With those words, tingles spread across her skin. Kennan thought highly of her? Now, why hadn’t he bothered to say so himself? She bowed her head to hide her smile. “Good night to ye, m’laird.”

*  *  *

After the bleeding stopped, Divana leaned on the post of Kennan’s bed for a time. Since the healer had left, Kennan seemed so peaceful in slumber, his deep breathing the only sound. A sense of calm fell over her as it had when no pecking order existed and they’d been but two people working to survive on a lone isle. Yet their time on Hyskeir seemed like another world away. And though tending him emboldened her, she never would have hoped for a tragedy to befall the man to bring them together again.

“Ye should have let your men go without ye…” She sighed, running her fingers down the post. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

He tossed his head, his brows pinching as if he were in pain.

“Let me fluff your pillows. That’ll make ye more comfortable.” Divana ran her fingertips over the heavy damask coverlet as she walked to the head of the bed. “Look at ye, living in luxury with a chamber four times the size of the bothy and a stately bed large enough for an entire family. Why, ye have enough feather pillows to make a pallet for a king.”

Reaching behind him, she punched the cushions inward, trying not to jostle him overmuch.

Again, Kennan moaned and knit his brows.

“Is your shoulder ailing ye?” she asked, glancing downward and gasping. “Oh, dear.”

Runner had mentioned the captain had been thrown from his horse, but everyone was so fraught with the musket ball in his shoulder no one noticed the bruise spreading down the back of his neck. Honestly, if Divana hadn’t been leaning over him, she wouldn’t have seen it.

Ever so lightly, she rubbed her fingers toward the back of his neck. When everything felt normal, she continued upward and found a knot the size of her elbow.

Kennan grunted and winced.

“Saint Columba, ye’ve struck your head something terrible for certain.”

Wringing her hands, she turned toward the door. Should she have someone fetch the healer? But what more would Mistress Ava do? It wasn’t as if she could stitch a lump. She’d left the salve, and a guard had brought up a tincture of willow bark tea for the pain. The knot on his head clearly must hurt something awful.

Divana spooned a bit of tea between his slightly parted lips and watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. After half the cup was gone, she rolled him to his uninjured side.

“That ought to make ye more comfortable.”