“His tolerance is normally much better than that,” Campbell said.
“The loss of blood decreases the tolerance. Bring the light this way.”
Immediately, Campbell raised the light, and Cait had hold of the ball after only two tries.
Campbell continued to hold the light while she smeared honey over the wound and stitched it closed.
“Why honey?” Campbell asked.
“It stops the wound from putrefying.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.” He didn’t sound like he disbelieved her, just was curious.
“I learned it from a woman in my village.” She sat back and ran the back of her hand across her brow. “Finished.”
“You did well,” Campbell said.
She stood and stretched her aching back. “He’ll rest comfortably for a few hours. I’ll sit with him through the night. Ye can go home now and get some rest.”
“I can’t have you nursing my commander all alone.” He grinned, but she shook her head.
“Ye need to leave, Iain. I do no’ want ye here.”
Chapter 2
Cait Campbell stared at Iain Campbell with snapping green eyes and a mutinous jaw thrust forward. She didn’t like him.
In fact, she despised him.
It wasn’t a surprise. He’d known for years. From the moment he had to tell her that John was dead, she’d despised him.
When he was around her, he despised himself, and although it made him a coward, it was one of the reasons he stayed away from her. He’d never admit out loud that the guilt of John Campbell’s death still hung heavily on his heart. He kept his guilt to himself.
But when Adair was wounded in a short skirmish with the damn raiders who had been stealing Campbell cattle, Iain hadn’t thought twice about where to bring him. Cait was known throughout the area for her healing ways. For certain she hadn’t been pleased to see him, but she’d reluctantly helped, as he’d known she would. But even he was a bit surprised that she was so unceremoniously tossing him out of her home.
“Nevertheless,” he said, “I’ll stay.” He was her chief, after all. He had the right.
“Nay.” She lifted her chin, those icy green eyes piercing him. “This is my home, and ye are no’ welcome.”
There were few places in Scotland where he was welcome, and normally, he didn’t mind. But tonight he minded.
“I’m not leaving my commander alone.”
Her back went rigid. “Ye don’t trust me with him?”
He waved his hand in the air. “Of course I do. You’re the best healer in these parts. Trust has nothing to do with it.”
“Ye can come back in the morning. Naught will happen tonight but that he’ll sleep and I’ll check his wound in a few hours.”
Iain looked around the small but tidy room for a chair to sit in and wasn’t surprised to find none. The room consisted of a bed big enough for one person—one short person—a bureau, and a washstand. A few small carpets were scattered about the dust-free plank floor.
“I’ll just bring a chair up from the kitchen—”
“No.”
He sighed and looked at her. “Cait—”
“Ye’re no’ staying.” Her eyes glistened, and he wasn’t a fool to think the unshed tears were of sadness. She was angry. Maybe he should have confronted this anger long ago, but he was a coward in a lot of ways when it came to Cait Campbell.
