Chapter 10
“He’s no’dead.”
At Nicola’s announcement, Leanna exhaled and sank back on her pillows, closing her swollen and sore eyes on a grateful prayer.
“Thank ye,” she whispered, knowing her sister hadn’t been required to come relay the good news.
The healer’s lips thinned as she looked around Leanna’s small room, taking in the untouched meal, the piles of discarded clothing, and the skins in front of the window, blocking out the afternoon sunlight.
But Leanna didn’t care. In the day and a half since she’d shot Kenneth—and dear God in Heaven, could she ever forgive herself for that?—she’d been wallowing. Wallowing in what exactly was less clear, but Leanna assumed she was due a good wallow.
The guilt was eating her from the inside, and she’d only been able to drag herself away from this bed—and her tears—for the most basic of necessities.
In fact, thinking of what she’d done, and the horrible words she’d said to Kenneth prior to the “little accident”—as he’d called it when she helped him limp to the sick room—filled her eyes with tears again.
With a sigh, Nicola stepped into the room and picked her way around the piles of clothes. “Why the man wants to marry ye is beyond me. Ye’re a terrible housekeeper.”
“I’m terrible at everything.” Leanna’s voice was a pitiful whisper, as she tucked her head back against her tear-stained pillow. “I’m no’ surprised he told ye of our conversation. He must be so sorry he ever came to Oliphant Castle.”
She’d been so angry at Kenneth when he’d told her he was a laird. The fact he’d hidden his real name hadn’t been a surprise; she’d assumed he’d get around to telling her before too long. But he was Laird McClure! And he’d wanted to marry her, which would make her a lady. That had been a nasty surprise, and she’d responded without thinking her words through.
Nae surprise there. Ye’ve always been impulsive, and Kenneth kens that.
Aye, and now he kenned she was a terrible shot as well.
His swearing, as she’d all but dragged him to the castle, while repeatedly apologizing, had told her he would survive. The arrow had lodged in the fleshy part of his thigh, and the blood which had dripped down his leg had made her sick.
Aye, he’d live, but her tears had been because there was no way he’d want to marry her now.
And in the last day and a half, Leanna had realized she very much wanted to marry him, even if he was a laird, and even if she’d have to become a lady. She’d been lying there, in between bouts of tears, bargaining with St. Melissa to intercede on Kenneth’s behalf. Leanna had made all sorts of promises: attempts to learn sewing, curbing her enthusiasm, no more playing jokes on Mother…anything, if only Kenneth would forgive her for her mistake.
“Lee…” Nicola used her old childhood nickname as she sat down on the bed behind Leanna’s rump. “Ye’re no’ terrible at everything. But as yer resident healer, until I can finish training Clary, I’d appreciate it if ye’d refrain from archery practice for a bit.”
It was likely meant to be funny, but Leanna didn’t have the energy to even glare over her shoulder. But then her sister sighed and dropped a hand to Leanna’s back. She began to rub in small circles, and when she spoke, it wasn’t as a healer, but as a big sister.
“Kenneth isnae angry at ye, Leanna,” she said softly. “And he isnae sorry he came here to Oliphant Castle to pursue ye.”
Leanna sniffed. “He was looking for his friend,” she muttered, indistinctly against the pillow.
“Aye, but he found ye. He told me he asked ye to marry him.”
Leanna imagined Kenneth delirious from pain and in the throes of some medicine Nicola has concocted, mumbling out the ridiculous story of her reaction to his proposal.
“I shot him,” she mumbled.
Nicola’s gentle backrub didn’t cease. “Aye, ye did. But ‘twas a paltry wound, and his friend Brodie teased him non-stop as I removed the arrow.”
Leanna had banished herself from the sickroom in tears the previous day, and part of her was jealous to realize her sister had seen so much of Kenneth’s body before even she had…but another part latched on to Nicola’s words about Brodie.
Sniffing, she pushed herself upright, knocking Nicola’s hand away. “Brodie is awake?”
“Aye, and likely going stir-crazy in the sickroom because I’ll no’ let him try to put weight on his leg yet. Because his wound is most definitely no’ paltry.”
Paltry, hah.
She’d shot Kenneth. With an arrow. That wasn’t paltry. Look at Brodie; if he’d been shot with an arrow a few inches lower, he might never have walked again! She’d almost done that to poor, wonderful Kenneth!
Her sister sighed again. “Leanna, Kenneth wants to marry ye. He kens ye and kens yer…enthusiasm for life. I think ‘tis what he likes about ye.” She narrowed her eyes at Leanna. “We’ve had enough excitement around here for the last fortnight: bandits and skeletons and arrows, oh my! So, I for one, will be glad when things quiet down, and if that means marrying ye off to Kenneth and shipping ye off to… Where does he live?”