before their eyes. Or a two-headed pig. Somewhere between the last thing they expected to see and something they couldn’t believe existed.
Kensey knelt next to him on the ground and looked at his wound again. It didn’t appear to be bleeding again, but that could very well be because he didn’t have blood left to give, which would mean sure death.
“He needs to be somewhere he can be for an indefinite time.” She put her hand on his forehead and looked up at Duncan. “I’m sorry to bring him to you, but we found him on the road and he needs immediate care.”
Duncan nodded, his mouth a red “o” in the midst of his bearded face. His eyes were nearly as round. “Take him to the solar.”
Alec started to protest and Duncan silence him with a simple gesture. With the same hand, he pointed up toward the bowels of the castle. “The one place he’s likely not to be disturbed. Take him to the solar,” Duncan repeated.
Alec bent down near his shoulders and cleared his throat. Duncan stopped staring and took the stranger by his feet. Kensey followed close behind, reminding them always to be careful. But otherwise, no one spoke.
When they reached the entrance to the great hall, they took a steep set of stairs up into the tower. Kensey followed them, watching the man’s face for signs of pain and calling out instructions if it appeared that the men were not taking appropriate care of his wound or his condition. They continued down the unlit hallway until they reached the very last door.
“Set him down gently,” Kensey ordered as they neared the huge bed. “Please be careful not to touch the wound.” As they laid him down, she removed his cloak, setting it aside, and noted that the fabric of his plaided tunic had been torn in several places. The swath that used to cover his left shoulder hung in shreds, as though it had been severed. She could see another, smaller wound on his shoulder, and hoped that the men had similarly noticed it. Kensey moved to the side of the bed and looked more carefully at the wound in his side.
“Malcolm, could you fetch Robert and ask him to bring my healing satchel?” Malcolm nodded and left the room with haste. With the unease that only men could have in the sick room, the others followed his speed and his exit, until only Duncan remained.
“Can you cure him?” Duncan asked, leaning over her shoulder and at the bloody mess of the man’s torn side.
“I think I may be able to.” She took Duncan by the shoulders. “Could you get me some clean rags and two pans of hot water, please? Oh, and bring some whiskey.”
“Aye, lass,” Duncan said, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “I will return shortly.”
Now that she was alone with him, Kensey set about removing his tunic. Somehow, it seemed easier to do when there were no prying eyes about. She started by unhooking the binding of the shoulder swath out from underneath him by carefully lifting his left side. Once that was done, she pulled the remaining fabric down several inches, well clear of the wound. So much of his naked skin was visible, and she could not help herself taking in every inch of him.
Having a younger brother and assisting Ete as a young lady, she had seen men and women in their nakedness many times. But there was something different about the way she studied this man’s near to naked body. It was not only to search out injury or sign of illness. She drank in his skin, his hair, his every feature, as though she meant to ingest it. Even in his woundedness, she couldn’t help but marvel at him. She reached up a hand to run her fingers along the scar on his arm, and traced it from one tapered edge near his wrist to the other more knotted edge near his elbow. His eyes fluttered for a moment, but he did not wake.
Malcolm entered the room with Robert and her satchel in tow. Kensey, seeing her brother immediately shielded him from the wound and pulled her body toward the midsection and the wound.
“Robert,
Kensey knelt next to him on the ground and looked at his wound again. It didn’t appear to be bleeding again, but that could very well be because he didn’t have blood left to give, which would mean sure death.
“He needs to be somewhere he can be for an indefinite time.” She put her hand on his forehead and looked up at Duncan. “I’m sorry to bring him to you, but we found him on the road and he needs immediate care.”
Duncan nodded, his mouth a red “o” in the midst of his bearded face. His eyes were nearly as round. “Take him to the solar.”
Alec started to protest and Duncan silence him with a simple gesture. With the same hand, he pointed up toward the bowels of the castle. “The one place he’s likely not to be disturbed. Take him to the solar,” Duncan repeated.
Alec bent down near his shoulders and cleared his throat. Duncan stopped staring and took the stranger by his feet. Kensey followed close behind, reminding them always to be careful. But otherwise, no one spoke.
When they reached the entrance to the great hall, they took a steep set of stairs up into the tower. Kensey followed them, watching the man’s face for signs of pain and calling out instructions if it appeared that the men were not taking appropriate care of his wound or his condition. They continued down the unlit hallway until they reached the very last door.
“Set him down gently,” Kensey ordered as they neared the huge bed. “Please be careful not to touch the wound.” As they laid him down, she removed his cloak, setting it aside, and noted that the fabric of his plaided tunic had been torn in several places. The swath that used to cover his left shoulder hung in shreds, as though it had been severed. She could see another, smaller wound on his shoulder, and hoped that the men had similarly noticed it. Kensey moved to the side of the bed and looked more carefully at the wound in his side.
“Malcolm, could you fetch Robert and ask him to bring my healing satchel?” Malcolm nodded and left the room with haste. With the unease that only men could have in the sick room, the others followed his speed and his exit, until only Duncan remained.
“Can you cure him?” Duncan asked, leaning over her shoulder and at the bloody mess of the man’s torn side.
“I think I may be able to.” She took Duncan by the shoulders. “Could you get me some clean rags and two pans of hot water, please? Oh, and bring some whiskey.”
“Aye, lass,” Duncan said, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “I will return shortly.”
Now that she was alone with him, Kensey set about removing his tunic. Somehow, it seemed easier to do when there were no prying eyes about. She started by unhooking the binding of the shoulder swath out from underneath him by carefully lifting his left side. Once that was done, she pulled the remaining fabric down several inches, well clear of the wound. So much of his naked skin was visible, and she could not help herself taking in every inch of him.
Having a younger brother and assisting Ete as a young lady, she had seen men and women in their nakedness many times. But there was something different about the way she studied this man’s near to naked body. It was not only to search out injury or sign of illness. She drank in his skin, his hair, his every feature, as though she meant to ingest it. Even in his woundedness, she couldn’t help but marvel at him. She reached up a hand to run her fingers along the scar on his arm, and traced it from one tapered edge near his wrist to the other more knotted edge near his elbow. His eyes fluttered for a moment, but he did not wake.
Malcolm entered the room with Robert and her satchel in tow. Kensey, seeing her brother immediately shielded him from the wound and pulled her body toward the midsection and the wound.
“Robert,
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