Page 21 of My Brave Highlander

Dirk sat on one side of her and her maid on the other.

"You hold that arm, Beitris, and I'll hold the one with the broken finger. You must remain perfectly still, m'lady."

"Will it hurt?" Her words were slurred.

"'Haps a wee bit, but I'm certain you're strong enough to handle it."

He held her arm and extended the injured hand to Rebbie. "Have a care now, Rebbie."

"I shall do my best to be gentle."

"You wouldn't even know he's an earl, would you?" Dirk asked, trying to distract her.

"He is… in truth?"

"Aye. Earl of Rebbinglen."

"I could tell he was so' sort o' laird." Her words blended together as if her tongue refused to form each individual word. "He has a gold ring and…"

While she was distracted, Rebbie took her swollen finger, straightened the bone and had it back in alignment in seconds.

Isobel gave a short scream and jerked, but Dirk held her arm firmly.

"Nay, you must hold still. Else you'll injure yourself worse."

Rebbie wrapped the thin strip of plaid around the splints and tied it into place.

"Ow, ow, ow!" She squeezed her eyes shut. The tears leaking out near broke Dirk's heart.

"I'm sorry, lass."

"You said 'twould only hurt a wee bit." She glared up at him through tears.

"You let it go too long before you had it set."

"'Twill be well soon," she mumbled in a near whisper. She snuggled beneath his mantle and turned her face against the plaid covering his chest. He could not help that his arm went around her shoulder. He wanted to pull her closer and comfort her, try to take away her pain. Even more, he yearned to pull her onto his lap and cradle her there until she stopped crying. He detested the tears glistening on her cheeks.

"The room is spinning," she whispered and latched her good hand onto his plaid.

"'Tis the whisky."

"I ne'er drink pure whisky. Da wouldn't let me drink it without water."

Dirk nodded. "But you need it now. The whisky will dull the pain and help you sleep."

"There now. All finished," Rebbie announced. "I predict 'twill be well within a month."

Drawing her hand close, she examined her splinted finger. "I thank you, sir… my laird."

"Rebbie will do." He stood and gave a brief bow.

"You need to eat, m'lady." Beitris stood and moved toward the fire pit.

"Not hungry." Isobel didn't move away from him and he was unwilling as of yet to push her away.

"Tell me who hurt you," Dirk said in a low tone, trying not to draw the attention of the others.

"I'd rather not."