Page 69 of The Guardian's Bride
As she heard the door to his hidden stair shut, she remembered confessing that she had begun to love him, and he had said the same. It was true, she did love him. It filled her like a fountain. But between them and a hope of happiness—if that could indeed come about—lay a score of troubles that might prove impossible to solve.
Chapter Nineteen
The great hallwas bathed in morning sunlight and chaos as Aedan entered the room. An array of boxes and piled garments and sundry items were spread over a large table, where his sister and aunt stood with two maidservants folding garments and packing smaller items. The women barely glanced up as he came near.
At the other end of the room, Rowena stood beside Colban, who was enthroned in a high-backed wooden chair, his arm in a cloth sling, the two dogs lounging protectively at his feet. Colban smiled and waved at his father.
He waved too, then paused near Marjorie and Jennet. “Are you bringing all these things to the Rock?”
“There are five of us,” Lady Jennet said. “We will take Jane and Sheila to help us there. We do not want to burden Sir Brian’s household.”
“He will appreciate that. But all this?” He gestured toward books, bags holding skeins of colorful yarn, folded fabrics, and a box of carved animals and game pieces.
“Colban needs things to do, and so do we,” his sister explained.
“Brian has a small library in the castle that you can use. He also keeps some sheep on the Rock if you run out of wool,” he drawled.
“Shear them for me, and I will dye and spin the wool,” his sister replied.
He grinned. “I hope you can sail to Tyningham to see Lady Ellen if she does not come out to see you.”
“We could go to market on the mainland with her,” Lady Jennet said.
“Just be safe. It is all I ask. How is the lad now? He seemed in pain earlier this morning. Lady Rowena was just looking in on him when I went to meet with Michael and the garrison.” He had spent an hour or more with the men discussing the need for more watchmen on the battlement and more patrols around the region.
“Colban seems better,” Marjorie said. “Lady Rowena examined his arm and wrapped it securely. She insists he rest today since we travel tomorrow.”
“Good advice.” He crossed the long room and Rowena looked up, her eyes sparkling as she hid a smile. He suppressed a smile too, aware that his sister and aunt watched. No need to give them ideas; he knew they wanted him to marry again, for they had never been shy about bringing up the topic.
He huffed softly, imagining their delight if they only knew his thoughts.
“Da!” Colban said, as the dogs at his feet stood to greet Aedan while he bent to pet them. He murmured quietly to Rowena, who murmured in return, glancing at him and quickly away. What had occurred between them last evening had faded like a dream in the sunlight, but at that moment, he vividly recalled it. Her rosy cheeks said she felt the same.
“Da, look!” Colban proudly supported his arm, propped on pillows. “Lady Rowena wrapped my arm in wax! I am a candle!” He held his arm high, hand waving like a flame. Rowena gently lowered it to the pillow again.
“He is your son,” she said, laughing.
“We have enough candles, lad,” Aedan said. “But let me see. Is it truly wax?” He took Colban’s small hand.
“Lady Jennet melted down some beeswax candles this morning so we could wrap his arm,” Rowena said. “Tallow is less dear than beeswax, but does not smell as good.”
“Only the best for you, lad,” Aedan said. “Your arm has a good casing there.”
“It will help protect his arm while the bone heals,” Rowena said. “I dipped some linen strips in wine to keep his skin clean, then wrapped warm sheets of wax over that. Once the beeswax cooled, it became stiff enough to protect him for a while.”
“Thank you,” Aedan said, setting Colban’s forearm carefully on the pillow.
“I will write a note for Sir Walter Forbes at Bass Rock,” she went on. “He can remove the bandages in a fortnight or so, and apply a fresh wrapping of linen and wax for another two or three weeks, and again after that if he thinks it is needed. If they are still on the Rock then,” she added.
“They may be. We cannot know.”
“With your permission, as his father,” she said, “I want to give Colban some watered wine, warmed and spiced, mixed with willow and a few herbs to help with pain. That will help him sleep.”
“Whatever you think is needed.”
She nodded and turned to speak quietly to Colban, who listened eagerly, watching her with bright, adoring eyes.
So Colban was another, Aedan thought, who was falling in love with his beautiful caretaker. For an instant, love swamped him too, simple and warm and expansive, for the boy and the woman both. He touched Colban’s head, caressing the silky, tousled hair. He hated to leave him again and did not want to send him away, but his family would be safer in the lair on Bass Rock. Just for a little while, he told himself.
