Page 27 of Highlander’s Ancient Vengeance

“How is Malle?” he asked anxiously. “Is she badly injured?”

“Naw, M’laird,” Jessie replied, “dinnae fash yersel’. She has a fine big bump on the heid, cuts an’ grazes everywhere, bit she willnae die. She should rest.”

“May I see her?” he pleaded.

Jessie sighed. “I cannae stop ye but the quickest thing tae cure the lass is rest.”

“What about love?” he asked, smiling mischievously.

“I knew it!” Jessie laughed. “I knew ye were smitten!”

“But she is a MacEwan, and I am a Dunbar,” he sighed.

“Naw, M’laird,”—Jessie shook her head firmly—“you are a man an’ she is a wummin. Like Adam an’ Eve.”

He smiled at her. “I hated her the first time I saw her.” He laughed. “I have never met such a ball of fire before, and she is so small. I just want to look after her.”

“Then you are a good man, young master,” Jessie replied. “An’ that young wummin will be a good wife. I can aye tell.”

“You are a grand lady, Jessie,” he remarked, smiling. “Now I am going to see my beloved.”

Yer beloved is a lucky young lassie, Jessie thought as she watched him limping out.

Malle was asleep, her cheek pillowed on her hands, when Craig did his best to creep into her room. She was smiling a little, as if dreaming about something pleasant, and he watched her pale countenance, with its pattern of bruises and scratches, wishing he could take them away.

It was such a beautiful face, he thought, with her long dark lashes, full lips, and sweeping dark eyebrows, and he had the urge to put his head down on the pillow to be closer to her, but he resisted the impulse in case he woke her up. He contented himself with stroking her cheek with his fingertips and whispering endearments to her.

He had been there for no more than a few minutes before her eyelids fluttered open and her eyes looked straight into his.

“Good morning,” he murmured, kissing her softly.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked, smiling at him sleepily. “Are you really here?”

“Remember our adventure yesterday?” he reminded her. “This is my home, and you are here to heal.”

She passed her hand over her eyes. “The sword fight—oh, God, Craig. That was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. His body?”

“I have sent some men out to collect it, and Father Brown will bury it,” he replied. “And are you still going to marry me?”

She ran her hand down his face, loving the scratchy texture of his beard. “I would never marry anyone else but you,” she whispered. “On one condition.”

At once he was overcome with anxiety. “Anything, my love.”

“You must trim your beard!” she said sternly, and they both began to laugh.

He kissed her hand. “For you, I would shave off every hair on my head,” he said fondly. “Consider it done!”

Malle sighed with relief, and just at that moment her parents arrived. Margaret dashed over to see her daughter, then flung her arms around her and hugged her tightly. Malle groaned with pain as her bruised ribs were pressed against her mother’s body. Margaret, hearing this, gave a shocked gasp and let her go.

“Look at you, Malle!” she cried. “Did you not have enough injuries without adding more?”

“I’m fine, Mammy,” she replied wearily. “Please do not fuss.”

Kenneth came to lean over and kiss her. “Did Arthur do this to my daughter?” he growled. “I am going to do something about that creature!”

“No, Paw!” She sounded angry. “Another horse came out in front of him and he reared just enough to throw me off. It was not his fault.”

“How are you feeling?” Margaret asked anxiously.