The old man blinked owlishly before lifting his head to look up at Cailean. “Ach, dinna ye worry, lad,” he said. “It’ll take more than a bloody tree to get the best of me.”
How true those words were. Seamus was the oldest man on Barra, and even though he was approaching his eightieth year, he was still sprightly and determined, and flatly refused to go live with his daughter and her family so they could take care of him. Still, he would have little choice now until his cottage was repaired.
“How’s the ankle?” Cailean asked.
The old man waved away his concern. “It’s naught. Just twisted.”
“Even so, I’ll have Maggie or Beatrice take a look at it just as soon as they get a minute.”
He issued a few orders to his men, and they began tackling the fallen tree with axes. It was not large—a hoary old apple tree from the orchard at the back of Seamus’s house—but its trunk had snapped clean in two and it had crashed right through the roof and taken half of the house’s front wall with it. Aye, Seamus was a lucky man indeed.
Cailean stood back, surveying the village. It was a hive of activity, like a kicked ant’s nest. The worst of the storm had blown through as quickly as it came and he could see the storm clouds slowly moving out to sea, but the rain was still lashing down and the wind had become gusting, veering around unexpectedly and making everyone’s work that much harder.
Still, at least Catriona was safe up at the castle. He’d given her stern instructions to stay put and tasked the cook with keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn’t try and sneak down to the village—which she would, given half the chance.
Rose was safely sheltered up there as well. His thoughts turned towards his dark-haired guest, and his stomach did an odd little flip as he did so. Had she gotten any sleep with the storm raging outside? Or had she sat in her room, frightened and alone?
He snorted, almost rolling his eyes at such a ridiculous thought. Rose MacFinnan frightened? He had yet to see her scared by anything. Even so, he should have checked on her. But cowardice had kept him from doing so, afraid of what he might do if he faced her again. Now his thoughts kept returning to her over and over, when what he should have been doing was concentrating on his duties.
He growled under his breath and ran a hand through his sodden hair, brushing it out of his eyes. He heard a commotion from uphill and turned just as he spotted a figure coming down the path. Cailean didn’t need the sudden cry of “the spellweaver is coming” to know who it was. His body seemed to recognize her before his brain did ashis heart seemed to stutter a little and a tingle went right through him.
“Rose,” he breathed.
She stopped to talk to a few people and then carried on towards him as those people pointed out his location. She seemed almost to glide over the muddy ground, as though she was immune to the mess and chaos around her, despite the way her hair was sticking to her face and her dress whipping around her ankles.
She came to a halt in front of him. A large basket was clasped in her hands, packed with bandages and other medical supplies. Her cheeks were pink from the cold.
Cailean scowled at her, even though he wanted to grin like an idiot at the sight of her. “Ye shouldnae be here,” he said. “The path is slick with mud, and half the hillside is ready to slide.”
“And yet I made it,” she replied with a light shrug. “You didn’t think I was just going to sit by the fire when there are people out here who need my help?”
“That’sexactlywhat ye should have done. Maggie and Beatrice can handle things. Ye shouldnae be putting yerself at risk.”
Her nostrils flared, and annoyance flashed across her face. “Excuse me, laird.” She slipped past him before he could say anything and knelt in front of Seamus.
Cailean turned and caught the grins of his men, who’d stopped working to watch their altercation. He rubbed his temple. “Back to work, all of ye.”
Rose was talking quietly to Seamus, her voice soft and soothing in a way his could never be and, for a wonder, the old man didn’t even grumble as she probed his ankle and then bound it tightly in a clean white bandage.
“Don’t put any weight on it for the next few days,” she told him before glancing at the ruined house behind. “Is there anywhere else you can stay?”
“I’m not going anywhere! I’ve lived here for sixty years and I’mnot about to—”
“Aye,” Cailean cut in. “He’s going to stay with his daughter, whether he likes it or nay.”
Seamus turned a glare on his laird. Left to his own devices, the stubborn old goat would no doubt continue as before, even though his cottage was little more than splintered bits of wood and tumbled stone. God save him from stubborn people who didn’t know what was good for them! He wasn’t sure whether he was thinking of Seamus or Rose.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll take ye to Brina’s house.”
“I’m not some bairn who needs his arse wiped!” Seamus snapped. “I can make my own way, thank ye very much!”
Irritation flared in Cailean’s stomach. He didn’t have time for this. He opened his mouth, but before he could bellow at the old man, Rose stepped neatly between them.
“We know that. But if you try to walk on that ankle, you will only delay your recovery, and then it will take even longer before you can come home.” She held out a hand. “How about the laird and Ibothescort you to Brina’s?”
Seamus screwed his face into a sour expression but nodded tightly. He pointed a spindly finger at Cailean. “But nobody is carrying me!”
Cailean rolled his eyes. “Wouldnae dream of it. Ye are too spindly and full of thorns to attempt it, old man.” He shouted to some of his men, who brought over a small handcart.
