Page 47 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
“And this will need to be applied generously along the girl’s brow and behind her neck whenever ye arenae holdin' the cold press to her temple.”
“For how long?”
“Just tonight, and nae more than that.”
“Just one day?”
“Aye, a bairn’s head is more malleable than when they are grown. It can heal in a much quicker amount of time than ours. One night, and nay more. If the pain persists past breakin' fast tomorrow, bring her back to me straight away.”
Amara thanked him curly, scooped Daisy back up, and carried her out.
Halfway back to the family quarters, she heard it — boots thundering up the stairwell.
Rhys.
He rounded the corner fast, wild-eyed.
“Is she — What happened?”
“She’s well,” Amara said before he could finish. “Just a bruise on the leg and an ache on her head. She tripped over the low wall in the courtyard.”
Relief flooded his face. “God above.”
Daisy reached out for him without thinking, and Amara passed her into his arms. But to their surprise, the girl didn’t let go of her hand.
“Come with us?” Daisy asked, sleepily.
Rhys looked at Amara.
She nodded.
Together, they brought Daisy to her chamber. The girl was tired and clingy but smiled through the ache as she climbed under the covers. Rhys tucked her in while Amara knelt on the other side, brushing the curls from her damp cheeks.
“Will ye stay, miss?” Daisy asked, blinking up at them.
Amara looked at Rhys. He nodded once, silent.
They lay on either side of the child. Amara on her back, one hand resting lightly on the bed, and Rhys sitting sideways so he could face them both.
He cleared his throat. “Shall I tell ye both about the sheep who wish to fly, then?”
Daisy giggled faintly, “That’s nae real.”
“Nay? How can ye be so sure?”
Daisy giggled, wincing slightly from the pain as Amara started to rub the creams along her leg and brow and neck.
“All right, Da,” the young girl relented, and Rhys told them the tale of how Bartholet Butterfly the Black Sheep wished to fly.
His voice was low and gentle, wrapping around them like a blanket. Daisy’s eyes fluttered shut halfway through the story, and her breathing slowed.
Amara stayed still, watching her chest rise and fall.
On the other side of the bed, she felt Rhys’s eyes on her.
Neither said a thing.
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