The Laird by Sandy Blair Page A

your man-at-arms would have had his hands full had he done otherwise. And don’t get me started on that ass of a doctor. It’s no small wonder you didn’t die.”
    What the hell is she rattling on about?
    “Your shoulder still looks bad, but it’s a far sight better now, so...” She gave him another mouthful of broth.
    Ah, his shoulder wound. He flexed his left shoulder. It still hurt but not nearly as much as it had just...
    “Where--” He cleared the thickness in his throat. “Where is Angus?”
    “In the hall. Would you like me to call him?”
    “Aye.”
    She put down the bowl, ran a tentative hand down his cheek and grinned. “You need a shave, but I guess that can wait.”
    Shave? He touched his face and felt stubble. His beard was gone! What the bloody hell is going on here? He struggled to sit, only to find himself too weak to lift more than his head and his good shoulder. God’s teeth! “Angus. Now.”
    She smiled. “As you wish, sire.” Too his utter surprise, she placed a kiss on his forehead before leaving.
     
    ~#~
     
    “Finally, ye wake.” Angus clasped Duncan’s hand. “Ye know ye verra nearly shent my week by almost dying?”
    “Dying?”
    “Aye.” Angus dropped his voice to a whisper. “Had it not been for yonder wife, ye well may have. She’s not left yer side but to relieve herself in the garderobe. And why on earth did ye not say yer shoulder was a pestilence?”
    Duncan shrugged his good shoulder. “I thought it healing.” Angus raised a disbelieving brow and grunted before glancing at Beth who now stood straight backed and staring out the room’s small window.
    “Yer yon ladywife threatened all manner of mayhem when I suggested we bring back the doctor. Said she’d smote the man and then my bonnie self if ‘ the raunchy bastard so much as crossed the threshold! ’ Aye, those were her exact words.”
    “I donna understand raunchy. ” Bastard, he understood just fine.
    “Nor I, but her meaning sat clear as well water.” Angus chuckled. “And here I thought ye’d wed a pious woman.”
    He had. Hadn’t he? She certainly wasn’t reticent about threatening, but swearing in Angus’s presence? No lady born would hazard such.
    “Aye, and how she keened over ye, too, in the wee hours when she thought me asleep at the watch.” Angus shook his head, looking as bemused as Duncan felt. “She didna keen aloud, but silently, tears flowing like a burn, stroking yer brow. And she crooned when she thought herself alone with ye. I didna know her songs, but they were as soft as any lullaby.”
    How odd. Not a moment ago Lady Beth had nearly suffocated him by holding his nose.
    “And my beard?”
    Angus shrugged. “She said ye needed stripping to break yer fever and strip ye, we did, down to the flesh, face and all.”
    Was naught sacred to the woman? With trepidation, Duncan raised a shaking hand to his head and found his hair still attached but braided. Praise the saints.
    Angus chuckled, “She appeared quite satisfied with uncovering ye face and left it at that.”
    “Help me up.”
    Angus rested a hand on Duncan’s good shoulder. “Nay. Yon doctor wife would have my sweeties in her fist within a heartbeat. Ye are fevered still, though not as before. I’ve seen yer back, man. ‘Tis still a long way from healed.”
    Duncan heaved an exasperated sigh. He had a hundred things he needed to attend to if he’d truly been out like a doused fire for five days. “As yer liege lord, I order ye to help me up.”
    “Nay. I’d rather face yer fury on yer next good day, than deal with yon lady’s ire on this one.” He patted Duncan’s hand. “Oblige me by staying put, do as she asks, and mend.”
    Angus raised his voice and addressed Beth. “My lady, I take my leave, entrusting my lord into yer capable hands.”
    Beth blinked in surprise. Her husband’s second in command was leaving his post? “As you wish—-luste, Sir Angus.” His surprise at her deference registered