Page 14 of My Scarred Laird
When she got to the clan, she stayed as hidden as she could.
Getting a job as a serving maid in the castle.
But of course, the Laird wanted to know who she was.
She had gotten his letter, almost laughing when she saw that he didn’t really sacrifice virgins, and she wondered who told him that she believed the rumors. She wanted to meet with him but had been given quite a load of work from the noblewomen who lived in the keep, and by the time she had the chance to meet him, someone had told him she was too afraid of him.
She wished she knew who told him that. She hated that he thought she was afraid of him.
That wasn’t the case. In fact, it was far from it. She heard from the people who worked in the keep that he was a good man, and she had no doubt. She went to thank him for his letter and how he told her that he wanted to get to know who she was when she heard whimpers and cries coming from his room.
She opened the door to find the Laird himself, kneeling on the floor, clutching at his head.
He stumbled as he tried to stand, and she could tell he was in so much pain that her heart went out to him.
She hurried toward him and helped him to his feet and toward his bed.
He stumbled a few times, and his leg didn’t help.
His limp was pronounced, and scars stood out on his face and his arms.
But he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
She helped him to his bed, and he lay flat and started to writhe on the bed.
She rushed to the basin of water by the window, and she got a cloth and wet it, putting it on his head and making his tense body go slack.
She hurried to the small room she had and mixed him something from her medicant boxes.
She had a feeling that his headache would get worse and that he would be in more pain if she didn’t hurry.
She grabbed what she needed and rushed back to his room, the Laird was moaning in pain, and she hated hearing the sound.
She mixed a medicant that would help with his headache and helped him to drink a little of it.
She had taken his boots off earlier and noticed one of his legs was also severely scarred.
It wasn’t as thick with muscle as the other and she could tell that it didn’t fully extend.
It looked painful, but he didn’t seem to mind it. Like he was used to the pain of it.
He must have worked hard on himself to get to walk at all, let alone do anything else.
She brushed his hair away from his face and she studied his gorgeous face with a critical eye.
He had long brown hair that was slightly curly and brown eyes.
Half of his face was covered in lighter scars than the rest of him and she could tell it pulled his mouth a little.
It didn’t deter from his beauty at all.
She knew he was strong. That his body was riddled with muscle. She could see it under his light shirt.
This man had overcome so much and yet his people mocked him and didn’t treat him with the respect he deserved.
She stayed with him most of the night, curling up on his bed beside him to keep him still and to let him know she was there.
He called out things in his sleep and cried out in pain more than once, and she helped him drink his medicant.
