Savage Marriage

Chapter Eight

Several days later

Joanna had become good friends with Aílis. Joanna was thankful for the companionship beyond her brute of a husband. Aílis and her sat in Barclay's home watching her son play. A large wolf hound sniffed the small boy. The boy would tumble backwards laughing as the hound tickled him with his wet nose. Joanna absolutely loved Aílis's son.

"How are things with Kincaid?" Aílis asked. Joanna didn't want to talk much about it.

"There is not much to say about Kincaid," she said.

Aílis sat down exit to Joanna, "I know he is acting a scoundrel, but believe me Kincaid is a good man. He would never wish to harm you."

Joanna found his good side every now and then. He would often leave her breakfast or let her ride her horse. What she found most shocking though was she would catch herself actually laughing along with Kincaid. They would have real conversations every now and then. The conversation would end though when his arrogance reappeared.

"I have to admit he has been more of a.... decent person lately," Joanna said.

"Perhaps he's making an effort," Aílis suggested.

Joanna shrugged. She wasn't sure. It was like he was two completely different men. She would sometimes see the gentleman in him, and then the arrogant scoundrel would return. It was almost maddening. Suddenly Joanna heard the little boy's giggles become silent. The little one lay on the floor leaning against the hound. "I think it best I leave," Joanna said. She stood from the chair with cloak in hand and left the quiet home. She quickly made her way to Kincaid's home to escape the cold. She came to the door, but before she opened it she heard something. "OUCH!" someone yelled. Suddenly the door opened and Barclay stepped out. He stared at her then looked over his shoulder at someone in the room. "I'll leave you to him," he said. He stepped around her and made his way to the village. Joanna walked in and closed the door. The room was dark for the fire wasn't lit. She suddenly saw a figure sitting in a chair. It was Kincaid. His right leg was stretched out and stiff.

"Is everything alright?" she asked hesitantly.

"Everything is fine," he said. She heard pain in his voice.

She came to his side, and he put a hand up to stop her. He grabbed her arm. She felt how cold his fingers were. "You are frozen solid," she said. She hurried outside and gathered wood and tender. She hurried inside and laid the wood into the pit. Joanna found on a shelf flint and quickly began to light the fire. The tender quickly caught, and the wood began to burn. As more and more light began to flood the room Kincaid's figure became more and more visible. What she saw was unbelievable. Stuck in Kincaid's stiff leg was a broken arrow. The shaft of the arrow had been broken roughly, and the arrow head was buried into Kincaid's thigh. "You're hurt," she exclaimed.

"It's nothing, love. Just a scrape," he said.

"Scrape my ass," she said.

Kincaid stared at her in astonishment. Never before had he heard this young thing curse. "Let me help you," she said moving on. "I don't need your help," he said. He grabbed the arrow shaft and began to pull. He hissed as the arrow didn't move. Joanna lunged forward and grabbed his hand. She pried his fingers off the arrow. "Unless you wish to lose much blood and faint I suggest you let me help," she said.

"Why should I let you? You know nothing of these injuries," he said.

"That is where you are wrong, Chieftain. I helped the soldiers that returned from battle with injuries," she said.

She stood up and went to the fire and lifted a pot onto it. She fetched water from outside and poured it into the small pot. As she waited for the water to boil she looked for Kincaid's belt. When she found it hanging on a chair she pulled the knife out of it.
"Hold on there, love," he said becoming tense. Joanna rolled her eyes. She laid furs out on the ground. "I need you to lay down," she said. Kincaid hesitated. Finally he struggled to stand up. Joanna came to his aid and helped him up. As she grabbed hold of his body, she felt his muscles under her hand. She shook the sensations and feelings off knowing now wasn't the time. Finally Kincaid had hobbled over to the fire and, with Joanna's help, he sat down then laid down. With the knife Joanna began her work. She began to just ever so slightly open the cut a little more. Kincaid hissed and gripped the furs under his hands at the pain.

"How did this happen?" she asked.

He hissed. "I rode off to the border and was attacked by a brave ban of farmers," Kincaid said through gritted teeth.

"What did they want?" she asked.

Joanna yanked on the arrow and Kincaid yelled. Joanna saw the arrow head glisten with his blood. She set the arrow down and saw the water boiling. With a rag she held the hand and pulled the pot off. She let it cool for some time. When the water was warm she dipped a rag into the water. She sat on her knees next to Kincaid and began to clean the wound. He hissed more and more.

"You," he said. She stopped.

"What?" she asked.

"The farmers that attacked me. They wanted you," he said.

She didn't know how to respond. She continued to clean his wound. They were quiet for some time.

"So you let farmers shoot an arrow into your leg?" she asked.

Kincaid laughed, "They caught me off guard."

"I'm sure," Joanna said sarcastically.

They both laughed. Joanna set the bloody rag aside and found some dry cloth. She began to wrap it around his leg. Instantly blood began to stain the material. Kincaid propped himself up on his elbows and watched her delicate hands wrap his wound. He watched her tie it off and leave it be.

"We can't keep it like that for long. I'll have to go to the Seer to find some herbs to cleanse it more," Joanna said.

Kincaid suppressed a smile when she said we. For once Kincaid could see past the anger of this woman. He could truly see her. He saw she was kind and caring not just angry. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.