Page 3 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

“Then come here, Tommy. Put one hand beneath her chest and keep the other away from her mouth. She may bite if she is frightened.”

“Ness doesnae bite,” he said as he obeyed. “She only tastes people.”

Ceana shrugged. “Well, that is a great comfort.”

Tommy settled beside the goat and spoke softly into its ear. Ceana ran her fingers along the trapped leg without pulling. The bone appeared straight, though the hoof had turned at an awkward angle beneath the root. She pushed loose soil aside and removed two small stones that blocked the narrow opening.

Ness kicked suddenly, one hoof striking Ceana’s shoulder, and the branch above her caught the ribbon securing her mask, causing the leather to shift across her face.

Ceana caught it with a muddy hand and tightened the ribbon before it could fall. Her pulse remained quick even after the mask was secure. No one stood close enough to see beneath it. The music from the festival still reached them, though the trees and carts hid this part of the grounds from the main crowd.

“She is makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be,” Ceana huffed.

Tommy held Ness more firmly. “She is scared.”

“So am I. I have never argued with a goat before.”

“She will win. Ness always wins.”

Ceana looked at his solemn face and nearly laughed. “Then we must convince her this was her idea.”

She pressed one hand against the upper root and cleared more soil with the other. A clump of mud spread across the sleeve and beneath her fingernails. The hem of the borrowed gown darkened where she kneeled, and a stitch near the cuff gave way when she forced the root aside.

“Now lift her body toward me,” she said. “Very gently.”

Tommy gathered Ness against his chest. Ceana guided the leg backward, turning the hoof until it aligned with the gap. The goat struggled once, then slid free with a startled bleat that sent Tommy falling onto his backside.

Ness scrambled upright and moved several paces away. She favored the leg at first, though she soon placed weight on it and lowered her head to investigate a patch of grass.

“She can stand,” Tommy said, relief breaking across his face as he rushed after her. “Ness, ye can stand!”

Ceana rose and brushed mud from her gown. The stain spread beneath her hand, and the torn cuff hung loosely around her wrist. She would have to invent an explanation before anyone from Clan Morrag saw her. For the moment, she watched Ness take several more steps and crouched again to examine the freed leg.

The goat resisted being touched, which Ceana accepted as a promising sign. She found no swelling beneath the hair and no obvious bend in the bone.

“She is frightened and sore,” she told Tommy. “Keep her from runnin’ tonight and have someone examine her leg again when ye return to yer tents.”

Tommy stared at her as if she had restored more than a troublesome animal. “Ye saved her.”

“Ye helped. Ness needed someone she trusted to hold her still.”

“I only stopped cryin’.”

Ceana nodded. “Aye. Ye were very brave once ye remembered how.”

Before she knew it, Tommy threw his arms around her. Her hand settled against his small back, and she held him while his breathing grew steadier. At that moment, the weight of his small body against hers stirred an old ache she had learned to push aside whenever children climbed into their mothers’ arms.

She released him before the thought reached the life she believed she would never have.

“Ye are a great lady,” Tommy said as he untied a ribbon from his sleeve and pressed it into her muddy palm. “This is for helpin’ Ness.”

Ceana tied the ribbon around her wrist beside Daphne’s silver ribbons. “Thank ye very much, lad.”

Tommy grinned and gathered Ness against his side. “Me faither commands more men than any laird here. If anyone tries to take it from ye, he will make them sorry.”

“That sounds reassurin’.” Ceana picked up her cloak and settled it over the damaged sleeve. “It also sounds as though ye should return before yer terrifying faither discovers ye are missing.”

“He can find anyone,” Tommy declared proudly. “He always does.”