hung his head, shaking it from side to side. “Milady,” he began softly, “I dinna ken how to ever tell ye how sorry I am for what I said to ye. Ye didna deserve it and it was mean of me.”
“Why did ye say it then?”
“I—I don’t know.” He knew, of course, but he couldn’t add his own hurt feelings to the burden she carried. Not now that he had realized her true feelings for her husband. To try to avoid the subject, he reached down and took a cloth in the bowl of water. “Come here,” he said.
After a slight hesitation, she leaned toward him and he wiped her face with the cool cloth then laid it against her forehead. Closing her eyes, she sighed and said, “Ah, that feels good.” She held the compress in place with her own hands, covering his as she took the cloth from him.
He jerked away from her as if he’d been burned. Her sigh, her words and the touch of her hands conjured up vivid images of those hands caressing his body—and his cock responded instinctively.
When he saw her giving him a questioning look, he said, more gruffly than he intended, “Put the cloth against yer eyes, ’twill take some of the swelling down.” Then he turned and poured her a cup of tea. “Essie made her rabbit stew for us tonight. I think the beastie was one that was after yer neeps,” he said, in an attempt to make her smile.
His attempt failed. “I cannae eat.” Her gaze went back to her husband. “I’ve a lump in my throat and naught will go past it.”
He handed her the cup. “Drink some tea then. It will go down easy.”
“All right,” she said. She accepted the cup from him, but her hands shook so much that he reached out to help her steady it. She did not pull away from his touch as he had from hers. She took a sip and finally gave him a quick smile. “It’s good. Thank you.”
He nodded and they sat in silence for a few minutes as she finished her tea. He refilled her drink and gave it back to her, noticing that her hands appeared a bit steadier. She still had her beads wrapped around the fingers of one hand.
“May I ask ye something, Angus?”
He felt a little uneasy as to what her question might be. “Aye?” he replied softly.
“How did ye know the way to handle Edgar when he fell?”
“Oh that,” he said. “Well, after one of the battles, we came across a young lad who had fallen off a large rock. He said his legs felt tingly and he couldna walk, so we lifted him to carry him back to our lines. We neglected to hold his head and when it fell backward, he died instantly.” Angus closed his eyes, seeing again the boy’s face as if it had only happened yesterday. “The surgeon later told us his neck had snapped. Had we but kept it still, he might have lived.”
She placed her hand gently on his. “But, Angus, ye’re not a surgeon. Ye couldn’t have known.”
“Aye, but ’tis bad enough to be killed by the enemy, let alone yer own men.”
They fell silent again. Em’s innocent question had stirred up a host of images that raced through Angus’ mind—memories that invaded his waking thoughts and haunted his dreams so that he awakened screaming and in a cold sweat in the dark of night.
He squeezed his eyes shut briefly to clear the visions away, then looked over at Em. “Milady? May I ask you a question?”
She nodded.
“What happened to ye, when ye were turned out of yer house, I mean?”
For a moment, she stared off into space as if seeing it all played out again before her eyes. Then she began, “I left my home with only the clothes on my back and what little food I could carry and hid in the woods and in caves, traveling only in the dark, trying to get to a town, a city, anywhere that I might find work and a safe place to stay. One night I was sae tired, I fell asleep in a ditch by the road. I awakened to find a man staring down at me. It turned out to be one of my father’s tenants.
“Why did ye say it then?”
“I—I don’t know.” He knew, of course, but he couldn’t add his own hurt feelings to the burden she carried. Not now that he had realized her true feelings for her husband. To try to avoid the subject, he reached down and took a cloth in the bowl of water. “Come here,” he said.
After a slight hesitation, she leaned toward him and he wiped her face with the cool cloth then laid it against her forehead. Closing her eyes, she sighed and said, “Ah, that feels good.” She held the compress in place with her own hands, covering his as she took the cloth from him.
He jerked away from her as if he’d been burned. Her sigh, her words and the touch of her hands conjured up vivid images of those hands caressing his body—and his cock responded instinctively.
When he saw her giving him a questioning look, he said, more gruffly than he intended, “Put the cloth against yer eyes, ’twill take some of the swelling down.” Then he turned and poured her a cup of tea. “Essie made her rabbit stew for us tonight. I think the beastie was one that was after yer neeps,” he said, in an attempt to make her smile.
His attempt failed. “I cannae eat.” Her gaze went back to her husband. “I’ve a lump in my throat and naught will go past it.”
He handed her the cup. “Drink some tea then. It will go down easy.”
“All right,” she said. She accepted the cup from him, but her hands shook so much that he reached out to help her steady it. She did not pull away from his touch as he had from hers. She took a sip and finally gave him a quick smile. “It’s good. Thank you.”
He nodded and they sat in silence for a few minutes as she finished her tea. He refilled her drink and gave it back to her, noticing that her hands appeared a bit steadier. She still had her beads wrapped around the fingers of one hand.
“May I ask ye something, Angus?”
He felt a little uneasy as to what her question might be. “Aye?” he replied softly.
“How did ye know the way to handle Edgar when he fell?”
“Oh that,” he said. “Well, after one of the battles, we came across a young lad who had fallen off a large rock. He said his legs felt tingly and he couldna walk, so we lifted him to carry him back to our lines. We neglected to hold his head and when it fell backward, he died instantly.” Angus closed his eyes, seeing again the boy’s face as if it had only happened yesterday. “The surgeon later told us his neck had snapped. Had we but kept it still, he might have lived.”
She placed her hand gently on his. “But, Angus, ye’re not a surgeon. Ye couldn’t have known.”
“Aye, but ’tis bad enough to be killed by the enemy, let alone yer own men.”
They fell silent again. Em’s innocent question had stirred up a host of images that raced through Angus’ mind—memories that invaded his waking thoughts and haunted his dreams so that he awakened screaming and in a cold sweat in the dark of night.
He squeezed his eyes shut briefly to clear the visions away, then looked over at Em. “Milady? May I ask you a question?”
She nodded.
“What happened to ye, when ye were turned out of yer house, I mean?”
For a moment, she stared off into space as if seeing it all played out again before her eyes. Then she began, “I left my home with only the clothes on my back and what little food I could carry and hid in the woods and in caves, traveling only in the dark, trying to get to a town, a city, anywhere that I might find work and a safe place to stay. One night I was sae tired, I fell asleep in a ditch by the road. I awakened to find a man staring down at me. It turned out to be one of my father’s tenants.
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