Page 35 of Captured By the Highland Devil
The dried blood on the man’s temple worried Ruben but he had some of the best healers in the land. He knew he’d get the man all the help he needed.
Tucking both items into his saddle bags, Ruben swung into his saddle, and they galloped to the castle, forcing his vision to not slip into black.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Even from her chambers in the second floor of the castle, Paige heard the furor from below. The shouts had her dropping her sewing and rushing out of the room, down the corridors and to the staircase— only to lurch away.
Two footmen were carrying an unconscious man up to steps and for a moment, she felt her heart sink to her feet, thinking it was Ruben.
But she glimpsed the man; he was older and grey-haired with blood matted across his temple. Following him though, was Ruben, clutching his arm—his bloody arm.
“Ruben—” she called out.
He slid an eye to her. “Nae now, lass.”
Nevertheless, she followed the men and watched in worry while the men placed the older man on the bed. She pressed her hand to her heart as one healer rushed Ruben to a nearby bed.
She stood at the back while watching the healer cut the makeshift tourniquet from his arm. Her head snapped away as the wound began to bleed again.
Her throat worked thickly as they cleaned his arm and bandaged it. A gentle hand touched her arm, and she turned back to see Galan there, staring at Ruben with worried intensity.
“What happened?” Her words were strangled.
“We were ambushed by thieves,” the warrior said then nodded to the old man, “T’is a cryin’ shame they have to use innocent men to do it.”
“Is there nothin’ I can do?” Paige asked worriedly. “I am nae a healer, but can I help prepare what ye need.”
“Me lady—” from the healer’s tone, Paige knew she was going to reject her offer buts she insisted.
“Let me do somethin’.”
“If ye insist, hold his arm as we stitch,” the healer said. “It will be painful and we cannae risk him jerkin’ too hard and then do more harm than good.”
Taking a seat near him, Paige tentatively reached out to touch him. “Are ye in horrible pain?”
“Nay,” he said. “I have endured worse.”
While one healer gave Ruben a warm, pain-reducing herbal tea, Paige held his shoulder and forearm still as the healer slid the needle in and out of his skin. Not once did Ruben wince or give any indication of what was happening to him, but Paige could not take her eyes off him.
His eyelids were lowered and his jaw locked; even in pain he was handsome and his skin was tight and firm. Her fingertips coasted over thin scars here and there and the brush of his hair at the back of his head was thick but soft.
When they were finished, they gave him another infusion and then left to join the other healers tending to the older man.
Before the last healer left his side, she asked, “Is it—” she moistened her throat. “Is the wound life-threatenin’?”
“Nay, me lady,” the healer who then introduced herself as Ceana said. She was short and round with a motherly look to her. “His lairdship has suffered worse wounds that this.”
“T’is only a flesh wound, lass,” Ruben said gruffly. “It will heal.”
Heavy with worry, her eyes fell to meet his. “Will there be any festerin’?”
“Nae with the herbal poultice we have wrapped the laceration with, me lady,” Ceana said comfortingly. “He will be on the mend in nay time.”
Looking over her shoulder at Ruben, Paige wondered if that was true. He was rested on a pillow now, his chest moving with controlled breath, while his eyes were closed.
“Will he need to stay here for the night?” she asked.
“Nay, me lady.”
