Chapter 20
The horse stepped into a small hollow, and Ceana slipped lower against Oscar’s chest.
His arm tightened around her before her weight could pull her sideways.
He drew her upright, keeping his forearm above her bruised ribs, then settled her head beneath his chin again, his cloak covering her from shoulders to boots.
One corner had come loose near her wrist, so he tucked it beneath her arm and moved the reins away from the bruises Bryce had left.
He lowered his face until her breath warmed the underside of his jaw. It came rather evenly, which gave him one less thing to worry about. He found the pulse in her wrist and counted several beats before pressing the back of his fingers to her cheek. Her skin was cold.
He sighed and pulled the cloak closer.
The blood had dried stiff across his sleeve and collar. A smaller patch came from the cut near his hairline, but the rest belonged to men he had dispatched.
Ceana did not stir when the horses changed pace.
“Ceana.” He touched his thumb to her jaw. “Open yer eyes.”
Her lashes lifted. “I am awake.”
“What tower lies beyond the next rise?”
“MacKane’s.” Her mouth moved faintly against his shirt. “Unless ye moved it while I slept.”
His breath left through his nose. “I didnae.”
“I am only tired, Oscar. I am nae lost.”
Oscar laughed. “All right, then.”
She nodded, and her eyes closed again just as Lennan brought his horse beside them.
“There are six wounded men ridin’ with the rear party. Two remain at Morrag because none of them could travel safely. We have seen nay second force.”
“Send a rider ahead,” Oscar instructed. “Clear the surgery and have water heated. The worst wounds are seen first when the rear party arrives.”
Lennan lowered his head and fell back.
The watch called from the curtain wall as Oscar reached the rise. The gates were opening before his horse descended the final slope. Mairi stepped out into the courtyard with several servants behind her. However, what had stopped him in his tracks was something else entirely.
Ahead of Mairi was a woman in a plain woolen gown, moving to catch up to them.
Nay. This cannae be.
“What?”
Oscar knew those steady eyes and that firm set of her mouth. Her hair was pinned away from her face, as it had been whenever she worked beside their mother.
“Am I hallucinatin’?”
He blinked and watched as she approached. A clean linen apron covered her gown, and a leather satchel hung from one shoulder. Then he saw the pale scar across her cheek and the edge of another beneath her collar.
“Muriel?” His voice was low. He almost didn’t want to speak her name, in case she was truly a hallucination.
Muriel stopped beside his horse. Her gaze flicked to the cut at his hairline before falling to Ceana.
“I heard ye had actually married,” she said. “I didnae want to lose more time.”
Oscar could not form an answer. He kept Ceana against him with one arm and reached down with the other. His palm cupped Muriel’s cheek, feeling her warmth. She closed her fingers around his wrist.
“Good day, Sister.”
Ceana shifted against him and winced.
Muriel released him at once. “How long has she slept? Did she hit her head? Whose blood is that?”
“She has slept since—”
“Bring her inside.”
“Did ye truly become a healer?”
“Aye. Ye may ask the rest after I have seen yer wife.”
Lennan held Ceana steady while Oscar dismounted. He reached up and lifted her from the saddle. Her eyes opened as he drew her against his chest.
“Muriel?” she murmured.
“I am Oscar’s sister,” Muriel said, walking beside them. “And I will see where ye are hurt.”
Ceana studied her face through heavy eyes. “Welcome home.”
Muriel’s hands stopped on the clasp of her satchel. She gave Ceana one brief nod and opened the door to the surgery.
At the threshold, Lennan reached for Oscar’s sword belt and unbuckled it. Oscar released the leather without looking away from Ceana.
Muriel glanced at the dried blood beside his temple. “I will clean that cut.”
“See to Ceana first.”
Muriel sighed. “Alright. Then wash it before ye sleep.”
Mairi brought water and folded linen while Oscar lowered Ceana onto the narrow bed.
Muriel drew a stool closer. “Do ye want yer husband to stay here?” she asked.
Ceana looked at Oscar. “Aye. Stay.”
The muscles in his forearm flexed as he braced a hand on the bedframe.
“Where do ye hurt?” Muriel asked.
“Bryce caught her across the ribs and—”
She looked up. “I asked Ceana.”
Oscar closed his mouth. He moved one step back and clasped his hands behind him.
“Me ribs ache when I breathe deeply,” Ceana replied. “Both arms. Me right wrist. The cut on me palm stings.”
