Chapter Twenty #4
First Ismay treated Wilkie’s many smaller cuts, and she decided to stitch the small slice in his arm.
Then she wrapped a bandage around it. Thankfully, Wilkie seemed swilled enough by the effects of the whiskey that he barely flinched during the stitching procedure, so I hoped his senses were suitably dulled.
I thought he might even sleep, but his eyes remained half open and aimed straight in my direction.
Ismay nodded to Wilkie’s brothers, who placed their hands on the back of Wilkie’s shoulders and around his arms in a decisive grip.
“Just a little sting now,” said Ismay to Wilkie. To his brothers, she whispered authoritatively, “Hold on tight.”
And she began to meticulously drizzle the whiskey onto Wilkie’s opened, raw flesh.
Wilkie flinched violently, thrashing against his brothers’ hold, grimacing and groaning with the agony of the burn.
But Ismay continued, until she was satisfied that the wounds had been properly sterilized, taking little notice of her unruly patient’s loud, furious response to her treatments.
I’d never heard such curses in all my life.
And when she was finished, she asked Laird Mackenzie and Kade to continue holding Wilkie for a few minutes longer, as she smoothed the healing salve onto the wounds and bandaged them. She may have feared retribution.
By then, Wilkie’s eyes were closed, and when his brothers released their hold, he lay still.
“Still alive, brother?” asked Kade wryly, yet with a note of unmistakable concern.
I was learning Wilkie’s brothers, too, I realized.
I knew Kade well enough to recognize that he was wont to find humor even in the direst of situations.
It was a quality I found intriguing. I couldn’t help but think that Stella Morrison was in for a time of it with Kade Mackenzie.
There were aspects to his fierce, direct countenance that were, occasionally, outrageously intimidating.
But the more time I spent around him, the more I could detect an underlying unruly playfulness to his character, which was both appealing and enigmatic; there were edges to this playfulness that suggested fun but also the distinct possibility of danger.
Again I wondered what Stella’s impressions of Kade were, and how she was reacting to the news of her impending nuptials.
“Aye,” Wilkie muttered from the depths of a pillow, not sounding entirely convincing.
“I daresay he’ll live,” Ismay said. “And a good night’s sleep will do him a world of good.”
“Thank you, Ismay,” I said. She smiled and packed away her medicines.
We settled into our sleeping furs for the night, close to the fire.
Wilkie was next to me, his furs draped over us both.
He lay on his side, facing me. The on-duty guards patrolled nearby as the others readied themselves for brief hours of sleep.
Ismay lay close to Ritchie, I couldn’t help but notice, and he was already snoring lightly, barely visible in the deep cocoon of his blankets.
Laird Mackenzie stared into the fire while Kade sipped from a small silver flask.
Fergus stood in the near distance, facing into the night.
In my life, I’d never had cause to consider preferences, in company, in family, in friends.
My purpose had not allowed for me to dream.
I considered my new fate, as the daughter of King William, if it was so, bound for a new life at Ossian Lochs as the wife of Wilkie, who would by rights become the new laird.
It was a lot to grasp. I was more than a little intimidated by the thought of Ossian Lochs, and of joining its established clan as a newly entitled overseer, with only Wilkie by my side.
It was true that Wilkie was all I needed.
He was everything that was essential to my life.
But if I were to look beyond that, beyond him, I could acknowledge that there could be more, too.
Ritchie and Ronan would accompany us. And Fergus, the stoic, silent giant whose presence afforded me with a profound and newly valued sense of safety, might also come with us.
And now Ismay, as well. I was sure she would join us; she had already voiced her intention to stay with me: my most trusted and only true friend in all the bleak days of my servitude, who had unfailingly offered me as much comfort as one can give in such circumstances.
I settled closer against my warrior, his strong arms holding me as tightly as they had in our very first fevered embrace.
I looked up at the star-studded sky, listening to the low sounds of the darkness and all who were near.
And as my heavy-lidded eyes watched first my own beloved, then one by one the people gathered around the softly crackling fire, I felt comforted by their company and their nearness.
I was surprised to find the firelight blurring with my own tears as a dawning realization overcame me: these fellow travelers who surrounded me felt like, and were, my family.