Over the Highland Mountains

Chapter 7 • Over the Highland Mountains

The sun was low in the sky by the time all their tents were set up and some dinner was eaten. Lily spotted Alasdair untying some bundles from his horse, the muscles in his arms and back tensing and relaxing with the movements.

She sighed.

She really was blessed to have such a handsome man for her husband. And not only was he not sore on the eyes, he was very thoughtful and attentive to her, and certainly protective, if today's events were anything to go by. As she was observing him, Lily noticed blood on his sleeve, reminding her he received a strike against his head too. Her heart burst with thankfulness as she realised he received these injuries protecting her, along with a pang of guilt as she remembered that she hadn't even thanked him yet.

Her eyes followed him as Alasdair headed over to the fire and sat down, not even giving his bloody sleeve a second thought.

Was Alasdair like his men and not even going to bother to treat his injuries? Was it not bad? Why wasn't he cleaning it up?

She made her way over to him, grabbing a pail of water and clutching her medicinal bag as she went.

"Lily,"Alasdair's face lit up with a smile as he saw her coming, "How are ye feeling now?"

"Much better," she answered sincerely, "Thanks to ye."

They were silent for a moment, considering each other. In that moment, they shared a common feeling of relieved thankfulness that they other was not very much harmed. Lily wasn't completely sure how she felt about this ferocious Highland warrior, but she was now sure that he would never let any harm befall her if it was within his power to stop.

Alasdair was the first to speak.

"What are ye doing with that?" he nodded to the pail of water.

"Oh, 'tis fer ye, fer yer injuries," she told him, but when he went to thank her and take it from her, she quickly added, "Nay, I'll do it."

Alasdair didn't protest but looked pleasantly surprised and gestured for her to do so. Lily set down her pail and as she pulled a clean rag out of her medicinal bag and dipped it in the water, she murmured, "I may not ken how to fight, but I ken how to heal."

Lily got busy with her work. First, she tended to his head wound. There was only a wee cut on the swelling temple, but Lily knew well the prevalence of infection and decided it needed to be cleaned. Gripping his chin with the confidence she always tended patients with, she dabbed the wet rag on it, allowing the coolness to sooth what she knew to be throbbing pain. After she was satisfied it was clean, she moved on to his shoulder. Lily tried looking through the cut sleeve, but couldn't see with all the blood.

"I'm going to roll yer sleeve up," Lily informed him as she dropped the rag in the pail, "I can no' see the wound through this cut."

Thankful for the generous material, Lily made quick work of rolling it to above the wound, revealing a very muscular arm, defined by all the training and warfare, with veins popping out in the most distracting manner.

"Is it that bad?" at his silky voice, Lily's cheeks warmed as she realised she had been staring. He wore an amused, knowing look when she glanced up at him. Lily only answered by clearing her throat, wringing the water out of the rag, and cleaning this wound.

The cut was quite long and deeper than Lily would have liked. She dug through her bag once again for a needle and thread. This time when she looked up at him, the firelight revealed a grim expression.

"Ye need stitches."

"Go on then, lass."

"Would ye turn a bit more toward the fire? I need more light."