29 THINGS UNSPOKEN

PROPPED UP ON a nest of cushions, Astrid sipped at the cup of bitter-tasting liquid that Donn held to her lips.

"I know it tastes vile, Lady Astrid," the healer said apologetically, "but it'll lessen the pain."

Astrid took a gulp and forced it down before favoring Donn with a wan smile. "Thank ye."

The healer smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Their gazes held, and then Astrid heaved a sigh. "Ye must tire of me being so much trouble, Donn … especially after I had ye so worried only six months ago?"

He shook his head. "That was different, lass. Then, ye carried wounds that were invisible to the eye … whereas this time, I had to extract a blade from yer chest."

Astrid nodded, her gaze lowering to where a heavy bandage wrapped around her ribs under the loose night-rail she wore. "Will it sour?" she asked, a trifle tremulously. She'd seen several wounds, less serious than her own, turn nasty and take a life.

"It's too early to tell," Donn replied, "although I have packed it with woundwort, and I will stay by yer side in the coming days to keep an eye on it."

"I appreciate yer care," Astrid said, her throat thickening. Curse it, ever since she'd awoken, emotion would surge through her unexpectedly. She'd wept when Loch had come to see her, and when Jack and Tara had seated themselves at her bedside. Her cousin's eyes had gleamed with tears as he'd taken her hand and squeezed tight. "Ye did well, Astrid," Jack had said huskily. "I always knew ye were a warrior."

Astrid had appreciated his words, squeezing his hand hard in return as tears burned at her eyelids. Aye, she'd wanted to see them all, although there was one person who hadn't visited her yet.

Someone who was in the forefront of her thoughts. She'd asked Loch to fetch Finn, but he still hadn't been to see her.

A knock sounded at the door then, and Donn flashed her a smile before moving to answer it. "Word will be circulating the broch that ye are awake … prepare to be pestered," he said, hesitating then. "Although if ye aren't feeling up to it, I can send whoever it is away?"

"No, I'm well enough," Astrid assured him. In truth, she was as weak as a kitten. However, the draught he'd prepared her had dulled the throbbing ache in the side of her chest. "Come in," she called.

The door opened then, admitting a tall, lean figure clad in fighting leathers. Unlike her other visitors, Finn hadn't bathed and changed clothing. His face was haggard with fatigue, but his hazel eyes were as sharp as usual.

Before him, he held a tray of food. Astrid noted that he carried himself gingerly, and then she remembered he'd been cut during the battle.

"Pottage and fresh oaten bread from the kitchens, my lady," he greeted her, his mouth lifting at the corners. "If ye are hungry?"

Astrid nodded as she smiled back. Despite everything, she was hungry.

Donn gestured for Finn to approach the bed and set the tray down across Astrid's lap, which he did.

"I shall leave ye for a short while, Lady Astrid," he said. "I'm sure Captain MacDonald will look after ye while I get some supper of my own."

"I will," Finn assured the healer with a nod.

Astrid's heart fluttered as Donn made for the door. A moment later, it thudded shut and they were alone. Reaching down, she picked up the loaf of bread, tore off a chunk, and dipped it in the pottage. She then popped it into her mouth and chewed hungrily. "Ye can sit down, Finn," she mumbled, wishing her pulse would settle. "I hope ye've had that wound to yer flank seen to?"

He nodded. "It's just a scratch." He then pulled up a stool beside her. "How are ye feeling? "

"Like I've been trampled by a herd of sheep." She grimaced then. "Donn says it was a miracle that the blade didn't pierce anything vital."

Finn's throat bobbed. "Aye." He then cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Astrid … I should have been watching over ye more closely. That knife should never have found its mark."

Astrid shook her head. "Ye did all ye could." She swallowed another mouthful of bread, her gaze fusing with his. " And ye saved my life." Then, summoning her courage, she lowered the bread to the tray and reached out, boldly taking his hand in hers. "Thank ye."

Finn stared back at Astrid, his guts tied up in knots.

Seeing her like this—propped up in bed, her lovely face so pale, her dark eyes filled with gratitude—made him feel like a craven cur.

"It's me who should be thanking ye , lass," he said after a pause. "Ye saved my life too, remember?"

Her mouth curved. "Aye."

"I thought I might never get the chance to thank ye," he said, clearing his throat. "Or to apologize for what I said to ye on the beach at Sanna. I hurt ye."

Her eyes widened slightly at these words. A moment later, a blush bloomed across her cheeks. "It's all right," she murmured, glancing away. "Ye don't have to bring that up again."

Finn swallowed. Lord knew, he didn't want to either. Nonetheless, on the way up to her bedchamber, he'd told himself he would. "I just want ye to understand that ye did nothing wrong," he said, cursing the sudden huskiness in his voice. "The problem is entirely with me. Ye are lovely, Astrid. Kind and strong … a fighter."

She glanced his way once more, watching him under long eyelashes. "My knife skills impressed ye then?"

He snorted. "Aye."

A pause followed, and he marked the way her gaze shadowed. "My bravery was all for show initially, ye know. I doubted myself, Finn … it's why I insisted on fighting alongside ye all." Tension rippled across her face as she continued. "Ever since I went to pieces last year, I've feared there's a weakness inside me … one that might consume me if I let it. I wanted to stamp it out. "

Finn stiffened. "That's quite a test ye gave yerself, lass," he murmured. "One that could have killed ye."

