Free The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle) by Ashley York

she called out to her brother. Calum was beside himself with worry.
    Seumas knew of only one herb that could help break the fever, but he did not see any in the area. He had only known it to grow further north, in the Highlands. However, he happened to know that the cook at the castle had her own stash, but he could not leave Iseabail to get it. Perhaps the boy could get back into the castle. He was young, not considered a threat.
    “I am afraid she might die if we do not get her fever down,” Seumas said. Calum’s eyes were wide with fear. “I need ye to get something from the cook in the castle.”
    The lad stood without hesitation. “Tell me what I need to do.”
    “Ye cannot be seen, Calum.” His bravery was admirable, but there was a real danger of him being caught. Seumas did not know all the details, but he knew that much. “Ye need to get into the castle unnoticed. Go in with others passing through the gates so ye do not stand out.”
    Calum nodded.
    “Get into the barn and tell Robbie ye need his help. He will know what to do.”
    “Will I take your horse, then?”
    Seumas had not thought about that. Could the boy even ride?
    “Only to the edge of the field before the bridge. Then dismount so ye do not draw unnecessary attention.”
    Unwavering, Calum moved to untie the destrier, and Seumas helped him mount. At first a little concerned about the difference in size between the horse and rider, Seumas was relieved to see Calum had no problem controlling the animal as he headed toward the castle. He rode quite well.
    Iseabail’s moan drew him back to her side. Without that herb, he knew of only one thing to get her fever down. Submerging her body in water. The river nearby ran cold from the loch to the east. It would have to do. He cradled her in his arms as he carried her the short distance to the river. Her head bobbed against his chest. The lack of moisture on her body was a bad sign.
    “Do not die,” he whispered, before settling her alongside the rushing brook.
    His hand shook as he untied the cloak, exposing her dress. Again he questioned how well off this MacNaughton clan was. The material was soft against his fingers as he freed the ties and lowered her gown over her shoulders. The loose garment slid easily down her body. Either she had lost weight or the dress was not her own. When only her thin chemise covered her, Seumas took a deep breath to steady his nerves.
    He had seen naked women bathe unashamedly on his travels. Women from other cultures were far less modest about displaying their bodies. With all this vast experience, why was seeing this one woman naked making it hard for him to breathe?
    He shifted her body to work the chemise up over her thigh s and expose more of her skin to the cooling water. It snagged and, when Seumas tugged on it, he found the point of a blade poking through. He worked the hem loose to reveal an eight inch dagger sheathed in leather and strapped to her thigh. It was well made and dangerous looking. Meant to inflict pain. He glanced at the woman in his arms. Why would she need a dagger? More questions without answers.
    His gaze roved helplessly over her body, across the fullness of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, the dark triangle visible even through her chemise and disappearing between her thighs. She was all but naked, and he ached to run his fingers along her soft curves. Touch the silky skin. She moaned, bringing him back to his senses.
    He closed his eyes. This woman was definitely trouble. Moving more on the strength of his conviction than desire of his mind, he let her legs slip into the water. He used his hands to scoop the water and dragged its coolness along her arm, working his way up both sides. There was no response.
    Finally he settled her into the river, holding her firmly. The cool water gently lapped at the chemise bunched over her hips, and she took a shaky breath, though her eyes were still shut. After another moment, the heat of her