“Your wrist!” Rainne looked over at Joe. “Check his wrist. It was badly sprained before the blasts sent us flying.”
Alastair felt Joe gently pull back his sleeve.
“Yeah, it’s broken now.” Joe glared at Alastair. “Why didn’t you mention it?”
“I forgot,” Alastair said his eyes on Rainne.
Joe started muttering something about insane Scottish men, while he went to fetch something to splint Alastair’s wrist.
“This just goes to prove what I’ve been saying all along,” Margaret said. “There are no tougher men in the world than the Scots.”
“Aye,” Shona said. “The proof is in the wearing of kilts in winter. Takes a real man to do that.”
Rainne started to giggle, and Alastair felt his heart melt. He held on tight to his woman.
“Are you really okay?” he asked Rainne.
She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. “I might have a teeny, tiny concussion. I feel a little bit nauseous. Apart from that, I just feel weak. I want to get warm and stay warm for the next sixty years.”
Alastair was grateful when the deep breath he took didn’t send him into agony. “I can help with that,” he said.
Rainne’s eyes shot to his and he watched her swallow several times. Everyone around them fell silent. Alastair hated being the centre of attention, but he didn’t want to break eye contact with Rainbow long enough to demand privacy.
“Alastair,” she whispered. “You’re injured. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Joe knelt at Alastair’s other side and started bandaging up his wrist.
“This will hold it ‘til the doc gets here,” Joe said.
“Joe,” Margaret said. “Shut up, they’re being romantic.”
Alastair couldn’t help but smile. He was lying on his back, in the middle of a torn-up castle, with a plastic straw sticking out of his side, and Margaret was worried about romance. Now he knew where Kirsty got her flair for the dramatic.
“We’ll talk about this when you’re better.” Rainne’s cheeks flushed under the attention.
“I think we should talk about it now.” Alastair bit back a curse as Joe was less than gentle with his wrist.
“Aye, now is a good time,” Margaret said.
Rainne glanced at the woman before shaking her head.
“Later,” she told Alastair. “We’ll talk when you know what you’re saying.”
Alastair wanted to object, but he held his tongue. What he wanted to say to Rainne was better said in private. In a room with a bed. A nice, big, soft bed. He smiled at his girl as his eyes slowly closed.
27
* Lake *
The castle was in chaos. There were people everywhere. Lake was pleased to note that his friends had taken Matt’s orders to heart and hadn’t inflicted any life-threatening injuries on the fools who’d assaulted them. That didn’t mean the guys weren’t suffering. He almost smiled when he realised the women of Knit Or Die had forgone their usual caring attitudes and were administering first aid without dealing out pain meds.
“I know it hurts,” he heard Shona say as he passed her in the kitchen. “But that’s what you get for attacking my friends. You’re a big tough guy, right? If you’re tough enough to attack a bunch of unarmed women, you’re tough enough to deal with this.”
He scanned the dining room as he moved through it, making sure every captive was secured. There was nothing to do but guard the men until the police from Fort William took them off their hands.
“This is why there should be more cops in town,” Matt grumbled at his side. “Things like this keep happening. This town is too much for one man.” He glared at Lake. “Although it never used to be until you foreigners started turning up. I blame you for all this. You started the trend.”
“As Shona said, you’re a big tough guy, suck it up.” Lake almost smiled at Matt’s silent, one-fingered reply.