breath as she did so. “Hurts, I ken, but keep still.” She tsked then continued, “I’m Nora, lad. Ye must be MacKerry.”
“Aidan,” he said, his voice oddly hoarse and gruff.
Nora raised her brow at him. “What do ye think o’ the laird?”
Lady Honor’s brow rose, then she started threading a needle.
He shifted his weight as he leaned against the wall. Most of his opinions he could never voice. They were either too personal or would appear too harsh.
“I think she’s an amadon , meself,” Nora confessed.
“Nora!” Lady Honor chastised.
Aidan suppressed a smile as his betrothed scoffed and glared at Nora.
“Och, Hope, ’tis very deep. I need more water to cleanse the wound.”
Laird MacAlister flinched as Lady Honor poked the needle through her skin. Deftly, she stitched the deep cut. The laird made nary a sound.
Aidan watched, then turned away as he began to feel sympathy, she was a braw lass, to be sure. He grudgingly respected her strength. Bollocks , no matter the pain etched sharply into the laird’s face, sympathy was for fools. And Aidan had learned by watching his da play the fool to his mother.
Instead of watching, he inspected the chamber. Large, most definitely the laird’s. Clean, with enough room for him and his betrothed. They certainly wouldn’t stumble over each other.
Aidan raked his fingers through his hair, not knowing what to do in the situation. “Do you spar often, Laird MacAlister?”
“Och, I mend her cuts more than the lads,” Lady Honor said then she gasped as Hope glared at her. “’Tis the truth of it.”
Hope turned toward him, her eyes narrowed as she watched him.
Annoyed, Nora threw him a disgruntled look. “Take a seat, lad. I need her still.”
“We’re betrothed. Call me Hope.”
Chapter 6
Hope.
Despite her grudging tone, he liked the sound of her name. The inspiration of it. He glanced down at the woman in the bed. Her mussed hair spread across the pillow in a deep amber wave. Her skin seemed a bit pallid, but smooth as it covered the graceful line of her jaw and high cheekbones.
A pulse beat at the base of her long neck in a fluttery movement. He clenched his hands, his fingers itching to trace the hollow at the apex where her neck joined her body. His gaze wandered further. A tear in the fabric revealed a linen chemise pulled tautly over a full breast. He imagined the creaminess of her skin and the rosy ripeness of the nipple peeking through the fabric.
A throat cleared. Aidan snapped his attention to Hope’s face. Her gaze was flushed with anger, she cocked a brow and said, “Now that you have sweet talked Lady Honor into releasing you, Nora will show you to your chamber. You’re in need of a bath.”
Embarrassed at his brashness and a little sheepish for being caught staring at her, Aidan ripped his gaze from the angry green of her eyes. He was certain thunderclouds raged in the dark depths as they pinned him with ire.
Lady Honor finished wrapping the wound and gathered her supplies. “I’ll have broth sent for the both of you.”
He turned to leave as Nora and Lady Honor came to his side to escort him. Aidan stopped and laid his hand upon Hope’s bed. “Soon, Hope. We’ll be sharing this chamber, soon.”
A smile tipped his lips as she leaned forward and practically growled, “On my terms, MacKerry. My terms.”
Hope grit her teeth as Aidan MacKerry left her chamber. His arrogant swagger incensed her further. If she wasn’t in such pain, she would have challenged him. Made sure he knew his place within the clan.
God in heaven, her shoulder hurt. Hot, searing pain radiated from the wound. Honor’s patient sewing was sure to diminish the scar, yet it would still stretch over the cup of her shoulder and would take too much time to heal.
There was too much to do. Too many to care for and certainly with MacKerry and the council, too many worries.
Hope shifted beneath the coverlet for a comfortable position. The large bed
“Aidan,” he said, his voice oddly hoarse and gruff.
Nora raised her brow at him. “What do ye think o’ the laird?”
Lady Honor’s brow rose, then she started threading a needle.
He shifted his weight as he leaned against the wall. Most of his opinions he could never voice. They were either too personal or would appear too harsh.
“I think she’s an amadon , meself,” Nora confessed.
“Nora!” Lady Honor chastised.
Aidan suppressed a smile as his betrothed scoffed and glared at Nora.
“Och, Hope, ’tis very deep. I need more water to cleanse the wound.”
Laird MacAlister flinched as Lady Honor poked the needle through her skin. Deftly, she stitched the deep cut. The laird made nary a sound.
Aidan watched, then turned away as he began to feel sympathy, she was a braw lass, to be sure. He grudgingly respected her strength. Bollocks , no matter the pain etched sharply into the laird’s face, sympathy was for fools. And Aidan had learned by watching his da play the fool to his mother.
Instead of watching, he inspected the chamber. Large, most definitely the laird’s. Clean, with enough room for him and his betrothed. They certainly wouldn’t stumble over each other.
Aidan raked his fingers through his hair, not knowing what to do in the situation. “Do you spar often, Laird MacAlister?”
“Och, I mend her cuts more than the lads,” Lady Honor said then she gasped as Hope glared at her. “’Tis the truth of it.”
Hope turned toward him, her eyes narrowed as she watched him.
Annoyed, Nora threw him a disgruntled look. “Take a seat, lad. I need her still.”
“We’re betrothed. Call me Hope.”
Chapter 6
Hope.
Despite her grudging tone, he liked the sound of her name. The inspiration of it. He glanced down at the woman in the bed. Her mussed hair spread across the pillow in a deep amber wave. Her skin seemed a bit pallid, but smooth as it covered the graceful line of her jaw and high cheekbones.
A pulse beat at the base of her long neck in a fluttery movement. He clenched his hands, his fingers itching to trace the hollow at the apex where her neck joined her body. His gaze wandered further. A tear in the fabric revealed a linen chemise pulled tautly over a full breast. He imagined the creaminess of her skin and the rosy ripeness of the nipple peeking through the fabric.
A throat cleared. Aidan snapped his attention to Hope’s face. Her gaze was flushed with anger, she cocked a brow and said, “Now that you have sweet talked Lady Honor into releasing you, Nora will show you to your chamber. You’re in need of a bath.”
Embarrassed at his brashness and a little sheepish for being caught staring at her, Aidan ripped his gaze from the angry green of her eyes. He was certain thunderclouds raged in the dark depths as they pinned him with ire.
Lady Honor finished wrapping the wound and gathered her supplies. “I’ll have broth sent for the both of you.”
He turned to leave as Nora and Lady Honor came to his side to escort him. Aidan stopped and laid his hand upon Hope’s bed. “Soon, Hope. We’ll be sharing this chamber, soon.”
A smile tipped his lips as she leaned forward and practically growled, “On my terms, MacKerry. My terms.”
Hope grit her teeth as Aidan MacKerry left her chamber. His arrogant swagger incensed her further. If she wasn’t in such pain, she would have challenged him. Made sure he knew his place within the clan.
God in heaven, her shoulder hurt. Hot, searing pain radiated from the wound. Honor’s patient sewing was sure to diminish the scar, yet it would still stretch over the cup of her shoulder and would take too much time to heal.
There was too much to do. Too many to care for and certainly with MacKerry and the council, too many worries.
Hope shifted beneath the coverlet for a comfortable position. The large bed
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