Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
He strode toward her, his voice sharp and strong, carrying out across the village. “You clumsy fool.”
He caught her elbow to lift her, his grip firm, though his touch was not rough enough to bruise. His gaze went to her hand, now red and already beginning to blister. Something flickered briefly in his eyes.
Concern?
But it vanished too quickly for Esme to be sure.
With a cold command, he raised his voice again. “Fetch the healer to the keep. NOW!”
A young boy bolted away at the order.
Esme lowered her head, her injured hand cradled against her chest, willing the tears back.
The next thing she knew she was swept off her feet and into his powerful arms. She stared at him, shocked, her mouth hanging open.
“Not a word, wife. Not a word,” he warned and marched through the village with her cradled in his arms.
CHAPTER 3
By the time they reached the keep, Esme’s hand throbbed with every heartbeat. She expected Torrance to leave her at the door, to pass her off to a servant without a second glance. Instead, he carried her to a table by the hearth and sat her down on a bench. Then he slipped her cloak off her shoulders and tossed it on a nearby table.
“Let me see your hand,” he demanded, holding out his hand.
Esme knew better than to deny him, so she offered her hand to him.
He cradled it gently in his and cringed, seeing the blister. “You need to be more careful.”
She stared at him. He sounded as if he cared that she had suffered an injury.
“I am here, my lord,” the healer, called out, breathless and pale, as she hurried toward him.
“It is nothing more than a careless burn, Brenna,” Esme said, not wishing to worry the healer, Torrance always threatening her if she should fail to heal.
“Careless, aye, but a burn nonetheless,” Torrance said with a sharp sneer at his wife.
Brenna clutched the handle of her healing basket tightly as she dropped into a quick bow before Torrance. Then she placed the basket on the table.
"See to her hand. If it leaves a scar, you will answer for it."
Esme flinched, at the threat that was inevitable, but when she dared a glance at him, she found him watching the healer’s every move with a fierceness that, for once, did not seem born of anger.
It was something else entirely. What it was she didn’t know since the various look in his eyes today confused her. One moment he appeared to show concern, another annoyance, and another she did not understand at all. Her husband had returned to her a complex man and she wondered over the change in him.
Torrance stood over them, arms crossed, his gaze intense as the woman carefully examined Esme’s hand.
“She will heal, my lord,” Brenna said in a low, respectful voice. “There may be some scarring, but if tended well, it will be minimal.”
Torrance’s jaw tightened. He said nothing at first, his silence weighing on the room. Then he spoke, his warning clear. “See that she does well.”
He lingered, something Esme hadn’t expected, and his gaze turned frequently to her cradled hand, then to her face. She was grateful when Brack entered the Great Hall and called out to him.
“My lord, you are needed.” Brack’s eyes darted to Brenna. “People wait at your cottage.”
Torrance turned, annoyed. “They will wait until she finishes with my wife.”
“Aye, my lord, I just wanted Brenna to know she is to go there as soon as she is done here,” Brack said with a lingering glance on Brenna.
“I will see to it, Brack,” she said.
Esme thought she caught a touch of a smile to Brenna’s lips, but she dismissed it since she was seeing things with Torrance that were out of place as well.
Without another word, Torrance walked to the door and Brack followed.
The tension in the room eased the moment Torrance was gone.
“I appreciate your help, Brenna,” Esme said, seeing the tremble leave the healer’s slim hands.
She felt sorry for Brenna. She had been sent to Clan Glencairn, against her will, after her clan lost a battle to Torrance and was forced to be the clan’s healer. She was pretty with soft blonde hair. She had a gentle touch, a soft voice, and cautious brown eyes. And Esme thought her to be a few years older than Torrance.
“I am here to help you, my lady, whenever you need me,” Brenna said, her voice as gentle as usual.
Brenna had been there for her numerous times, sneaking behind Torrance’s back to tend to the few bruises he had left on Esme after a fit of anger, and after denying her request to see the healer. It was why Esme was surprised when he summoned Brenna right away when he had denied her request for the healer many other times.