Page 27 of The Madam’s Highlander

Marian stood in the doorway, her skin white, her face stricken. “I...I think Captain Crosby...needs another cup of tea.” She backed away slowly. “Excuse me.”

She spun around and fled.

Freya cursed under her breath and rose to go to her sister. She glanced at Ewan to see if he intended to follow her and noticed how very pale he'd gone. Indecision warred for only a brief moment. Freya could not allow herself to have Ewan sacrifice his safety for her social failures.

Marian would be dealt with later. A clench of guilt squeezed Freya's heart. Damn it. She hadn't intended for her sister to hear. But the captain, who acted as though his hands were clean as snow and his right supreme, needed to know - to face the horrors of what his brethren had done.

“Ewan, ye dinna look well,” she said. For surely he did not.

“I'm fine,” he gritted out. He hauled himself to his feet, albeit a little slower than usual.

“Let me tuck ye into bed, husband.” She put a hand under his elbow to ensure he stayed upright. Although once in place, she realized he did not need her assistance. He was steady as a stone and his arm just as solid beneath her touch.

“Excuse us, Captain Crosby.”

But the captain said nothing. He merely stared down at the table where the empty pot of tea remained. Freya aided Ewan up the stairs, but her heart remained on the main floor, lodged beside Marian's pain.

Freya had meant to hurt the captain, at least prod and see what he felt. She had not intended to hurt sweet Marian, who was nothing but compassionate and genuinely kindhearted.

Perhaps she could easily leave Ewan to sleep and see to Marian. It was then Ewan staggered and began to slip from Freya's grasp.

***

Pain. Hot and brilliant as the sun. Indeed it even left dots of white dancing in Ewan's vision, as though he'd looked at the sky and stared into it.

He maintained his footing but allowed himself to be led to the room he shared with Freya.

He gritted his teeth. He needed to be strong. For her. For his mother. For all of them.

He was stronger than his pain.

“Ye should have said something.” Freya opened the door to their shared room and led him inside.

“I knew ye were speaking to the captain with purpose.” Ewan allowed himself to be guided onto the bed. The skin pulled around his wound and he hissed out a breath. “Had I known what ye intended to say, I would have said something.”

Freya pulled upright as if he'd struck her. “I dinna know she was right there.” She swallowed and furrowed her brow. “Let me look at yer bandage.” The gruffness of her voice did not mask the catch.

For all the fortitude and toughness she exuded, Freya - the famed viper of Edinburgh - was near tears.

She eased his leine over his head, and her gaze fell on his bandaged side. Her shoulders relaxed somewhat. “I dinna see any blood, so ye've no' reopened it, but I need to see how it's looking.”

She began to unwind the bandage with gentle hands, and he watched her face as she worked. Her focus fixed on her task and her chin set stubbornly, making the line of her jaw even sharper. Even more tempting to stroke again.

She'd been so silky soft under his touch. He hadn't been able to help himself while they were at tea. And it'd been so easy to do under the auspices of their feigned marriage.

“What happened?” he asked. “With Marian.”

She drew her attention to him, and she hesitated before finally answering. “Ye werena the only one whose family was hurt by the English.”

“Tell me. Ye saw what became of my home, but I dinna know what ye’ve endured at the hands of the English.”

Freya unwound it from his waist and rolled the bandage in her hands as she went. “There's no' much to tell. They knocked on the door and forced their way past our servants. They demanded all our jewels, which they were given. They said they'd leave, but they dinna.”

She pulled off the bandage from his waist, and the cold air of the room bathed the warmth of his skin.

“They killed our servants too.” Freya spoke in a flat voice, one he'd heard soldiers use the day after a grisly battle. “After the servants were dead, an officer pulled Marian outside and...” Her jaw tensed. “Ye know the rest of it.”

Her fingers gingerly patted the wound, her touch cool against the blazing heat of his skin there. He ground his teeth against the pain.