Page 11 of Highlander's Captive Bride
Daisy frowned, seeing how the effort seemed to exhaust her, for the little girl fell back on the pillow, out of breath. It was clear she idolized her father.
If only she kenned!
“Aye, lassie, I told ye I’d be home in nae time,” the Laird told the little girl, his harsh expression softening into one Daisy recognized with amazement as love. He knelt beside the child, who slipped a tiny hand into his large one. He covered it and gently squeezed. “How are ye feeling?”
“Och, I’m feeling much better, now ye’ve come to see me, Da!” the girl said, her bloodless lips smiling sweetly in a way that tore at Daisy’s heart.
Letting go of the girl’s hand, the Laird stood up and stepped back, beckoning to Daisy, who had been silently observing them.
The tenderness he showed to the little girl made it clear to Daisy why he had gone to such lengths to bring her here. The child was precious to him, and her life meant more to him than anything else. Daisy could not help but admire that quality, even in her brutal kidnapper.
Just as she moved towards the bed, a pretty young woman in her mid-twenties, with light-brown hair and navy-colored eyes, wearing a dark-colored dress, appeared from an anteroom with a small vase of buttercups in her hands. She stopped at once, glancing curiously at Daisy. Then, seeing the Laird, she bobbed a curtsey.
“Good evening to ye, M’laird,” she greeted, smiling. “Elodie will be so glad to see ye.” She placed the vase on the nightstand and said to the girl, “There ye go, me pet. I picked these to bring a little sunshine indoors for ye. Are ye nae happy to see yer Da?”
“Always,” Elodie said with a little giggle. “Thank ye for the flowers, Poppy,” she added. “Are they nae pretty, Da?” she asked, smiling up at her father.
“They are, me lass, but listen, I have someone important to introduce ye to,” the Laird told her. “The healer I promised ye, she’s come.”
4
“Good evening, Elodie. Me name is Daisy. I’m very pleased to meet ye,” Daisy greeted kindly, her heart going out to the delicate child. She held out her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, a tiny white hand emerged from beneath the covers like a shy mouse and took it.
Feeling its delicate frailty, Daisy gently shook the girl’s hand and smiled before letting go. Elodie’s face lit up, showing for a split second the lively child within.
“How d’ye do, Daisy? Thank ye for coming to see me,” Elodie said.
“Och, we’re both so glad ye’ve come, Daisy. We’ve heard marvelous things about yer skills. Pray to God ye can help this precious wee one,” Poppy burst out earnestly, yet her apparent guilelessness bothered Daisy.
Despite Poppy’s friendly demeanor, Daisy figured that she was likely a spy for the Laird, there to keep tabs on everything Daisy said and did. The servant had not yet proved herself trustworthy, however kindly she cared for the child.
“Hmm,” Daisy murmured, “we’ll have to see.” She looked back at Elodie, who was still smiling at her. “Yer faither wants me to examine ye, to see if I can find out what’s making ye so sick. Will that be all right with ye?”
“Yes, I want ye to, thank ye,” Elodie replied in her tiny voice.
Daisy turned and looked at the Laird, who was standing behind her, leaning against the wall, his arms and legs crossed. His handsome features wore a worried, brooding look.
“Will ye wait outside?” Daisy asked him, jerking her head to the door.
“Eh? Och, aye,” he said as if snapping out from a trance. He pushed away from the wall. “I have some business to attend to, anyway.”
The next thing she knew, he was close behind her, whispering in her ear.
“Do what I brought ye here to do. I’ll return for ye later,” he said.
Daisy shivered as he came around her and leaned over the bed, planting a kiss on Elodie’s head.
“I’ll be back in a while,” he told her in a reassuring tone before stroking her head.
Elodie grasped his hand and kissed it, gazing up at him lovingly. He straightened up, his face tense as he made for the door, sending a meaningful glance to Daisy over his shoulder as he went out and shut it behind him. They all listened as his footsteps echoed down the hall.
“Now,” Daisy said, unbuttoning the cuffs of her dress and rolling up her sleeves. “Is there somewhere where I can wash?”
“Of course. There’s a pitcher of fresh water and a bowl over there,” Poppy told her, pointing across the room to a console table with a small looking glass hanging above it.
“Thank ye,” Daisy said, going to wash up.
It was a pleasure to scrub away the worst of the road’s filth from her face and hands. Once she had dried her hands on a clean rag, she went to examine her patient.
