and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I understand now, my sister, the connection ye spoke of. The need. The love. The fear.” He patted her hand again, then released it. “I never imagined I could feel what I do for the woman in that bed. If I ever lost her…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, not daring to speak the words aloud and challenge fate.
Catriona smiled. “Aye, dear brother. I see it in yer eyes.” She turned and motioned for Jenny to guide Lady Mercy. “Come, my sisters,” she said quietly. “Let us leave these two in peace for a while.”
Sutherland waited beside the door until the three women filed out, then closed it softly behind them. He fed the fire and stirred the coals, all the while glancing over at Sorcha to ensure his movements didn’t wake her. Settling down in the chair at her bedside, he relaxed more than he had since the accident. Her left arm was bandaged to her body over the top of her shift to hold it in place at her shoulder. Her right rested atop the covers, purplish and red bruising already mottling her fair skin at the knuckles and elbow. He knew it would get worse before it got better. Sometimes bruises took days to surface.
Her breathing was steady and peaceful, even though he knew her battered ribs had been tightly bound. The healthy tint to her cheeks, even with the discolored bruising along her jawline, brought him solace, too. She had fallen hard, but she would heal.
“Thank God,” he whispered, then tensed as her dark lashes twitched atop her cheeks. He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t awakened her. A glance at the bedside table assured him the herb-laced whiskey and honey was at the ready should he need them.
Her eyelids fluttered open. She honed in on him and smiled. “I knew ye wouldna leave me,” she whispered weakly.
“Never,” he promised. Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss to her forehead and tenderly caressed her arm. “Ye are my world, mo ghràdh. My verra reason for breathing.”
Her contented smile remained, but her eyes closed again. “I dreamt the verra best dream,” she said in a voice as soft as a feather.
“Tell me,” he gently encouraged, wondering what the whisky and herbs had whispered to her mind.
“Four sons and five daughters,” she mumbled with a drowsy rubbing of her nose. She attempted a deeper inhale, flinched with the pain of it, then settled once more into the pillows. “All with Mama’s golden hair. Nearly white-headed, the littlest ones were. Like a troupe of wee angels tumbling and playing on the moss beneath the great oak in the garden.” A soft laugh escaped her as her smile returned. “Stairsteps in height. Looked to be just a year or two apart. Nine babies all in a row. Heaven help us, my husband.”
Nine bairns? Heaven help them indeed. Sutherland kissed her forehead again. “Go back to sleep, dear one. Dream more of these precious babies, and how we shall raise them to be the finest of lads and lassies.”
“Aye,” she whispered, tilting her head deeper into the pillow. Her breathing quickly settled back into the sweet rhythm of one at peace with her world.
Sutherland laid his head on the bed beside her and closed his eyes, one hand resting on her arm. Maybe, if he stayed like this a while, he’d see her wondrous dream, too.
*
“Alexander and Graham didna wish to leave,” Magnus said. They stood atop the skirting wall, watching the riders and wagon grow smaller and smaller as they made their way across the glen. “Ye’ll always be the baby to them.” He huffed out a rare laugh. “The runt of the litter.”
Standing at least a head taller than most men and twice an average man’s breadth, Sutherland hardly considered himself a runt. “We can handle this chore. Ye and I. The two of us can end this devilry we shouldha ended long before now. Sometimes fewer warriors assigned to an attack are more prosperous to the outcome of the battle.”
“Have all in the stables been made to know which wagon ye plan to take tomorrow?”
“Aye. Our evil-doer canna miss it. It’s being loaded now, right in the middle of the center aisle. The chief’s watching it until we take our posts. Right in front of the loft. Ye can watch it from above, and I can stand guard from the tool shed down below. We willna miss the bastard this time when he