Katie's Highlander by Maeve Greyson

Author:Maeve Greyson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2019-01-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“Mistress Macklemurry will set me to diggin’ neeps and carrots with the kitchen lads if she walks in here and finds yerself bathin’ yer lady rather than me tendin’ to the mistress’s needs.”

The fretting young maidservant, Flora Macray, she’d called herself, reminded Ramsay of a younger, much more animated version of his sister, Esme. More helpful too. Or at least trying to be. He tossed the muddy rag he’d been using to clean away the dirt from his poor unconscious Katie into the ceramic basin of water on the table beside the bed.

He didna bother looking at the slip of a maid, still fussing and muttering beside him. He eased an arm under Katie’s shoulders and gently lifted her to a sitting position sagged against his chest. “If ye wish t’be of use, then come around and help me get these clothes off the lady without havin’ t’cut the damn things away wi’ m’blade.”

Katie would want her clothes intact for when they returned to North Carolina. His gut involuntarily tightened as though he’d just been punched. Ramsay swallowed hard and pressed his cheek to the top of her head as he held her close—the thought of never seeing this woman again was becoming more unbearable with each passing moment.

Flora skittered around the bed, gathered her skirts up to her knees, then clambered onto it and across the mounds of bedclothes to kneel at Katie’s other side. “Hold her away from yerself, m’chieftain, and I’ll pull this odd-lookin’ shift up over yer lady’s head. ’Tis a sight too short t’be of any good, isn’t it?”

Ramsay complied without answering, but Flora just sat there, staring at Katie and working her fingers and thumbs as though trying to find the courage to touch the odd bit of clothing.

“Flora Macray! What the devil are ye doin’? Get off that bed this verra instant!”

“Me arse is fair skint now,” Flora said in a hurried whisper. “Save me, m’chieftain, and I swear t’ye, I’ll take better care of yer lady than I would me own máthair.”

Ramsay’s heart went out to the girl who he’d decided was probably a bit younger than Esme’s seventeen summers. Still supporting Katie against his chest, Ramsay nodded at Flora, completely ignoring the presence of Agnes Macklemurry, housekeeper of MacTavish Keep, standing beside him. “The shirt, Flora. Grab it by the hem, girl, and skim it up off her. Be quick about it, aye?”

“My chieftain, if ye will be so kind as to move, I will take care of yer lady, m’self.” Agnes Macklemurry was a force t’be reckoned with—formidable, stern, and the woman brooked no argument or lollygaggin’ as he’d overheard her tellin’ the servants scurrying in all directions when he’d arrived at the keep with Katie in his arms.

Even Gordon MacTavish, spiritual leader of the MacTavish clan, the brawny tattooed man who’d obviously endured much during his long hard life, had suddenly disappeared into one of the corner alcoves and hurriedly pulled off his muddy boots then returned

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