Free The Wrong Highland Bridegroom: A Novella by Amanda Forester Page B

then ran out to help bring in others, such as the elderly who may have difficulty moving quickly in such a crowd. Effie called for the musicians to come and play to provide some comfort during a difficult time.
    It was not long before Laird Campbell rejoined them. “’Tis well, my friends. The English were in training determined to try to put the fear in us, but we will ne’er be cowed or defeated! Join us for the feast tonight and we will award Sir Connor with all that is his due!”
    The women cheered the proclamation. They had escaped war for one more day at least.
    Effie sighed. Connor’s moment of triumph had been robbed by the cursed English. And Connor’s women had robbed her of her kiss and her man.

Eleven
    Lady Maclachlan did not have to call for Effie this time. Effie knocked and was greeted by a smiling Lady Maclachlan, who stepped out of the sleeping quarters without a word, leaving Effie alone with Connor.
    He stood in the middle of the room. His armor had been removed, but otherwise he was still in his dirty clothes, his face splattered with mud. His expression was unreadable, and Effie had no idea whether or not he was happy to see her.
    Despite his choice of another bride, Effie had felt she needed to come to thank him and to help him. She had asked him to put Malcolm in the dirt, and he had risked his life on a crazed horse to oblige her. The least she could do was show her appreciation.
    “Ye were amazing. I canna tell ye how pleased I am that ye won,” said Effie.
    Connor grunted in reply. “I hope ye enjoyed the spectacle.”
    “Ye were remarkable. I kept fearing ye would be bucked off.”
    “I shared yer fears.”
    “What a mount to choose. I have never seen the like.” Effie stepped closer. Though Connor had never looked worse, she had never seen him so handsome.
    “He is named after the demon Grendel and shares a similar disposition.”
    “Perhaps they ought to have named him Rainbow Kitten instead.”
    One side of Connor’s mouth twitched up. “I fear it would hardly improve his demeanor.”
    “Perhaps not, but the image of Malcolm sitting in the mud will be amusement for me for a long time to come.”
    Connor could not help a small smile from showing on his face. “Aye. ’Twas the best part o’ the day.”
    “But I hope to make it better.” Effie held up the jar of salve.
    Connor sighed. “Aye, that is welcome. But now I must bathe and change for the feast tonight.”
    He was attempting to be rid of her, but she would not leave quite so easily. “I shall help.”
    “Dinna need help.” He attempted to remove his surcoat but winced with the effort.
    “Are ye hurt?” Effie ran to him and began feeling his arms, looking for possible wounds.
    “Nay, only tired.”
    “We shall see.” Effie began to untie his surcoat.
    “What do ye think ye are doing?”
    “Undressing ye. And dinna think o’ stopping me. ’Tis the least I can do after all ye have done for me.” She was determined to help and had no interest in leaving the room. Effie let the surcoat drop to the ground.
    “I can do it myself,” Connor grumbled, but softly so as not to actually get her to stop.
    Effie smiled. “Aye, but then I could’na see where ye are injured.” She helped him remove his padded hauberk and his shirt. Her smiled faded as he stood before her, naked from the waist up. He was so handsome it took her a few moments of gawking before she remembered she was supposed to be looking for injuries.
    “Are ye hurt anywhere?” she asked quickly.
    Connor shrugged then winced.
    “He got ye in the shoulder.” Effie could see a purple bruise beginning to form. “Here sit.” She pointed to a stool next to a bucket. “I see they brought up hot water for you.”
    Connor obliged her and sat on the stool. Effie took a cloth, dunked it in hot water, and began to wash him. First she touched his face; she gently wiped away the dirt. He closed his eyes and she could appreciate his face without him seeing