For The Love Of My Scotsman (Complete!)

A Compromising Situation

Thomas's heart pounded at the sound of Lottie's voice behind him. What was she doing there at this hour of the morning? Could she possibly have found out-

He stood and turned slowly, shoulders tense. Lottie's bright eyes widened in horror when she saw him, and she covered her mouth.

At the same time, Thomas looked down at her hands. They were also covered in dried blood, and her skirt was stained with it, too, as if she had balled her hands in the fabric.

Losing all sense of propriety, Thomas grabbed her hands. "What's wrong? What's happened?" He turned her hands over, frantically examining them for injury. Had she truly confronted Mr. Farraday the night before? Was that why--?

"It's not my blood," Lottie reassured him, but then she shook her head. "Never mind that; what happened to you?" she gestured to his own bloodstained clothes.

Thomas sighed in relief. She was fine. But then his throat tightened. If it wasn't her blood on her own hands... whose was it?

"This?" Thomas looked down at his shirt, struggling to focus. "Oh. It's not mine, either."

They both laughed awkwardly, but then asked at the same time "Whose blood is it?"

They laughed again and Thomas gestured to Esquire behind him. "Some of the guests said they would go riding this morning and I took Esquire out to warm him up first. Unfortunately, he tripped in the snow and cut his knee quite badly. It's not dangerous, but leg wounds on horses tend to bleed like the dickens. I bound it with my shirt until we could get back to the stables." That was... partially true, Thomas grimaced.

Lottie's shoulders relaxed, but her brows still pinched together with concern. "What happened to your leg?"

Thomas followed her pointed finger to a large gash in his own leg, just below his knee. In his rushed state, he hadn't even noticed the torn plaid trousers, which were now missing a large chunk, and the bloody wound on his shin.

"Ah," he chuckled awkwardly. "I-I was thrown when Esquire tripped." That was true, but the gash had come later...

"Is Esquire alright now?" Lottie asked, peering around him nervously at the large black horse.

"Aye," Thomas returned to crouch by Esquire's leg and finished wrapping a dressing over the even stitches that Thomas had used to close the wound. "He'll be right as rain in a few weeks if we can keep the infection out."

"Good," Lottie said, taking Thomas by the hand and leading him into the back of the stables where his small room hid behind the tack room. She pushed him into a chair and filled his washbasin with fresh water.

The room was sparse, with only a bed, a chest for his clothes, and the washbasin and water pitcher. Even the ceiling of the room was unfinished, with the rafters leading up to the hayloft left exposed.

"Wee Lassie," Thomas protested gently, taking her blood-stained hand in his as she reached for a washcloth. "Ye ought not to be here. T'isn't proper."

Lottie lifted her chin, even as her cheeks tinged a delightful pink that made Thomas's heart constrict happily. "You belong to me, remember? How can you be a good guinea pig for my experiments if you get hurt or sick?"

Thomas grinned broadly and leaned back in his chair. Flitting his hand through the air, he said "Well, then, if it's for science..."

Lottie's lips twitched with a smile but then she pursed them with a professional air and rolled his trouser leg up to his knee. Cheeks still pink, she wrung the water out of the cloth before dabbing it gently against his wound. He hissed, finally feeling the pain that his adrenaline had kept at bay.