Page 61 of Bound to a Scot
Without a word, he picked up her clothing then hung it up close to the fire on a line he’d stretched across the room. He rooted around in the boxes again and brought her back a couple of old furs that, while a bit stale and smelly, helped to ward off some of the chill seeping into her bones. Once she was situated, Maddox carried his saddle bag over and sat down beside her.
“I need tae see that arm,” he said.
“Me arm?”
He nodded. “I noticed ye took a cut.”
With everything going on and all the adrenaline pumping through her veins during the attack, Emmeline hadn’t noticed that she’d been injured. She still didn’t feel it. But when she slipped her arm out of the furs, she noticed there was indeed a thin gash across her flesh.
“I didnae notice it,” she said.
“’Tis nae surprisin’. It happens that way sometimes.”
Maddox opened his saddlebag and pulled out a small bottle, pulled the cork, and offered it to her.
“Ye’ll want tae have a swallow, lass,” he said. “This may sting a bit.”
She took his advice and took a long swallow, wincing as the strong liquid hit her tongue. Then Maddox poured a bit of the liquid—whisky, judging by the taste—onto a white cloth. She grimaced and hissed when he put the alcohol-soaked rag onto the cut on her arm.
Maddox continued to work on her wound, using a small kit he carried to stitch it closed. It had been excruciating but he had worked on her with a delicacy that surprised her. With a tenderness she didn’t know he was capable of. He had surprised her in a thousand different ways that day. But as she reflected on it, one thing surprised her more than anything.
She looked into his eyes. “Ye came fer me,” she said softly. “Ye saved me.”
He offered her a gentle smile. “Aye. And I always will.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Emmeline shifted and pulled the furs around herself a little tighter. Feeling awkward and uncomfortable sitting there naked beneath the cloak and furs, she looked longingly at her clothing. Maddox chuckled softly. He got to his feet and touched her clothing.
“Shouldnae be too much longer,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “How is yer arm?”
“Better,” she replied. “Thank ye.”
He sat down beside her again and picked up the bottle of whisky he’d used to clean her wound earlier and took a swallow.
“Would ye like another sip?” he asked, offering the bottle to her.
She hesitated for a moment then accepted the bottle and took a small sip, grimacing as the amber liquid burned its way down her throat. Maddox laughed softly. The air between them wascharged with a sense of expectation that set Emmeline’s heart racing. She took another swallow of the whisky then handed the bottle back, trying to push back the feelings raging inside of her every bit as fiercely as the storm outside.
“Dae ye think yer husband might have set this up?” Maddox asked, giving voice to a thought that had already been bouncing around inside her head.
“I dinnae ken,” she replied softly. “It would nae surprise me though.”
If the question itself had put a crack in her emotional wall, her answer brought the whole thing down. Though she hadn’t to speak, Emmeline found herself telling Maddox about her years of misery as Burchard’s wife. She told him about the neglect, about the abuse, about every indignity and cruelty he’d inflicted upon her over the years.
Emmeline didn’t know how long she’d spoken. It felt like hours. But through it all, Maddox had listened attentively. Never interrupting, just listening. When she was done with her tale of woe, she felt spent. Wrung out. Yet, she also felt lighter. Freer. And more unburdened than she’d felt in… she didn’t even know how long.
“I am sorry fer what ye’ve endured,” he said softly. “’Tis nae right. None of it.”
She shook her head. “We’ve all got our own scars tae bear. I’m sure ye’ve got some of yer own. Why dinnae ye tell me about them?”
“I’d rather nae.”
“I shared with ye,” she said. “Share with me.”
He was silent for a long moment and Emmeline didn’t think he was going to. But to her surprise, he began speaking.
“Me wife… she… she was pregnant with a child,” he began, his voice soft. “She died in givin’ birth tae the child, who died as well.”
