Page 41 of The Scot's Secret Love
Frida paused, one hand in the basin of cooling water. “Did the guard think him a Scot?” Her eyes flew to Callum, who stood curiously still. “Is it possible that you rode here with a Scotsman? On a quest to protect us from increased Scottish raids?”
Her mind immediately conjured visions of musclebound highland warriors, robed in tartan, shrieking vengeance as they stormed across the hills. Mayhap her father had not been wrong to order fortifications be built at Ember Hall.
But when Callum turned to her, he looked unperturbed. “We live close to the border, this far north.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Bloodlines are mixed. ’Tis true e’en of the French and the English. And in the most noble households.”
Again, he did not answer my question.
But she could not deny the truth of his words.
A faint moan from Arlo chased away all such thoughts. It was good news if the boy was regaining consciousness. But ’twould be better still if she could stitch his wound before he fully recovered his senses.
“Pass me the needle,” she said quickly to Jennifer.
“I have already threaded it,” the girl replied.
Frida worked quickly, closing her mind to the horrors of the gaping wound and the layers of muscle she could glimpse through the ragged flesh. She did not allow doubts over her competence, nor the neatness of her stitching to take over. And when she had finished, she scooped up honey and wadded it into the wound before swathing it with bandages. The boy perchance had a long journey of recovery before him, but she had done all she could.
All she knew how.
Her head dropped with both fatigue and a wave of distress which came in place of the adrenaline that had fuelled her actions thus far. Callum clearly held himself responsible for this young man. And Frida felt the same.
But was she equipped to restore balance when so much harm had been wreaked?
In times past she might have looked to the spirits for an answer. Now she stood alone. And she had never felt the isolation more.
She closed her eyes to ward off tears that were already brimming.
Shock, the rational part of her mind declared.
Callum’s voice broke through her growing sorrow. “Jennifer, might you fetch us some wine?”
As the girl’s footsteps passed through the chamber, Callum’s warm hand fastened about her wrist. She sensed him drawing closer and it took all her remaining strength not to rest heraching head against his muscular chest. To seek comfort in one so willing to offer it.
“You did well,” he said, softly.
Frida opened her eyes, relieved that no tears spilled down her cheeks. She sniffed and inclined her head towards the boy. “We must ensure no fever sets in.”
Callum nodded. He had come to rest on the rug beside her, not so very much closer than they had been while she tended to Arlo. But now his body was angled towards Frida.
His hand remained about her wrist, anchoring her to hope and banishing the fears that flickered at the edge of her consciousness. She breathed in woodsmoke from the fire, mingled with Callum’s particular masculine scent.
“You have given him a chance.” His voice was thick.
She nodded, swallowing down a lump of emotion. “Let us hope, a strong chance.”
“Aye.” His brown eyes looked down into hers, as if calling her home. Without shifting his gaze, his hand left her right wrist and skimmed up over the length of her arm, sending flickers of awareness through her stiff body. When his palm cupped her cheek, she could do naught but lean into it, batting her eyelids shut as his thumb carefully nudged away a stubborn tear. “Frida,” he said.
With one word he lit a fire inside her.
Her eyes flew open to find his face inches from hers. Acting purely on instinct, she reached up to place her own hand over his. Her breath caught in her throat as their fingers entwined.
“You are remarkable,” he whispered. “I knew it from the first.”
A smile hovered around her lips, despite knowing all the reasons she should dispute his praise. For one, the proof of her skill with Arlo remained to be seen. For two, she had solemnly vowed to live a life clear of men.
But this man had found a place in her heart, however much she might try to deny it.
“I simply do my best.” She paused, anticipation tingling down her spine. “As we all must.”
