Ferra stooped down by the tree and picked the herbs there, a smile on her face. The sun was shining, the birds singing, and her heart...oh, her heart was full.
Gathering the herbs into her basket, she moved on to the next tree, enjoying the rather warm day. She had woken this morning with a single goal in mind, one that would bring this unexpected happiness to completion.
It involved her husband.
A little sigh escaped Ferra as she thought about Kaiden and their brief time together two days prior. She had never experienced anything like that before, but now that it had happened, she wanted more.
Oh, so much more. Kaiden had made her feel like she was treasured, that he enjoyed his time with her. Was that how it was between husband and wife? No wonder her sisters were always laughing together about things they said she wouldn’t understand.
Now she could belong in those conversations, though Ferra knew that they had yet to consummate their marriage.
But his fingers! And his kisses! What else would she feel with the actual act of the marriage bed?
Ferra leaned against the tree, the flutters in her stomach making her smile. She couldn’t believe how far Kaiden had come, from the invalid that she had first laid eyes on upon her arrival to a glimpse of the warrior underneath. Now he barely had to hold onto anyone, and Ferra feared that they were going to have a hard time keeping him in one place.
Even the laird was celebrating his son’s miraculous recovery, boasting Ferra’s healing skills to anyone that would listen. While Ferra was glad that she had been able to help Kaiden, she knew that her healing powers were not the main cause of him walking again. It was pushing him to the instance that made him want to get well.
Pushing away from the tree, Ferra made her way back out of the copse of trees that she had gone to earlier, hoping to replenish her stock of herbs for her potions. Iona was proving to be a natural healer, and had progressed from helping Ferra to fashioning her own poultices with very little instruction. She was pleased that the young woman truly wished to learn, and now Ferra understood Sorcha’s joy when Ferra would master her own instruction.
As Ferra drew close to her new home, she noted the commotion in the courtyard. Kaiden was standing in the midst of the commotion, shouting orders, and Ferra could hear the concern in his voice from where she was standing. Picking up her skirts, she hurried to him.
“Wot is it?” she asked as she reached his side. “Wot happened?”
He looked down at her, and she could see the misery written on his face, laced with a grimace of pain from his stance. “A skirmish,” he told her, his words biting. “Near the outlying farms. They are bringing the injured here.”
Injured. Ferra’s heart leaped into her throat, her mind racing. “We need tae prepare.”
“Aye,” Kaiden replied grimly. “Get yer supplies, lass. Ye’re going tae need them.”
An hour later, Ferra stood at the keep’s entryway, directing those that were bringing in the injured. It wasn’t just the warriors that had been injured.
Their clansmen had been injured as well.
She had not seen her husband since the injured started making their way to the keep, but Ferra knew that both Kaiden and Erik both were overseeing those that were arriving at the gate, ensuring that no enemy disguised themselves and got past them.
“Lass!”
Ferra hurried out into the courtyard as Erik approached her, helping carry a man covered in blood. “Help him,” he begged as she placed her hand on his neck, hoping to feel the strong beat of his heart under her fingers.
It was faint, far too faint. “Take him inside,” she urged, nearly running behind them as they hurried into the keep. They found the first pallet that wasn’t already taken and laid the patient on it, stepping aside immediately as she started to probe for wounds. “Where is he hurt?”
“Sword tae the belly,” Erik said faintly, his voice laced with concern. “I dinnae know if...” His words trailed off, but Ferra could understand what he was attempting to say. Even Erik would know that stomach wounds were fatal.
Instead, she gave him a faint nod and grabbed a handful of bandages that were laying next to the pallet, pressing them to the wound to staunch the flow of blood. Beneath the blood on his face, Ferra realized that it was a young clansman, his clothing marking him as a warrior.
No wonder Erik was concerned.
“Water,” she ordered. “Get water.”
One of the others nearby hurried to do her bidding, and Ferra bit her lower lip, keeping her emotions at bay. When the warrior groaned, she leaned down, smoothing her hand over his sweaty brow. He opened his eyes, and for a moment, she was staring into a pair of startling blue ones laced with pain.
“I dinnae want tae die!” he cried out, his voice faint. “Please!”
Ferra wanted to tell him that he was going to be alright, that she could help him, but there was no use in telling him a lie. She couldn’t save him.
No one could. “I’m sorry,” she said instead, her voice laced with emotion. “I wish...”
A tear leaked out of his eye, and a whimper tore through his throat, causing Erik to move to his side. “Ye did good, warrior,” the Scot told him softly, placing his hand over the young Scot’s heart. “Ye defended yer clan well, and the gods will be welcoming ye with open arms.”
