“Good,” he said, satisfied.
He waited for her to leave, but she didn’t.
He arched an eyebrow. “Is there more?”
“Well…” Daisy wrung her hands. “Yer friend Finn and yer man-at-arms are waiting for ye in the Great Hall. They said it was urgent.”
Alasdair sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose I have done enough for one day.”
“Ye have, me Laird,” Daisy responded.
Alaisdair nodded and gave the recovering men one final look before striding out.
The Great Hall was lit up, laughter floating from within as he entered. Nathan stood near the table with a cup in his hand, while Finn leaned back in a chair, his leg propped on the edge of the long oak table.
“Quite a successful mission, would ye nae say, me Laird?” Nathan greeted.
Alasdair nodded. “Aye. It went well.”
“Well?” Finn scoffed, sitting forward. “Ye must be blind. Judging by what I’ve heard from the servants, she looked like she’d rather be tossed into the sea than be here.”
Nathan chuckled. “That one’s got fire, I’ll give her that. Never seen a lass fight so hard.”
Alasdair shot him a warning look. “Careful. That’s still me wife ye’re speaking of.”
Nathan raised both hands in surrender. “Me apologies, me Laird.”
Soon, the maids arrived with trays of roasted meat, potatoes, and steaming vegetables. Alasdair settled down, but his eyes strayed to the door.
“Where is the lady?” he asked the maid as she poured wine into his cup.
“She requested that the meal be brought to her chambers, me Laird. She ate quickly and left soon after, back to the wounded hall.”
Alasdair blinked. “Must’ve missed her.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Ye had better get used to that. That one still thinks she’s only here to patch wounds.”
Alasdair frowned. “And what do ye suggest I do?”
“Convince her otherwise. Ye have a few weeks until the men are fully healed,” Finn said, biting into the roast beef. “Mmm.” He licked his lips and turned to the maid. “Tell the cook she’s a godsend.”
The maid blushed. “Aye, Sir. I’ll tell her.”
Finn grinned as she walked away, and Alasdair shot him a questioning look.
“What?” Finn asked, raising his hands. “I cannae compliment food now?”
Alasdair shook his head, smirking. But then Finn’s gaze lowered, his expression turning curious.
“That looks new,” he noted, pointing to the cloth tied around Alasdair’s thigh.
Alasdair leaned back and nodded. “Aye. Courtesy of me wife.”
Finn blinked. “Wait—she stabbed ye?”
“Aye. She wanted to run away, and she damn near succeeded,” Alasdair responded, shrugging. “I suppose luck was on me side.”
Finn gave a low whistle. “Well, she already has me respect.”
