Page 10 of A Flawed Scotsman

Chapter Four

Thankfully, the pain had subsided, partly due to the vile liquid the healer had forced down her throat. Esme’s hands shook as she lifted the light bedcover to look at her bandaged body.

Alone in the room, she struggled to remain awake. The healer had gone to make another concoction for her to take and the maid was sent to fetch water and food.

The infernal heat that took over seemed to come and go in torturous waves. Never in her life had she felt as if she were on the brink of death as she did at the moment. She moaned more out of desperation than pain.

It was terrifying to be alone. Why had her mother not come to see her yet?

The door opened and her father entered. His face was etched with worry. “The healer told me ye’ve been awake. Ye should sleep and rest.”

She closed her eyes, not sure of her ability to speak clearly. “Mother?”

“Resting. She was too upset, and the healer thought it best for her to go to the bedchamber for a bit.”

Esme didn’t recall her mother being there but, then again, she’d been in and out of consciousness since arriving home.

“I need ye to concentrate,” her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Do ye remember who did this?”

It was then Esme notice the other man in the room. He was larger than most men, his face tanned by the sun, broad-shouldered, with a thickly muscled neck. It was the man who’d rescued her. At the moment, she could not recall his name.

“Esme?” her father prompted. “It is very important for me to know who did this.”

Through the fog of her mind, she saw foliage move, arrows plunge into her body, her clothes becoming red with blood. The pain, the voices…had they said something?

“Did ye see them?” It was her rescuer who asked.

“I am not sure.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I had to have seen them. Why do I not remember?”

She met the clear hazel gaze becoming lost the depths of the man’s eyes. Had she seen his eyes before? Her own eyes drooped from the effects of the tonic she’d drank.

At hearing the man’s voice, she opened them.

“I found ye next to a rock. Ye’d made a shelter for yerself.”

“I remember,” Esme said, looking at him again. “Thank ye for tending to my injuries.”

“Esme,” her father said, getting her attention. “Did ye not see who injured ye?”

A vision of men running away formed. It was hard to say how many. She concentrated but a pang of pain shot through her, taking with it any other thought. “I do not think I saw their faces.” She panted the words out.

“Tis best we let her rest,” the healer said, rushing in with a tray. “She is feverish and not thinking clearly. Once it lessens, it will be easier for her.”

Esme wanted to protest the stranger leaving. She looked from her father to him. “Can he stay for a moment?”

Her father gave her a strange look, but then nodded. “Aye, of course. The healer will remain here as well.”

Despite the pain, Esme wanted to chuckle. As if a handsome man like the one before her would find her the least bit worth of seduction in her condition. Esme was positive that she looked a fright.

Once her father left, the man lowered to a chair next to the bed. “I will venture to guess ye will recover fully.”

Esme grimaced when it felt as if a part of her insides tore. “Tell that to my body. It is contradicting ye at the moment.” A moan escaped when the pain increased.

“Who are ye? Why are ye here?”

“Ruari Ross. I came to speak to yer father about an alliance between our clans,” the man said. “I was sent by my cousin and laird, Malcolm Ross.”

His deep timbre distracted her from the pain for the moment. “Alliance?”