Page 38 of Captured By the Highland Devil
In five swift, long strides until he reached his room and rested her on his bed. Her nightshift, stark white and thin, rucked up her thigh as he rested her on the pillows.
Pulling up the blanket from the foot of the bed, he shook out the thick wool sheet and draped it around her shoulders. She stared at him, “T-thank ye.”
“Nae fond of storms, I take it?”
“Nay,” Paige said hoarsely. “Rain I can understand and stomach, aye, but these storms make me feel like I am about to jump out of me skin.”
He shrugged on a loose, armless léine then stroked the smoldering fire into life by dropping more wood into the bed and rummaging the coals. After that, he upended the vial of painkilling draft.
“Did ye never grow out of it?”
“Nay,” she said. “The ones at home, they were one thing, but out here near the sea they’re so loud…”
Paige eyed his bandaged arm as she slid under the sheets, only to tuck his hands under his head and stare at the ceiling. She asked. “Did ye strain yerself liftin’ me? I ken t’is very easy to rupture those stitches.”
He snorted. “Hardly.”
A grating thunderclap had her wincing, and Ruben tilted his head to her, “Shhh, lass,” he tried to comfort her. “Ye’ll be fine."
Pressing her head into the pillow, Paige did her best to block out the constant boom. “Me cousin Elijah would tell me to close me eyes and to think of thunder as God draggin’ his chair across heaven to get a better look through the clouds.”
A laugh puffed past his lips, “In all me years, I never heard of such a thing.”
“Elijah was a unique soul,” she said.
He craned his head, brows lowered, “Was? Hewasa unique soul?”
Her eyelids fluttered down, “He is the cousin who died in the war,” she said calmly. “The one I keep badgerin’ ye about.”
“I see,” he said, his eyes fixed on the timbered ceiling. His throat worked as he finally twisted his head to her, “I’ll be honest, lass, I have nay memory of any Elijah who died in the war.”
Her words came out more spiteful than she wanted them to. “And ye ken all the names of the men and woman who died, I suppose?”
To his credit, Ruben did not react to her bitter words, calmly said, “There were fifty-seven of yer clansmen who died and thirty of mine,” he said. “All of them were identified and nay Elijah comes to memory.”
“I ken he died,” she said tightly. “If ye dinnae kill him, one of yer men did.”
Once again, he turned to her, “And who told ye that? Ye father, perhaps?”
Her eyes narrowed, “Aye, he did.”
For a second time, he craned his head to her, “Lass, one of these days ye are going to have to realize that yer father is nae the man ye think he is.”
“Me father has his flaws,” she said. “He is nay saint?—”
“Ye’re right about that,” Ruben snorted. “The man is as weak and foolish as a hungry, blind fox in a henhouse. Even with his nose, he cannae decide which bird to eat and is goin’ to die from hunger tryin’ to decide. Do ye want to take a moment to think why?”
Her eyes were closed, “He wants them all, I suppose.”
“Without any give and take,” Ruben said. “Yer father wants everythin’ to be his without tryin’ to gain it fairly.”
She opened her eyes this time. “What do ye mean?”
He pulled a hand from under the pillow and rubbed over his face, pressing the heel of his hand into his eyes. “I shouldnae have started this tonight when t’would be better to do it in the day.”
“Why?” Paige asked.
“So I can get the witnesses here to show ye why yer father had told ye five lies and one truth,” Ruben said tiredly. “I suppose what I just said to ye will have yer head going in circles. But try to get some sleep, lass. Ye’ll need it for the morrow.”