Her throat bobbed, and she squeezed his hand. "I know … but it clearly wasn't my time yet."

Finn's pulse quickened. He didn't want to remind her that she wasn't out of danger, that her wound might fester, and so he kept his fears to himself. Astrid needed those around her to keep strong, to believe she'd rally.

Unspeaking, he reached out and placed his free hand over hers.

The devil take him, he wished he was more eloquent. Astrid deserved better than his clumsy apologies.

Sweat dampened under his arms. Speak to her, ye fazart … explain yerself properly!

But he didn't. He couldn't show his vulnerable underbelly—especially not to her .

And so, Finn ignored his heckling conscience and forced a brittle smile. "No, lass … ye will be with us for a while yet."

Astrid's wound didn't fester. Instead, under Donn's care, it healed, and with the passing of the days, a bloom returned to her cheeks, and she grew stronger.

A week after the Siege of Dounarwyse, she was able to move about the broch without leaning on anyone for support. She was even well enough to attend the great feast Rae had put on to thank all the Macleans and their allies who'd helped defend his broch and remained afterward to assist the locals with starting the lengthy repairs.

Seating herself at the laird's table at one end of the hall—near where lumps of peat glowed in the large hearth, and Rae's two favorite highland collies gnawed at mutton bones—Astrid surveyed the cramped space.

Warriors—Macleods and pirates among them—sat shoulder to shoulder, calling out to the serving lasses who carried in spit-roasted suckling pigs, sides of venison, mutton pies, great wheels of cheese, and baskets of fresh bread.

The aroma was enticing indeed, and a smile tugged at Astrid's mouth .

It both surprised and pleased her that the Macleods and the crew of The Blood Reiver had lingered at Dounarwyse to help repair the damage the Mackinnons and their allies had wrought, but they had. And as she took a seat next to her brother at the laird's table, Malcolm Macleod caught Astrid's eye and flashed her a grin.

"It's good to see ye looking so well, Lady Astrid."

"Aye," Alec Rankin added from next to Malcolm. "Bonnier than ever."

Astrid smiled at them both in return, even as she caught Finn's glower. The laird's table was crammed this evening, and the Maclean allies had been given pride of place. Finn was seated a distance from her.

Catching his eye, Astrid inclined her head in a silent challenge. If he didn't appreciate the likes of Malcolm and Alec flirting with her, he could do something about it.

The problem is entirely with me.

She wasn't sure what he'd meant by that, and she'd waited for him to explain himself. Yet he hadn't. In the days that followed, neither of them brought up what happened between them at Dunvegan, or their fraught exchange on the beach at Sanna.

Whatever the reason, Finn had made it clear that their relationship could never go any deeper. And as frustrated as Astrid was by that, she had to accept his decision.

What a surreal week it had been. Dizzying relief had swept through her to learn that the Mackinnons and their allies had been bested. No longer would they live in fear that their northern neighbors would terrorize them. It was a great victory for the Macleans of Mull.

With the passing of the days, Astrid had received many visitors to her sickbed and had especially enjoyed lengthy chats with Tara. When they'd met at Duart a few months earlier, both women had been wary of each other. Yet now, a friendship had developed.

Astrid had also seen far more of Finn than she'd expected.

He was busy helping with repairs but still managed to find moments during the day to climb up to Astrid's chamber and look in on her. He'd stay with her a while then, and they'd chat about the goings-on in the keep. Sometimes, Finn would even tease her, revealing a dry, wicked sense of humor that often brought a grin to her face .

They'd even played a few games of knucklebones together, although the first time he'd drawn the bones from their pouch, Finn's gaze had guttered at the memory of the crew he'd lost. The pair of them had sat in silence then, their thoughts traveling to the brave warriors the sea had taken. They couldn't even give them a burial—something that would cause their kin additional anguish.

Shifting her attention back to where Malcolm was still eyeing her with a hungry look she didn't appreciate, Astrid swallowed a sigh. She wondered then if the warrior had stayed on at Dounarwyse to woo her.

Her pulse quickened at the thought. She hoped not.

Alec was also watching her with a hooded gaze, although his interest was far less evident than Malcolm's.

"I'm happy to see a blush upon yer cheeks," Mairi spoke up then. "It looks as if ye are truly on the mend."

Astrid smiled back at her sister-by-marriage. Loch's wife had traveled up from Duart for these celebrations and sat at her husband's side, her face glowing with relief and pride. "I am," she assured Mairi. "I'm happy to be able to move around again now … I was getting so bored being confined to my bed."

"Aye, well, ye will be able to return to Duart tomorrow," Loch replied. "Does that please ye, sister?"

Astrid's smile widened, excitement fluttering up. Lord, she couldn't wait to spy the walls of her family's fortress rising against the sky, to greet the servants, and see her bedchamber again.

However, even through her joy, something inside her clenched.

She glanced Finn's way again to find him watching her with a veiled gaze. Would their return to Duart make things go back to the way they'd been before? Would the fragile friendship between them shatter when they were in familiar territory once more?

Enough, daft lass , she chided herself. Worrying about such things won't help.

Curse it, despite that she knew it was impossible, the longing in her breast couldn't be quelled.

She cared for Finn MacDonald. Deeply.