Page 37 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
“Call for Kyla.”
The maid gasped and twisted a rag between her hands, lifting it to her chin. “Oh, Me Laird, all the healers are down at the village. They are checkin’ on the children during the evenin’ feast. Ye arranged it, do ye nae recall?”
Grant cursed, and her eyes went wide. He felt a gentle touch on his arm and saw that Emma had sat up.
“Stop it, you are frightening her,” she protested. “It’s alright. I’m fine.”
“Ye arenaefine,” Grant hissed.
“Let me take care of your hand,” Emma demanded, and then she smiled at the maid. “You may go.”
“What?” Grant sputtered as she stood up and shook her head. She moved toward his vanity, and he followed. “What are ye doin’?”
“I always meant to face my fear at some point,” she replied. “Please sit, you are far too tall.”
Any other time, Grant might have leaped on that, but instead, he scowled and threw himself into a chair. “Ye are the most foolish and stubborn person I have ever met.”
“I might say the same about you,” Emma murmured, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “I jest, Sir.”
She found a cloth and held it up, as though seeking his permission, and he nodded. Then, she found a bowl of fresh water and brought it over.
“Do you have any medicine?”
“Aye, in that cabinet over there,” Grant said, curious to see if she was bold enough to go open it.
Emma did so without pause, only glancing back when she took in all the bottles. “Which one?”
“The deep brown bottle—nae the one on yer left. Aye, that one.”
She came back, turning the bottle over in her hands. “What is it?”
“One of Kyla’s concoctions,” Granted replied. He then blinked, realizing that Kyla’s absence was the reason why she didn’t sendthe drink he’d asked for. Ah, just as well. “Wet the cloth, then add a bit of that to it.”
Emma did so, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell of herbs, and then motioned for him to undo the bandage. He slowly did so, watching her all the while, and reached for her when he finally let it drop to the floor.
She’d gone pale and swayed, but then squared her shoulders and nodded at him. “I can do this.”
Indeed, she took his fingers and began to dab the cloth at the wound. Soon, she became a bit more confident and cleaned it with precision. It wasn’t until she drew back and reached for the fresh bandage that she paled again.
“I can do this,” Grant offered.
“Please,” Emma insisted in a soft voice. “Let me do this.”
“If ye insist,” Grant sighed.
Emma’s hands, though trembling slightly, did good work. He grimaced a bit when she tied the fresh bandage, though he made sure to hide it from her. Satisfied with her handiwork, she smiled and stepped back, and swayed again.
“Hey now.” Leaping up, Grant spun them around and sat her down. “D’ye need a drink?”
“No, no, it will pass.” Emma cradled her head and pulled in deep breaths. “It’s so foolish.”
“It isnae,” Grant countered. “Havin’ a strong stomach takes practice, even for a hardened warrior. Ask McWirthe.” He paused. “Actually, dinnae. He willnae tell ye anythin’ a lady should hear.”
“Oh, no?” Emma asked with amusement.
Grant nodded, then crouched down and looked up at her as she wobbled into a steadier position. “Why are ye so afraid of blood?”
“Once, when I was a child,” she mumbled, “I took a foolish risk while riding my horse. I’d been a decent rider up till then, but I was still learning.” She sighed. “But I wanted to try and jump over a low stone wall. The horse made it. I did not.” Grant winced. “Since then, I have never been able to ride a horse again. I only travel by carriage.”