Muriel turned her face toward the window and examined her eyes, then pressed two fingers to her uninjured wrist, checking her pulse. She asked Ceana to open and close each hand. When the right one moved more slowly, Muriel supported it and tested the joint with careful pressure.
“Strained,” she concluded. “But nae broken.”
She loosened Ceana’s gown enough to reach the bruised area without exposing her. Bryce’s finger marks had begun to darken along both upper arms. The sight made Oscar’s hands twitch.
That bastard.
Muriel pressed her fingers along Ceana’s ribs. Ceana sucked in a sharp breath, and Oscar took a step forward. His sister, however, raised one hand, stopping him. His hands closed around the footboard until the wood bit into his skin.
“Draw a full breath,” Muriel instructed.
Ceana obeyed. Her face tightened near the end, though her breath remained clear. Muriel checked the other side, then covered her again.
“Yer ribs are bruised, but nothin’ is displaced.”
She washed the scrape across Ceana’s palm and bound it with a narrow strip of linen. Oscar watched her fingers pass over every mark he had been unable to prevent.
“Warmth, water, and rest,” Muriel advised. “Food when ye can bear it. If ye keep swoonin’ after sleep, send someone for me immediately.” She looked from Ceana to Oscar. “She will recover.”
“Ye are certain?”
“Aye. I wouldnae say it otherwise.”
The sound of running feet approached the door at that moment, and the children came in before Oscar knew it.
Tommy reached the bed first, while Paisley followed with a folded blanket clasped against her chest. Ness poked her head around the door behind them, but Mairi caught the goat’s lead before she could reach Muriel’s satchel.
“We heard ye came to the healer,” Tommy said. “Even Ness was worried.”
“Mind her ribs,” Muriel warned.
Tommy wrapped his arms carefully around Ceana’s waist. Paisley took Ceana’s uninjured hand before spreading the blanket over her legs.
“Ness wouldnae eat,” Tommy said. “She only walked around.”
Paisley looked toward Muriel and went still. “Ye are still here.”
“Of course, darlin’,” Muriel responded, stroking her hair gently. “I told ye I would wait for yer faither to return.”
Eventually, her hand dropped, and Paisley turned back to Ceana. “Is yer family safe?”
“Aye.” Ceana’s gaze found Oscar. “Thanks to yer faither.”
His right hand moved toward his hip. The sword belt was gone, so his fingers stopped against his bloodied shirt. His jaw worked once, but he did not speak.
“Take her upstairs now,” Muriel said, gesturing towards Ceana.
“I will carry her.” Oscar stepped toward the bed.
Ceana set her feet on the floor. “I can walk, for the love of God.”
Muriel watched her stand, then nodded to Mairi.
Oscar held himself still as Mairi supported Ceana’s uninjured side. Paisley remained beside her, and Tommy hurried ahead to clear the passage, with Ness following close behind.
Before Ceana turned away, she laid her fingers on Oscar’s forearm. The touch lasted only a moment. He watched her climb the stairs until she disappeared beyond the landing.
“She will recover,” Muriel assured him. “Now, where were we?”
He kept his eyes on the landing, taking deep breaths. A board creaked above him, followed by the faint scrape of a footstep. His right arm still held the curve it had taken around Ceana on the road. Snapping himself back to the present, he forced it to his side.
Behind him, water poured into a basin. Muriel washed her hands, folded the used cloths, and closed the buckles of her satchel. She took the chair nearest the wall, angled so she could see the door.
“Yer wife is kind,” she remarked. “Ye are fortunate.”
Oscar faced her. The scar across her cheek ended near the corner of her mouth, pale against her skin.
“I wish ye had been as fortunate.” He moved closer and stopped at the table across from her. “Did Angus do that to ye?”
Muriel rested the folded cloth on her knee. “Nay, Bryce did.”
Oscar’s fingers closed around the table’s edge.
“I hadnae conceived during the first year of me marriage,” she continued. “Bryce decided Angus needed another wife, so, naturally, he ordered his son to kill me.”
The wood dug into Oscar’s palm. “And Angus obeyed?”
“He stood there. Bryce grew tired of waitin’ and took up the blade himself.” Muriel touched neither scar. She kept her gaze on him. “He began before Angus found the courage to stop him.”
Oscar quickly rounded the table. Muriel’s fingers froze on the cloth. He saw it and halted. Slowly, he opened his hand.
“How did Angus stop him?”
