in his dark, masculine room. The heavy, navy blue drapes were still drawn, and his mother directed him to open them to allow the sunshine in so she could better see to her work. He pushed them back, feeling secure in the knowledge that his mother would know what to do. He stood near the door, waiting for any direction from her, to fetch anything she required or offer another set of hands if needed.

She had the cook steam her needles, a practice she said would keep infection from settling in. After taking a good look at the wound, she called to him, having him hold the girl’s slight leg steady while she took her tools in to fetch the bullet out. He looked down at the slender calf, so small in his long fingers, and realized how delicate she was. His gaze moved to her face, her long lashes lying on her soft cheeks, her brow furrowed, tense even in the forced sleep.

“I’ve got it,” Jane said, her long needle deep within the leg, blood coming with it as she pulled it out. “Here you are, Adam. Now, hand me my bag, will you? I must clean this out rather well.”

He nodded and helped her as she washed the wound and packed a paste of herbs overtop it. When they had finished, he draped a spare plaid overtop of Rachel. He sat down in the chair beside the bed to keep watch, but his mother had other ideas. “You wouldn’t want to be accused of anything improper, son,” she said, giving him a bit of a look as if she questioned his thoughts regarding the woman. “Out with you, now. You know her family will be here soon enough, and you will have to keep them at bay. They may visit, but she shouldn’t move for a few days until she gains some strength back. Not to worry, she’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, though what he was thanking her for — her work, her words, or her understanding — he didn’t know. He turned and started down the stairs, ignoring the unease that had begun to form in the pit of his stomach.

7

When Rachel woke, she blinked her eyes rapidly and tried not to panic as she had no idea where she was. All she could see were walls the color of midnight and oak furniture that had clearly been handcrafted with care sprinkled around the bedroom.

Then, before she had time to consider her current circumstances any further, she gasped at the pain that burned from her leg, and it all came rushing back to her. She must have fainted from the shock, she realized, feeling foolish at her weakness.

But where had she been taken? This was not her room at Darfield. She tried to sit up but a cool hand came to her forehead. “Lie still, and you will be fine,” said the woman, and Rachel turned to take a better look at her. She was beautiful, with silver lining her dark chestnut hair. Her warm brown eyes gave Rachel a sense of peace, and she relaxed back into the pillow.

“Where am I?” she asked, as she drew the plaid blanket she was covered with closer. It smelled of wood and pine, and the scent was comforting, making her want to burrow even deeper within it.

“You’re at Galbury Castle,” said the woman. “I’m Jane McDougall. I believe you’ve met my sons, Adam, and Finlay, as well as Finlay’s wife, Kyla. Adam brought ye here after your injury, and I managed to find the bullet in yer leg.”

“The bullet…” It all came rushing back to her now and she could hardly believe what had happened. “Are you a physician of some sort?” she asked, having trouble believing this motherly woman in front of her had no qualms about working in her flesh.

“Nay,” said the woman with a soft laugh. “I wish I had the skill to heal maladies and illnesses. I can, however, take care of the practicalities of simple injuries. The Lord knows I have had more than enough practice. You should recover enough to walk in but a few days. You will just want to rest that leg a bit. How does it feel?”

Rachel winced, as she had been trying to keep from crying out, though she realized her breath was coming a bit shorter as she attempted to ignore the pain.

“It hurts — quite a bit,” she admitted.

“I have something for you. It should numb the pain some, though it will make you sleepy.” The woman held out a cup, and while it smelled absolutely awful, Rachel drank it down.

“Is my father here?” she asked, not particularly caring about the answer, but curious nonetheless.

“Nay,” answered the woman kindly. “Though I am sure he shall be here any moment now.”

Rachel shrugged. “’Tis no matter. He will come at some point. Whatever he happens to say to you, though, I was the one who was determined to join the hunt, and no one could have convinced me otherwise. It was my fault alone. Please know that?”

She looked up at Jane earnestly, and the woman agreed, though a strange look came over her features before she quickly masked it.

“Of course, dear,” she said. “Forgive me for asking, but how old are you?”

“Two-and-twenty,” answered Rachel, knowing what was to come.

“Oh, my dear, I am sorry,” replied Jane, not hiding her surprise. “I had thought you were younger. No matter. I shall let you know when your father arrives. Until then, sleep well.”

When Rachel awoke the next time, the drapes had been closed and all was dark, though she could sense a presence in the room.

“Hello?” she asked groggily, to which she heard a soft curse.

“I didna think ye would be awake. Pay me no mind, just gathering some belongings.”

She sat upright at the rich, low voice that came from the dark corner of the room, realizing that it was Adam.

“I — I’m sorry, I did

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