The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,99
up here with a pair of bloody useless footmen!”
When movement hastened on the floors below, he hurried back to Emma’s side. Carefully, he removed her bonnet and inspected her forehead. “Can you tell me what happened?”
As Emma’s tears began to ebb, she drew in a few deep breaths. “I wanted to see the layout of the chamber.”
“Without your cane?”
“I had Albert, but I dropped the lead in frustration and tried to retrace my steps.”
Ciar brushed away a lock of her hair. “And you fell?”
“Aye, flat on my face. Ended up with a bloody nose and feeling hopeless…and useless…and lost!”
He clenched his fist. Bless it, he never should have left her alone with so many obstacles carelessly tossed into the chamber. “But what was it you said about them hating you? Who are they?”
Emma shook her head and curled forward. “I-I heard the servants’ whispers when we arrived. They fear me, just like Robert said everyone outside of our kin would do. I ken they think I’m a demon.”
Sitting, he surrounded her with his arms, rubbing a hand up and down her spine. “Och, nay, lass. They haven’t had a chance to come to know you is all. I tell ye true here and now, every servant in this castle will come to adore you as I do.” He braced his hands on her shoulders and whispered in her ear. “You are the most astounding, selfless, and loveable woman I have ever met.”
Behind him, the hinges of the door screeched, and Livingstone clambered inside. “Forgive me. I was down at the stables.” As his gaze shifted to Emma, his eyes popped wide. “God’s bones, what happened?”
“’Tis my fault. I left Her Ladyship without helping her grow accustomed to her new bedchamber.” Ciar gestured to the trunks. “Worse, some idiots saw fit to carelessly strew her things about as if someone else would tidy the mess.”
“I’ll have that fixed straightaway,” said Livingstone, ushering in a pair of footmen. “Shall we move these to the garderobe?”
“Please,” Ciar replied, taking Emma’s hand. “Might I suggest they take your harps to the lady’s solar, or would you prefer them here?”
A flustered, hapless expression crossed her face. “I have no idea. They were in the music room at Moriston Hall.”
“Perhaps we can turn your solar into a music room. It is yours for your own particular use.”
“Very well. The solar should be fine at least for the time being.”
“Livingstone, where is the ewer of water?”
“Here,” said Betty from the corridor.
“’Tis about time you appeared,” Ciar groused, hopping to his feet while the footmen picked up the first trunk. “Pour it into the bowl.”
“Oh, my heavens, my lady!”
“I fell,” said Emma, tapping her fingers over her face. “I suffered a bloody nose is all. Goodness, I must look a fright.”
The maid quickly poured the water and doused a cloth. “I am so sorry I wasn’t here. I thought His Lairdship—”
Ciar took the cloth from Betty’s hand. “I’ll tend my wife. You set to washing the floor and finding Her Ladyship a clean gown as well as her cane.”
“Very well. Put that down, please,” she said, stopping the footmen and then opening the trunk. “Here is her walking stick. I put it on top because I thought she might need it straightaway.”
“Clearly she did.” Ciar snatched the piece of hickory and set it across the foot of the bed.
Betty continued on with the footmen while he tapped Emma’s arm. “I’m going to clean your face. Are you ready?”
Her half-cast eyes opened for the slightest of moments. “Is it awful?”
He cleaned one side. “There might be a bit of bruising, but once we cleanse the blood away, you’ll be as bonny as ever.”
She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Bruising?”
“’Tisn’t bad, lass, and bruises fade.” He gently ran the cloth under her nose. “You gave me a fright, though. When I first saw you I thought you’d been bludgeoned.”
“I’m ever so clumsy.” She forlornly shook her head. “Leave it to me to be bludgeoned by the floor.”
“Nay, you are as graceful as a swan.” Ciar swiped away the blood across her brow. “Mark me, I will have a word with the serving staff before this day ends. There is no excuse for the careless way your crates and portmanteaus were strewn about.”
Emma gripped his wrist. “I ken they were afraid to touch my things for the fear of it.”
“Balderdash.” Ciar finished his work and rocked back. She’d most likely have two black eyes, but he’d ensure not a soul