Page 44 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
She hastened out, mindful of Feather’s woebegone expression as she pulled the door shut behind her. She followed Ban along the slipway, scarcely giving any thought to the water lapping beside them. They took the path leading to the crew’s quarters and the sparring yard.
Ranald Dunbar turned to greet them as they came into the yard, Everard, his back to them, was supporting a large, ginger-haired lad she supposed was Ulric the Viking.
Everard greeted her with a worried smile.
“I dinnae ken if the lad has broken his leg. We were sparring wi’ our swords when his foot rolled on a stone and he went down, twisting his leg as he fell.” He helped the man across to a large rock where he could sit. “As ye can see, Ulric is nae a small lad. When he falls, there’s quite a weight hits the ground.”
Ulric was true to his heritage, fair, with pale blue eyes. A veritable giant of a man, he was even larger by a scrap than Everard. He was biting his lip against the pain, and looked at her with pitiful eyes, begging for help.
She turned to Ranald Dunbar. “Can ye go intae the crew’s house and boil the kettle?” She handed him a package of dried leaves. “If ye can make a tisane out of these, it will soften Ulric’s pain.”
He took the little packet and hurried off. Turning to Ulric she asked, “Can ye bend yer leg?”
He nodded and she took his swollen leg and bent it gently, checking to see that it was not broken and that his knee was in the place it should have been. His sharply indrawn breath told her that even under her gentle touch, he was suffering.
“Me laird, now that I ken Ulric’s leg is nae broken, can ye support it? Hold it straight fer me so that I can test tae see what the problem is.”
Everard obeyed her silently, supporting the big Viking’s leg on his own bent knee. The leg was swollen and, at first, it was difficult for Davina to tell where it was damaged.
“Ye’ve nae twisted yer knee, Master Ulric, but it seems ye’ve done some damage tae yer ankle.” She looked askance at the angle of his foot.
She gently felt along his foot and around his ankle, acutely aware of Everard’s penetrating gaze taking in her every move. “Can ye straighten yer foot, lad?”
Ulric moaned, but slowly moved his foot to the position if should be in.
“Methinks ye’ve a sprain. ‘Tis nae broken, I’m pleased tae tell ye. I’ll bind yer ankle and foot and ye mustnae stand upon the leg until this is better.”
“Can I be of assistance tae ye, Davina?” Everard spoke for the first time.
“Just continue as ye are, support his leg while I tend tae it.”
“Aye, lass.”
She felt her cheeks burning. There she was giving orders to the laird. And, what’s more, he was obeying. She looked up at him for the first time. He smiled as their eyes met. It was then she realized his shirt was only carelessly strung around his shoulders and that he was bare chested.
Confronted for the first time with a man’s bare chest, and one that was not only broad and imposing, but taut and well-muscled, with a sprinkling of dark hairs, she could hardly tear her eyes away. Her gaze fixed on the dark arrow of hair disappearing down the front of his britches.
Everard cleared his throat and she snapped her eyes away, hastily refocusing on Ulric, just as Ranald Dunbar emerged from the building bearing a steaming, scented, brew. He handed it to her, she breathed in the aroma, nodded, and handed the precious tisane to Ulric.
“Drink this lad, but take care, it is hot. It will dull the pain as I get on wi’ dealing wi’ this ankle.”
The man took it in his great hand and sipped. While she waited a few moments for the drugging tisane to do its work, she applieda tincture to the lower part of his leg, his ankle and his foot. “This will help wi’ the swelling and will ease yer pain too.”
Once Ulric was almost smiling and clearly feeling no pain, she set about binding his ankle. First, she made sure his foot had movement and was aligned correctly. Then she took the longest strip on the roll and, beginning with his foot, bound him, foot to knee. Once she’d tied off the bandage she got to her feet and turned to Dunbar.
“He’ll need a crutch of some sort. If ye’ve a stout piece of oak that can be whittled tae fit, he can use it tae get around.”
Dunbar headed off again in search of whatever he could find that would do the job.
“Me laird,” she said with some difficulty, averting her gaze from his bare chest. “If ye can assist the lad tae his bed, he can rest awhile, until the potion I’ve given him wears off.”
He gave her a knowing nod, causing another rush of heat to her cheeks.
Turning to Ulric she said firmly, “Ye are nae tae set foot tae the ground until I’ve told ye.”
Everard got to his feet and, slinging the still-smiling Ulric’s arm over his shoulder, hoisted the man to his feet. Then, supporting Ulric’s weight as he half-hopped, and half-dragged his leg theyprogressed slowly across the yard and around the corner of the house.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
