her red flannel underskirt to soak in the burn, she’d used one to cover his eyes, hoping it would soothe him and keep him from staring at her as she cleansed his wound. The latter hope was not for his sake but for hers. Aware that she would be hurting him, she knew she would do a better job if she need not keep seeing the pain in his eyes each time she touched his wound.
Now, however, she plucked the cloth from his eyes, waited until he opened them and focused on her, and then raised her eyebrows and said, “My people?”
To her surprise, he smiled, just slightly. But it was enough to tell her that he had a nice smile and that her tone had tickled his sense of humor.
“Do you dare to laugh at me?” she demanded.
“Nay, lass, I would not laugh at such a kind benefactress. I am still wondering if your people are human or otherwise. Sithee, although you disclaim being a wood sprite, I have heard tales of wee folk in this area.”
“I am human,” she said. “Lie still now. Your wound is trying to clot, but I must rinse these cloths, and if you move too much, you’ll start leaking again.”
“Tell me first who your people are,” he said as she stood. His voice was stronger, and his words came as a command from a man accustomed to obedience.
Catriona eyed him speculatively. “Do you not know where you are?”
“I am in Clan Chattan territory, in Strathspey, I think. But Clan Chattan boasts vast lands and numerous clans within it—six, I think, at last count.”
“All controlled by one man,” she said.
“The Mackintosh is chief of the whole confederation, aye,” he said, almost nodding. She saw him remember her warning about that and catch himself.
Satisfied, she said, “That’s right, although we call him our captain, to show that he is more powerful than other clan chiefs in our confederation.” Moving swiftly back to the burn, she knelt and rinsed the bloody cloth in the churning, icy water. Then she dipped the other one, wrung them both out, and returned to him.
As she approached, she saw Boreas go into some bushes a short way beyond the man’s head, sniffing the air. The dog pushed its snout into low, dense shrubbery, plucked an arrow from it, and trotted back to her with it in its mouth.
Taking the arrow, Catriona said, “I think Boreas has found the cause of your injury, sir. If so, I can tell you that this arrow came from no Clan Chattan bow.”
“Nor any Lochaber one,” he muttered.
“Are you from Lochaber then?”
Cursing himself for the slip, Fin said, “I grew up on the west side of the Great Glen. But have spent little time there of late. Do you ken aught else of this arrow?”
“Nay, but I do wish that Ivor were here,” she said.
“Ivor?” He raised his left eyebrow, winced, and said ruefully, “I shall have to remember for a time not to express my feelings with facial movements.”
Chuckling, deciding she liked the melodic sound of his voice, she said, “Ivor is the younger of my two brothers. He is also the finest archer in Scotland, so he knows the fletching of most Highland clans and taught me what little I know. But he, my father, and my brother James are in the Borders with the Lord of the North.”
“What makes you think this Ivor is the finest archer in the land?” he asked. “Scotland boasts many fine archers. I’m deft with a bow and arrow myself.”
“No doubt you are. I shoot well, too, come to that. But Ivor is the best.”
“I know a chap who can beat anything that your Ivor might do,” he said.
“No such person exists,” she said confidently as she slipped the arrow under the linked girdle that kilted up her skirts. Then, kneeling again, she added, “Now, let me finish cleaning your wound. The only thing that I might bandage it with is a strip of my underskirt. But I fear that the flannel would chafe it and make it bleed more.”
“I don’t need a bandage,” he said. “I heal quickly.”
“See, you do brag, like any man. How much farther must you go?”
“A day’s walk, mayhap two.”
“Then you should come home with me and rest overnight. That gash will open again, because it does need bandaging and may even require a stitch or two.”
His grimace revealed strong reluctance, either to stitches or to her invitation.