Over the Highland Mountains

Chapter 5 • Wedding Night

The rambunctious crowd, led by her father, brother, Keeva and her brothers, and Alasdair's three men, followed them all the way to her chamber doors. Alasdair carried her inside and kicked the door shut with his foot behind them.

They banged on the door playfully as the group were cheering and laughing but soon the noise on the other side of the door quieted down as people left them to their business.

Their business.

Lily stiffened at the thought and avoided Alasdair's gaze as he placed her gently on the bed.

It would have been daunting enough on its own, but now she had to contend with a pounding headache as well. She must've hit her head when she and that man fell off the horse.

"How are ye feeling, Lily? Is yer head bothering ye?" She looked up to see him on his knees in front of her, peering into her eyes with concern. His right hand rested on her elbow and the other on the bed on the other side of her, effectively boxing her in.

"Oh, um, aye," she admitted, lowering the hand she didn't even realise was rubbing her temples, "'Tis only a headache, 'twill pass."

Alasdair's hazel-green eyes swept over her face and paused for a moment on her lips before darting back to her eyes. His gaze became intense and Lily felt her heart picking up its pace. He slowly raised left hand and took his time tracing her hairline and tucking her escaped strands behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her neck and cheek when his steamy expression abruptly changed one of confusion and a touch of anger as his eyes looked towards his hand. His other hand came up to turn her face to the side and slanted up so that her ear was towards him, while his left was gingerly brushing some more of her hair further back.

He released her with a huffed growl, shooting to his feet he started searching the chests in the chamber.

"What's wrong?"

Lily reached up and felt what it was before he answered stiffly, "Ye're bleeding."

"'Twould explain the headache," she mused, "What are ye looking fer?"

"Do ye have any linens about ye don't mind getting blood on?"

"No' in this room, but I can call a servant -"

"Nay, no need," Alasdair helped her to her feet and guided her towards the fireplace where her table and chairs stood. Once she was seated, he made quick work of pulling back the furs and stripping the wool-stuffed mattress of its sheet. He joined her again, kneeling by her, and pressed the scrunched up sheet against her head with his other hand stabilising her neck. Lily tried not to wince, but his pressure was firm - just like it needed to be, she noticed.

"It's a wonder no one noticed this earlier," he muttered grimly.

"Weel, the wound is in my dark hair and 'tis dark outside," she pointed out quietly as she studied his features again. He was so close she could make out another faint scar near his hairline.

It did feel a bit odd to be this side of an injury. Lily was used to being the one with the healing knowledge and caring for others, she couldn't remember the last time someone had healed her, not since her mother passed, and especially not by someone of Alasdair's reputation.

"Thank ye," Lily started, breaking the silence, "Fer, um, fer coming fer me and caring fer me." His solemn nod and smile hardly registered in her mind as she continued before being able to stop herself, "Ye ken, fer a man with yer reputation, ye are surprisingly gentle."

"Ye ken of my reputation, then," he stated, almost disappointedly.

"I believe all of Scotland kens of your reputation."