Read Online Highland Warrior by Hannah Howell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Hannah Howell
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ere I let ye prance about.”
“I ne’er prance,” grumbled Simon, and sighed when everyone just grinned at him.
“I brought a potion to give him to ease the pain,” Mab said, glancing nervously at Fiona.
Fiona almost laughed at the looks of alarm that swiftly passed over Simon and Gregor’s faces. “Weel, he slept easily all night without a potion, Mab. True, that could have been because he was too exhausted to be troubled by any pain. Best we leave it to Simon to decide.” She had to grin at the identical looks of relief the brothers quickly hid from Mab.
“Do ye need something for the pain, lad?” Mab asked Simon.
“Nay, Mab,” Simon replied. “I willnae say it doesnae hurt, but ’tis nay bad enough to drink a potion. Those things make my head ache and my stomach churn when I wake up again.”
“Come then, Fiona-of-the-ten-knives,” Gregor said, grinning as he took her by the arm and led her toward the door. “Time to break your fast.”
“Why did he call her that verra odd name?” Mab asked Simon.
Fiona sighed as she and Gregor stepped into the hall and he shut the door on Simon’s reply. She supposed it had been too much to hope for that all the details of her capture would not be told. There had been twelve heartily amused men there, after all. The people of Scarglas were going to think she was very odd, she mused, then almost laughed. Recalling all Mab had told her, odd was almost a rite of passage at Scarglas.
“Simon will heal, will he not?” asked Gregor as they entered the great hall. “He looked weel enough. Better than I had expected.”
“I believe he will be just fine,” replied Fiona. “Another day or two without a sign of fever or infection and then all one needs to worry about is keeping him still enough to let his wounds close tight.” She hid her surprise when Gregor led her to the laird’s table.
“Would ye really lash him to the bed?”
“In a heartbeat,” she replied, ignoring his soft laughter. “If ’twas just the wound upon his arm, he wouldnae have to be too confined, but the wound upon his belly requires that he be verra still if it is to close weel. Every time he moves his body, he tugs at those stitches. In truth, ’twill be a week or more ere I will e’en allow him to don the loosest of clothing. So, if he tries to get up, he will have to do so naked.”
Gregor laughed again as he urged her into a seat next to Ewan. “I believe he will stay abed.”
Fiona simply nodded, too unsettled by being near Ewan to think of a coherent reply. A part of her found the way she reacted to Ewan fascinating, even encouraging, for she had begun to think she would never feel such interest in any man. She never had before Menzies had begun tormenting her, and she had feared that Menzies’s actions had killed all chance that she ever would. What irritated and alarmed her was that her body, perhaps even her heart, would choose to be drawn to a man who had every intention of selling her back to her family.
“How is Simon?” asked Ewan after glaring at Gregor, who sat down on his right.
As Fiona replied, he studied her. Dressed as a lad, she had been beautiful, too beautiful for his peace of mind. Dressed as a woman, she took his breath away. She was temptation on two pretty feet. Just the sound of her slightly husky voice had him taut with need. A glance at his father revealed that the man found Fiona attractive, and Ewan scowled. The man could not possibly be thinking of trying his charms on a lass over thirty years younger than him, could he? Ewan not only found that distasteful, but realized a small part of him was afraid that his father might succeed. That tasted of jealousy and Ewan inwardly grimaced. He was in a lot more danger than he had realized.
“Why are ye still tending the lad?” demanded Sir Fingal.
“I was there when he was wounded,” replied Fiona. “I believe in finishing whate’er I have begun.”
“Mab can do it.”
“Ah, but if we
“I ne’er prance,” grumbled Simon, and sighed when everyone just grinned at him.
“I brought a potion to give him to ease the pain,” Mab said, glancing nervously at Fiona.
Fiona almost laughed at the looks of alarm that swiftly passed over Simon and Gregor’s faces. “Weel, he slept easily all night without a potion, Mab. True, that could have been because he was too exhausted to be troubled by any pain. Best we leave it to Simon to decide.” She had to grin at the identical looks of relief the brothers quickly hid from Mab.
“Do ye need something for the pain, lad?” Mab asked Simon.
“Nay, Mab,” Simon replied. “I willnae say it doesnae hurt, but ’tis nay bad enough to drink a potion. Those things make my head ache and my stomach churn when I wake up again.”
“Come then, Fiona-of-the-ten-knives,” Gregor said, grinning as he took her by the arm and led her toward the door. “Time to break your fast.”
“Why did he call her that verra odd name?” Mab asked Simon.
Fiona sighed as she and Gregor stepped into the hall and he shut the door on Simon’s reply. She supposed it had been too much to hope for that all the details of her capture would not be told. There had been twelve heartily amused men there, after all. The people of Scarglas were going to think she was very odd, she mused, then almost laughed. Recalling all Mab had told her, odd was almost a rite of passage at Scarglas.
“Simon will heal, will he not?” asked Gregor as they entered the great hall. “He looked weel enough. Better than I had expected.”
“I believe he will be just fine,” replied Fiona. “Another day or two without a sign of fever or infection and then all one needs to worry about is keeping him still enough to let his wounds close tight.” She hid her surprise when Gregor led her to the laird’s table.
“Would ye really lash him to the bed?”
“In a heartbeat,” she replied, ignoring his soft laughter. “If ’twas just the wound upon his arm, he wouldnae have to be too confined, but the wound upon his belly requires that he be verra still if it is to close weel. Every time he moves his body, he tugs at those stitches. In truth, ’twill be a week or more ere I will e’en allow him to don the loosest of clothing. So, if he tries to get up, he will have to do so naked.”
Gregor laughed again as he urged her into a seat next to Ewan. “I believe he will stay abed.”
Fiona simply nodded, too unsettled by being near Ewan to think of a coherent reply. A part of her found the way she reacted to Ewan fascinating, even encouraging, for she had begun to think she would never feel such interest in any man. She never had before Menzies had begun tormenting her, and she had feared that Menzies’s actions had killed all chance that she ever would. What irritated and alarmed her was that her body, perhaps even her heart, would choose to be drawn to a man who had every intention of selling her back to her family.
“How is Simon?” asked Ewan after glaring at Gregor, who sat down on his right.
As Fiona replied, he studied her. Dressed as a lad, she had been beautiful, too beautiful for his peace of mind. Dressed as a woman, she took his breath away. She was temptation on two pretty feet. Just the sound of her slightly husky voice had him taut with need. A glance at his father revealed that the man found Fiona attractive, and Ewan scowled. The man could not possibly be thinking of trying his charms on a lass over thirty years younger than him, could he? Ewan not only found that distasteful, but realized a small part of him was afraid that his father might succeed. That tasted of jealousy and Ewan inwardly grimaced. He was in a lot more danger than he had realized.
“Why are ye still tending the lad?” demanded Sir Fingal.
“I was there when he was wounded,” replied Fiona. “I believe in finishing whate’er I have begun.”
“Mab can do it.”
“Ah, but if we
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