Page 36 of His Runaway Bride
"No, it's not."
He raised an eyebrow.
"'Tis a reaction to the oak gall."
"What?"
"Yer sword, aye?Ye clean it with oak gall mixed with vinegar?"
"Aye, it removes the rust and blood better than anything else," he said, confusion evident in his voice.
"'Tis the oak gall causing the rash.Some folk are sensitive to it.Here, may I?"She reached for the small pouch that still hung at her belt, the one Dugald's men had overlooked in their haste.
Bhaltair sighed and in a sarcastic voice replied, "By all means, it’s not like I have anything pressing to do today.My keep is crumbling, my men dinnae follow orders, yer husband will likely murder me, and my skin is on fire.So help yerself, Lady MacNeil."
Lileas gave him a sympathetic look before she mixed a small amount of the nettle root she had gathered with some chamomile from her pouch, creating a paste that she carefully applied to the irritated skin on his forearm.Bhaltair closed his eyes, feeling relief for the first time in weeks as the cooling mixture soothed the burning itch.
"See, 'tis nettle root and chamomile," she explained."It will draw out the irritation, but dinnae use oak gall anymore.For yer sword, try river sand mixed with a bit of oil, or just plain lye soap.It'll clean just as well without the rash."
The room went quiet as everyone watched this remarkable display of knowledge and skill.
"Bloody hell," Bhaltair breathed, staring at his arm in amazement."No wonder the MacNeils are thriving."
"I told ye, she is worth keeping—" Dugald began.
"She is still someone else's wife!"Bhaltair roared, his anger returning full force."And when her husband arrives—which he no doubt will—we're going to return her with our apologies and pray to the good lord he doesn't slaughter us all for yer stupidity."
As if summoned by his words, the sound of horses thundering into the courtyard echoed through the hall, followed by the distinctive war cry of Clan MacNeil.
"Too late for prayers now," Bhaltair muttered."Show the MacNeil inside.We need to return his wife before this becomes a bloodbath."
Moments later, the doors of the Great Hall burst open, and Ewan MacNeil strode in with several men.His green eyes blazed with fury, and his hand rested on his sword hilt as he took in the scene before him.
"Lileas!"he called out, relief flooding his voice as he saw her sitting unharmed by the fire.
She rose immediately, moving toward him as he crossed the room in quick strides.But before they could embrace, Bhaltair stepped forward, his hands raised in a gesture of peace.
"MacNeil," he said formally."I need ye to ken that I had no knowledge of this kidnapping.My men acted without my orders, they will be punished accordingly, and I was preparing to return yer wife to ye when ye arrived."
Ewan's gaze moved between Bhaltair and Lileas, his jaw clenched with barely controlled rage."Is this true, love?"
"Aye," Lileas said quickly, stepping closer to her husband."He was furious when they brought me here.He was about to escort me home himself."
For a moment, the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a blade.Then Ewan's arms came around his wife, pulling her against his chest as if he could shield her from all the world's dangers.
"I'm sorry I could nae protect ye," he said roughly against her hair.
"No, 'twas my fault for being stubborn and leaving the keep," Lileas replied, her voice muffled against his chest."I'm sorry."
"No, twas my fault and I'm sorry," Ewan insisted.
Bhaltair Ferguson just rolled his eyes at the display."Perhaps," he said dryly, "we could discuss reparations, rather than standing here watching ye apologize to each other until next Michaelmas."
Ewan glared at Bhaltair while Lileas for the first time since her kidnapping, burst out laughing.
***
