Page 80 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Ceana did not stir when the horses changed pace.

“Ceana.” He touched his thumb to her jaw. “Open yer eyes.”

Her lashes lifted. “I am awake.”

“What tower lies beyond the next rise?”

“MacKane’s.” Her mouth moved faintly against his shirt. “Unless ye moved it while I slept.”

His breath left through his nose. “I didnae.”

“I am only tired, Oscar. I am nae lost.”

Oscar laughed. “All right, then.”

She nodded, and her eyes closed again just as Lennan brought his horse beside them.

“There are six wounded men ridin’ with the rear party. Two remain at Morrag because none of them could travel safely. We have seen nay second force.”

“Send a rider ahead,” Oscar instructed. “Clear the surgery and have water heated. The worst wounds are seen first when the rear party arrives.”

Lennan lowered his head and fell back.

The watch called from the curtain wall as Oscar reached the rise. The gates were opening before his horse descended the final slope. Mairi stepped out into the courtyard with several servants behind her. However, what had stopped him in his tracks was something else entirely.

Ahead of Mairi was a woman in a plain woolen gown, moving to catch up to them.

Nay. This cannae be.

“What?”

Oscar knew those steady eyes and that firm set of her mouth. Her hair was pinned away from her face, as it had been whenever she worked beside their mother.

“Am I hallucinatin’?”

He blinked and watched as she approached. A clean linen apron covered her gown, and a leather satchel hung from one shoulder. Then he saw the pale scar across her cheek and the edge of another beneath her collar.

“Muriel?” His voice was low. He almost didn’t want to speak her name, in case she was truly a hallucination.

Muriel stopped beside his horse. Her gaze flicked to the cut at his hairline before falling to Ceana.

“I heard ye had actually married,” she said. “I didnae want to lose more time.”

Oscar could not form an answer. He kept Ceana against him with one arm and reached down with the other. His palm cupped Muriel’s cheek, feeling her warmth. She closed her fingers around his wrist.

“Good day, Sister.”

Ceana shifted against him and winced.

Muriel released him at once. “How long has she slept? Did she hit her head? Whose blood is that?”

“She has slept since⁠—”

“Bring her inside.”

“Did ye truly become a healer?”

“Aye. Ye may ask the rest after I have seen yer wife.”