“Oh.” She shook her head. “Not too much. Mr. Lennox gave me a stout glass of brandy.” The sight of her smile fairly stole his breath. “And I do mean stout.” She opened her other hand to indicate the size of the glass, and he couldn’t resist chuckling.
“Rafe’s answer to everything is a good drink.”
“I think he’s quite right in this case.” Lydia lay back and winced.
“What’s the matter?”
“I think I have some twigs in my hair from sleeping on the ground last night.” She brushed at it with her good arm a little. “Brodie, could you . . . ? That is to say, would you mind very much if I asked you to comb my hair out? I meant to have Fanny do it, but I forgot.”
Brodie had never been asked by a woman to brush her hair before, and if any other woman had made the request, he would have thrown back his head and laughed. But for Lydia? At that moment, he would’ve done anything she asked.
“Aye. Where’s your brush?” He looked around the room until he found her luggage.
“In the smaller valise.” She pointed to the case next to the large trunk.
He dug through the contents until he found the hairbrush and a mother-of-pearl-handle comb. He held them both up to her, utterly baffled as to where to start.
“The comb first, and go gently, please. I suspect it’s in quite a mess.” Lydia sat up and turned her back to him. She searched for pins, removing them before he started. Brodie carefully began to use the comb to thread the tangles loose. He did find a surprising number of twigs and bits of leaves in the silken strands.
“Lass, I think you hid half the forest in your hair.” He added another twig to a growing pile on the table beside the bed.
“It was a very bad night of sleep.”
“I imagine it was. Cold ground, no blankets or pillows, no feather-tick mattress. Just hard, unforgiving earth,” he said.
“It sounds like you’ve slept like that before.” She looked over her shoulder at him, and he was entranced by her profile. She was lovely beyond measure. Lovely in a way her sister would never be, and it was only partially to do with her looks.
“My father used to be rough with me and my siblings. I spent many a night sleeping in the woods. If he couldna find me, he couldna hurt me.” It was one of the things he did often back then. Run away and hide from anything that could hurt him. His father’s abuse had made him a coward, and he would always hate his father for that.
“Oh, that’s awful.” Lydia tried to turn around to face him. He gently urged her to stay still so he could brush more tangles out. Her hair was smoothing out into a glossy golden waterfall down her back.
“The old man is dead. I no longer need to fear him,” he said quietly.
Lydia did turn then. “That doesn’t mean that what he did to you didn’t leave a scar. Our hearts carry scars as much as our bodies.”
She was wise for one so young, and he realized more than ever that he had ruined this good young woman’s life all because of his temper and his pride. Now she was giving him compassion when he least deserved it. His face heated, and when she noticed, her head tilted to the side as though she was puzzled by his reaction.
“Lydia . . .” He started to speak, but the door opened and Rafe entered with a doctor behind him. Brodie wasn’t sure whether he was frustrated or glad for the interruption.
“This is Dr. Jacobs.”
“I was told this young lady is my patient?” The Scottish gentleman raised a pair of pince-nez to his nose and approached the bed.
“Aye. This is Miss Lydia Hunt,” Brodie introduced her.
“A pleasure, Miss Hunt.” The doctor made a short bow, and Lydia thanked him. “Though I do hate to meet lovely young ladies under such circumstances. Gentlemen, you may go, unless the lady wishes for you to stay. But I urge you to leave, in case I must make delicate inquiries.”
Brodie and Rafe stepped into the corridor, where Fanny was already waiting. She was nervously twining her fingers in her apron and watching their faces for news.
“Fanny, would you go and keep the lass company?” he asked the maid. “I dinna want her to be alone.”
“Of course, sir.” The maid rushed inside and closed the door. Brodie wanted to be in that room with her, but if he learned of any other injuries that he hadn’t noticed, it might bloody well kill him.
“I think you’re the one in need of a brandy now.” Rafe nodded his head to a door across the hall.
“I certainly am.” Brodie followed his friend, but his mind and thoughts were still with Lydia.
13
Lydia held still while Dr. Jacobs unwound the bandage from her arm. He made a face as he saw the thick, clotted blood in the oozing wound.
Fanny put a hand to her lips. “Heavens.”
“Heavens indeed,” the doctor said as he began to dab a cloth soaked in alcohol around the wound. Lydia hissed as the alcohol stung.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Miss Hunt, I’m afraid I must inquire about the nature of these injuries and how you came by them.”
As Lydia told him the story of her abduction, the doctor nodded.
“We’ve had trouble recently with a pack of brigands in the area. They search for travelers, especially English ones, who they believe are easy prey.” The doctor re-bandaged her wound and cinched it tight. “You must change this bandage daily. Clean it with alcohol. I didn’t stitch you up, but if the wound doesn’t begin healing by the time you reach Edinburgh, have a doctor do it there. You’re lucky the blade was sharp and the cut was shallow and clean.” He carefully examined her face in the light. “Did those men hit you as well?”
“Yes, only once.” She touched her still tender cheek.
“Did they injure you anywhere else? I know the subject may seem impolite, but you must tell me if they forced themselves upon you.” He paused before speaking in an even more gentle tone. “Sexual violation can do great damage to one’s body and one’s mind.” The doctor’s words made Lydia want to cry for some reason.
“No, they did not. I was fortunate.” She wiped away tears. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually so silly.”
The doctor patted her hands. “There is nothing silly about being upset and scared. You have been through a terrible ordeal. Many ladies would be understandably upset, as would many men. Let your maid take good care of you. No heroics, eh? I know ladies hide their hurts far better than men.” He chuckled. “You may be the fairer sex, but you’re also far braver when it comes to managing pain.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Lydia managed a smile for him.
“No traveling today. I’ll tell the gentleman you are traveling with that you’d better rest until tomorrow.” He collected his tools and tucked them back into his worn black leather bag before he left the room.
“What can I do, my lady?” Fanny asked. “Would you like a hot bath?”
“A hot bath would be nice. I feel dirty.” Dirty all over. She hadn’t been truly hurt by those men, not in the way the doctor meant, but she still felt damaged in some way, and she needed to scrub her skin until she was pink from it.