Page 20 of A Laird and a Healer

Ryan pursed his lips and nodded. “I expect ye tae remain honorable when we are married.”

Caroline’s demeanor changed at this. She tensed, and her hands returned to her abdomen, as though she was trying to protect herself from an ill fate.

“I am always honorable, and whatever vows I take, I take seriously.” She paused for a moment to consider her words. “But there is something ye should understand. I am nae a fool, and I shall nae be treated as one. I will be honorable as long as ye are honorable in return. In other words, ye should stay on my good side.”

Ryan laughed openly, the sound breaking free like a shot. Caroline glared at him, for she had not intended her words to be humorous. However, before she could speak, her expression turned to one of concern.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to his sleeve.

Ryan looked down and extended his arm. A crimson shadow bloomed over his crisp shirt. He rolled his sleeve up and noticed that blood had trickled out. He cursed under his breath and ripped the cloth away, revealing the gash in his skin.

“It seems as though it’s ye who should hae seen the healer,” Caroline taunted.

Ryan glared at her, although he appreciated that it was a timely remark.

“I dinnae need tae gae tae that bother. It’s just a wee scratch.”

“It’s more than that,” Caroline huffed.

She tore off a piece of her dress and then searched a cabinet for some clear alcohol. She held the cloth to the bottle and soaked it, before approaching Ryan. Without asking, she pressed the cloth to his wound. It stung, and Ryan gasped.

“Dae ye like causing me pain?” he said through gritted teeth.

“This will help. I told ye that I could hae taken care of my sisters. I know a wee something about the art of healing,” Caroline replied.

She pressed the cloth to his arm with a surprising amount of force. Her fingers brushed the hard flesh of his bicep, while strands of hair touched his shoulder. The scent of her enveloped him. It was sweet and cloying. He never imagined anything could have been more intoxicating than wine. Her touch was tender and as he stared at her face he was tempted to reach out and touch it. She was soft, beautiful, and all the things that he had been missing from his life.

Without thinking, his hand rose and he cupped her cheek. Caroline stiffened at the sensation, but she did not back away. She did not attempt to flee. Her hand did fall away from the cloth, though, and now her entire hand was pressed against his shoulder. Their eyes met, and it was as though a bolt of lightning struck clean through him.

“Why are ye being kind tae me? Ye should hate me. Ye should hae let me die. Ye could hae been free of all this.”

He searched her gaze for answers. Her ruby lips were slightly parted, but they offered nothing. In that suspended moment, it was just he and Caroline and the silence. A thought struck him; he could have gazed into her eyes for hours, perhaps even days, without tiring. He liked the feeling of touching her skin, and the more he inhaled her scent, the more he seemed to lose his mind.

Chapter 9

Caroline stared into Ryan’s eyes. The unflinching, implacable look had softened. Somehow, touching him directly and being touched by him made him more real. No longer was he simply an obstacle. No longer was he only a barrier to her freedom, but he was a genuine person with his own agenda, his own desires and ambitions.

If she was going to get anything she wanted out of this marriage, then she was going to have to understand these things. It was going to be difficult, though, especially when she wasn’t sure she understood herself any longer. Her driving force had always been to keep her sisters safe, but then she had been faced with the opportunity to see their captor killed. She and Nessa could have found Tara and fled. Their ordeal would have been over and they would have known freedom. Instead, she condemned them to returning to this place.

Nessa had been furious with her, and rightly so. Caroline wondered if she would ever regain the trust of her sisters again.

But Nessa and Tara were far from her mind. Ryan was cupping her cheek, and his warm flesh was taut beneath her fingers. She could feel the strength and the power running through his body, his vigor being carried by the blood that seeped out of his wound. To see him like this stirred a nurturing sensation within. He was bleeding, vulnerable, showing her that he wasn’t some indomitable force, but that he was just a man.

He could die like any other.

The candlelight framed the hard angles of his face. His lips were full, and they were angled in a kind of smirk. His neck was thick, and he radiated strength. However, now that she was so close, it wasn’t as intimidating as before. There was something in his eyes, something that seemed yearning and haunted. He was a man alone in this castle, and she was intrigued by what had caused this. What secrets lay buried in his past, and how had he come to be the man he was today?

He was her enemy, but he was also going to be her husband, and if she were to stand any chance of prospering in this new life, she was going to have to learn about all of these things. Her natural curiosity guided her as well. All the rumors described him as a cruel, merciless man who led a clan that valued their solitude and treated outsides violently. They were isolated, and it was said that the Laird showed no patience with anyone. After their first meeting, she could well have believed this, but now she wasn’t so sure.

The man before her was the one who had chased after her, who had killed bandits to protect her. Granted, this was only after she had deigned to be his wife, and she had yet to learn why it was so important to him that she in particular was to fill this role, but it still showed that he was capable of nuanced thought.

He could have left them to their fate, but instead he had come after them. It hadn’t escaped her notice how he had reacted when the bandit grabbed her, either. Fury had filled his eyes, and she got the sense that he wanted to protect her more than anything. Could she dare hope that he might develop a genuine kinship towards her, or was she merely deluding herself to soften the impact of her impending marriage?

She finished dressing the wound and Ryan stood up, stretching his arm. He rearranged his shirt and as he did so, revealed scars from previous battles. Caroline was unable to look away. She traced them all with her eyes, even though she only had a brief glimpse. The touch of warmth lingered on her cheek as well, even after he took his hand away, and the sensation of his taut skin remained on her fingertips.

Ryan poured her some wine, placing the goblet in front of her. Caroline picked it up with trembling hands and sipped the dark liquid, hoping that it would quell the undulating thoughts in her mind. The door to the study was ajar, but for the time being she did not wish to escape. Ryan was a dangerous man, but at the moment she did not think she was in immediate danger, and so she wanted to take the opportunity to learn about this brute of a man who struck fear in the hearts of any man who found themselves trespassing in his territory.

“Are the rumors about ye true?” she asked, her voice hitching with uncertainty.