“I think not, Fergus. Remember I killed the last man who hit me.”
“Feisty, wee lass,” Fergus chuckled. He poured more whisky over her cut, and Roderick felt her back tense, but she didn’t jerk away or cry out in pain. She held her head high and bravely submitted to Fergus’s ministrations. Roderick was proud of her courage. There was more to the lass than he’d thought. He sensed in her a real fighter.
He held her arm still as Fergus took the first stitch. She drew in a breath and looked away, squeezing Roderick’s free hand for support. He was surprised that she turned to him for comfort as if there were already trust between them.
“Oh, my lord,” Agatha gasped before she fainted and toppled over sideways on the blankets.
“S--she has a faint-heart, I’m afraid,” Siena managed to say through clenched teeth.
Roderick smiled. “You, lass, are the brave one.” He didn’t mention she had a tight grip on his arm, so he knew she experienced a great deal of pain. He decided to take her mind off the mending of her arm. “Is Agatha related to ye?”
“Nay. My father is alive, but I’ve not seen him for the last two years.” She shrugged. “I guess you can say that I don’t really have a family who cares for me. Agatha was my nurse,” Siena paused, winced, then continued, “Agatha raised me. Even if she isn’t related to me by blood, I think of her as my family. She is a good woman.”
“I’ve finished, lass,” Fergus said with a broad grin. “Ye held up like a true warrior. Ye can open yer eyes now.”
Slowly, Siena turned her head and Roderick smelled the fragrance of flowers wafting from her black hair. She felt right in his arms. He hated to admit it, because it had been a long time since he’d held a woman like this, and something stirred within him. He was momentarily speechless in his surprise.
Then Roderick thought of his dead wife, and the anger he tried so hard to control surged through him like a coiled snake that had been provoked. Fighting his rage, he thought back to that fateful day when he had returned to his holding to find his wife had been raped and murdered and his son missing. Something within him had broken. Gone was any happiness he’d once felt. It was replaced with bitterness and guilt that he’d not been there to protect them.
Roderick shook his head to rid it of the dark images. He’d been bitter for so long that he didn’t know how to change. Now he held a woman in his arms, a woman who had killed his mortal enemy. For that, he was grateful, but he felt so strange—something he would sort out later. For now, Siena looked clearly exhausted and pitiful with one swollen eye and a dark circle under the other eye. He shoved to his feet and gently lifted Siena and carried her back to her blanket.
“I will sleep on this side, so we can share my plaid, and my warmth,” he said, pointing. “Duncan will sleep next to Agatha. You needna worry about anyone harming ye tonight.”
Siena tugged the red plaid over her and tucked it under her chin. Her strength was fading. “It is a great comfort not to worry about our safety. I’m not sure that this is proper, but truth be told, I don’t really care tonight,” she murmured, her words slurred. “You have been most kind to us, my lord.”
Roderick nodded. He probably should have said something more, but he feared what he might say. Though she showed the scars of her beating and misuse by his enemy, he still remembered she was related to the bastard who had killed his wife and compassion was not what he felt at the moment. Instead, he tossed a couple of sturdy logs on the fire so that it would burn all night. Glancing around the campfire he saw his men positioned for sleep, their swords beside them. Fergus would stand watch while they slept.
It was cold tonight. They would be lucky to return home before the first snowfall, Roderick thought as he took his place beside Siena. At least the women were both asleep. Lady Siena needed rest in order to heal. He believed she was too pale, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it tonight.
He folded a blanket and placed it under his head. His body was weary, and he thought sleep would be easy, but it didn’t come. Instead, his thoughts transported him back to that terrible day more than a year ago.
* * *
He could still tastethe stench of burning wood and see the women’s bodies in his mind’s eye. He had to step over them, searching . . . searching until he found Gillian, her face so swollen he’d barely knew her.
He had blamed himself for not leaving enough men to properly protect his holding that day. Frantically, he had searched for his son. When he couldn’t find him, he had found a banner from Fidach, and knew who was responsible. Roderick’s men had lost loved ones, as well, and the mood was grim as they began to bury their dead. As dusk fell, Roderick had vowed they would rebuild the holding as it was before. This time they would paint the walls black so all who saw would remember this terrible day.
His boy, four-year-old Michael had never been found. Roderick had hoped to question Fidach as to what happened to his son before killing the man, but now that opportunity was lost. Somehow, he couldn’t bury the past completely. He couldn’t see a small child surviving alone, but he still held hope that one day he would find his son alive.
* * *
Roderick shuthis eyes and pushed the past where it belonged. Then he said a small prayer that his son might be somewhere safe. He glanced at the small woman lying beside him. He had yet to touch her, wondering if there wasn’t any part of her that didn’t hurt. Her cheek and neck were turning blue, making her a pitiful sight indeed from her beating. She was a Sassenach and his people wouldn’t like that fact. What was he to do with her? He didn’t know the answer, but he was certain she could make herself useful, and have a better life than she had before.
He gathered that Siena was a healer. Elen, the healer at home, was growing old and in need of help so it could be the perfect place for Lady Siena.
Roderick realized he’d lived for revenge for so long, too long. He sighed. Now it was done, and the man responsible for the attack was dead, he should feel relieved. The relief he expected wasn’t forthcoming. He still felt empty inside, and he wondered how it would be to feel something other than anger again.
He rolled over and welcomed the warmth of the small body beside him. For the first time, in what seemed like forever, he was comfortable enough to sleep. Siena rolled toward him and he wondered if she sought the comfort that another warm body could give her tonight. He draped his arm across her and pulled her next to his side.
Somehow in the midst of all the confusion this felt right, and he felt protective. No one would ever hurt the lass again.
Chapter 4
The next morning Roderick woke up to find his arm draped across a warm body snuggled next to him. During the night, Siena had whimpered several times and he had to comfort and assure her that she was safe.
Something changed within him during the night, an overwhelming need to protect Siena seemed natural to him.
It had been too long since he’d known anything but hatred, and he didn’t want to disturb this newfound peace, but he knew they couldn’t remain here. With his free hand he stroked the side of Siena’s face to wake her. She felt much too warm. On second thought, she was downright hot.
