“Should we do something?” Laila asked, feeling her face growing a little hot.
“Ha!” Lady McGowan laughed. “Like what, lass? All we can do is clean them up. They’ll be done soon enough. Come, he’ll need seeing to.”
They went slowly down the stairs of the keep as Lady McGowan rested every few steps. The baby had to be near now, and each day it seemed to take a larger toll on the Lady’s physicality. When they reached the ground floor, they went to the yard entrance and watched as the fight reached its conclusion.
“That’s enough!” Gavin shouted, yanking the two apart, and both combatants flopped down into the muck on their backs, lightning illuminating all the blood that ran from their noses and lips.
“Ha!” MacNear called as he wriggled his back further into the mud. “Good show, laddie! Good show!”
“Come on, get them up!” Gavin boomed above the gale, and a few men nearby helped the two to their feet. Laila watched and felt her heart give a jolt as Kyle slowly got to his feet, blood running down his face, a bruise welling on his cheek. She felt herself pining for the pain he might be in and felt her face go flush once more.What was this attraction? Why could she not shove these thoughts aside?
“Good show,” Kyle muttered back to MacNear.
“Wooooo!” MacNear howled up at the rain, and thunder clapped once more. “Tomorrow, laddie! Tomorrow I’ll tag ye back!”
“Gavin!” Lady McGowan called into the yard, and the Laird’s face snapped to attention. “Get your brither tae bed!”
“But of course,” Gavin mumbled back and threw Kyle’s arm around his shoulder. “Come on then, ye brute.”
Lady McGowan then turned to Laila and said, “Clean him up, would you?”
“Of course, Milady,” Laila replied, bowing her head quickly to hide her blushing cheeks.
“Sodding drunks,” Lady McGowan said with a chuckle.
“I got him,” Kyle murmured as Gavin hauled him inside. His face was battered and swelling already, but Laila made eye contact with him as Gavin pulled him past, and in that brief exchange, she felt a charge run through her, and she turned to follow them.
They staggered up to Kyle’s chambers, and Gavin kicked open the door with a bang. “That’s me door,” Kyle murmured.
“Shove it,” Gavin replied, and the pair laughed. Laila couldn’t believe their banter. She had grown up with her two brothers, of course, but never had she seen them descend into such foolish and violent debauchery, and here they were laughing about kicking a door after all of it. Gavin threw his brother down onto the floor, and he came down with a crash.
“Ah!” Kyle gave a grunt. “That’s the floor!”
“Ye’re filthy!” Gavin laughed back. Then he crouched down beside his brother, touched his chin briefly and said, “ye gave him a good one.”
“Better than ye could,” Kyle shot back, smiled, and then let his head flop onto the sheepskin rug.
Gavin stood back up and looked at Laila. She hovered nervously by the door, unsure of what to do next. “D’yer best tae clean him up,” Gavin said, reeking of ale and whiskey. “Thank ye,” and he moved back to the corridor, stumbling a bit as he walked.
“Yes, Milaird,” Laila said curtly, bowing her head as he passed. She watched him stumble down the hall a ways until he was out of sight, mumbling to himself, and then she turned her attention back to the drunken beaten man lying about on the rug. “What are we to do with you?” she asked a bit playfully, looking at the fine clothes she had picked out for him that morning. They were thoroughly ruined.
“I got the bastard,” Kyle said, trying to lift his head up.
“You certainly did,” Laila replied, blushing once more as she knelt beside him. “Now, let’s get these off you.”
“I’m sorry aboot the clothes,” Kyle said, looking up at her. “Ruined, I expect.”
“It’s likely,” she said. “But they were your clothes to start.”
“Hm,” Kyle bumbled, trying to prop himself up on his elbows.
She reached out tentatively and moved her fingers over his chest, reaching the ties of his tunic, and began undoing them. She felt excitement as she undid the simple knots but tried to tamp it down. He was a drunken, beaten mess.
“Oh, why thank ye,” Kyle gurgled with a grin as she undid the rest of the tunic and began pulling it away from his shoulders. Her hands ran across his chiseled shoulders, and her stomach gave a bit of a flip as the rest of the tunic came away. The shirt removed, he flopped back down onto the rug.
“You’ll have to do your own britches,” she shot back, draping the muddy tunic over the small table.
“Well, that’s nay any fun, is it,” Kyle said back with a drunken grin. One of his eyes was swelling, and his lip was busted open in the center. Laila took a cloth from her apron, dipped it in the water basin, and began dabbing the blood away from his face.