Muriel sighed. “Well, he took the blade from him and said he understood what must be done. Bryce believed Angus would finish it once we were alone.” Her thumb brushed across the linen. “When Bryce left, Angus apologized. Then he carried me beyond Gilmore land and found a healer willing to hide me.”
Oscar dragged the empty chair closer and sat, leaving space between them. “Bryce believed ye dead?”
“Angus told him I was, but it didnae last long. Word spread that I had left me marriage. Letters came after, written in me hand.”
Oscar clenched his jaw. “Did ye write them willingly?”
“I wrote what Angus told me would keep Bryce from searchin’.
If Bryce believed I had chosen to disappear, his pride wouldnae allow him to admit he couldnae find me.
” Muriel looked down at her hands. Fine calluses marked the pads of her fingers.
“The healer kept me alive. When I could stand, I helped grind herbs and change dressings. In time, the work became mine, and I stayed for it.”
Oscar paused, absorbing everything his sister had just said to him before speaking again. “So, Angus saved ye.”
“Aye. He saved me life.” Her grip tightened on the folded cloth.
“But he also made ye believe that I had abandoned every person I loved. He let me carry the name of a faithless wife while he remained at Bryce’s side.
Then he decided to marry Daphne while I was still his wife. So I’m nae all that grateful.”
Oscar looked at the dried blood across his sleeve. “I see.”
“I owe Angus me life,” Muriel acknowledged. “But I daenae owe him me return.”
“Ye owe him nothin’.” Oscar raised his eyes to hers. “I killed Bryce today.”
Muriel drew in a breath through her nose. Her fingers did not move on the cloth.
“Had I ken,” he said, “I would have made him suffer.”
“More pain wouldnae give me back the year I lost.”
Oscar bowed his head. The blood had dried beneath his nails and had caught in the creases of his knuckles. “I should have come for ye.”
Muriel leaned forward and laid her hand over his. “I sent letters in me own hand. Ye had nay proof that Angus had harmed me or kept me. If ye had marched upon Gilmore, people on both sides would have died for what ye couldnae prove.”
“Ye were alone.”
She exhaled. “But I survived. That is all that matters in the end.”
He turned his hand beneath hers and pulled her from the chair. His arms closed around her, and the coarse linen of her apron bunched beneath his fist. She held him for several heartbeats, one palm pressed between his shoulders, then stepped back.
“Angus willnae take ye from MacKane,” Oscar promised. “I will seek every lawful means to end the marriage.”
“I didnae come back so another man could make decisions for me, Oscar,” Muriel replied. “I will decide what to do and how.”
“Aye, of course,” Oscar responded before calling for Lennan.
His man-at-arms appeared in the doorway, carrying his sword belt.
“Send a rider to a solicitor at first light,” Oscar ordered. “I want to ken whether Muriel’s marriage can be annulled, and what protection can be secured against any Gilmore claim.”
Lennan inclined his head gravely. “It will be done.”
Oscar gestured toward the sword. “Keep it below.”
When Lennan withdrew, Muriel opened her satchel and checked its contents. “I want the chamber closest to the surgery. I will need the herbs and linens, and leave to tend the villagers.”
“They are yers. Choose whatever work ye wish.” Oscar held her gaze. “Welcome home, Muriel.”
Another board creaked overhead, and Tommy’s voice carried faintly through the ceiling.
Muriel said something about the herb stores, but Oscar caught only the final words. His arm had curved again, his hand suspended where Ceana’s waist had rested against him.
“Why are ye standin’ here when yer mind is upstairs?” she asked, snapping him back to the present.
“What?” He blinked.
“I can tell yer mind is with her. Go to yer wife.”
He shook his head. “Nay. I have only just got back me sister.”
“And I will still be here at breakfast.” She took up her satchel. “Go.”
Oscar crossed the passage and climbed up the great stairs without stopping to wash the blood from his face or sleeves.
Near the upper landing, Tommy’s low voice came through his chamber door, and Paisley corrected him in a whisper.
He could even hear the scrape of Ness’s hooves across the floorboards.
Eventually, he reached the doorway.
Tommy had wedged himself against Ceana’s right side, and Paisley sat at her left, one hand covering Ceana’s beneath the folded blanket. Ness lay across the rug at the foot of the bed, her chin resting on her forelegs.
The view felt formidable just as Ceana turned toward the doorway, and he watched with nothing but concern in his eyes.