CLAIMED BY A HIGHLANDER (THE DOUGLAS LEGACY Book 2) (39 page)

“Ye don’t need to carry me,” Kenneth said in a voice that was so weak it sent fear pulsing through Rory’s veins. “I can walk.”

“Water that cold takes a toll,” Rory said, pretending calm as he raced down the path. “We can’t have ye slip and fall into the river again, now can we?”

“I didn’t fall,” the lad murmured.

His head lolled against Rory’s chest, and his breathing was dangerously shallow. Panic choked Rory as he ran faster and faster to save his son.

CHAPTER 42

Sybil left her drawings on her table and went to look out the window again. As long as Kenneth was with Rory, she knew he would be safe, but she was anxious to hear how their outing had gone. She should not have pushed Rory so hard to accept the boy. Left alone, he would come to it in his own time.

She regretted her harsh words even more. She had blurted out the hateful words because she had been so frightened after Kenneth was thrown from his horse. Perhaps she was wrong about that too, and it was only an accident.

The breath left her lungs when she saw Rory come through the gate at a dead run. He was stark naked, his hair was streaming wet, and his leg was covered in blood. A moment passed before she noticed he was holding something wrapped in his plaid.

Oh, Mary, Mother of God,
it was Kenneth.

She ran down the stairs to the hall screaming for help. The next hour was a blur. Grizel took charge, ordering Rory to take Kenneth to an upstairs chamber, sending a servant to fetch her bag of medicinal herbs and ointments, and directing others to build up the fire and bring extra blankets. Then she shooed everyone but Sybil out of the room.

“Comfort him while I work,” Grizel ordered.

Sybil held Kenneth’s hand and spoke softly to him while the older woman mixed a salve and applied it with quick, practiced hands to the countless cuts and scratches covering the lad’s body. She gave Sybil a worried look as she wrapped a strip of clean linen over the deep gash on Kenneth’s forehead. The boy was pale and too quiet.

“There’s nothing more we can do for him now,” Grizel whispered after they got a tincture down his throat. “Go fetch your husband so I can see to him. That looked like a bad cut on his leg.”

Sybil wiped her forehead and tried to calm herself before opening their chamber door. Rory was pacing when she entered but came to an abrupt halt. He had put on a léine, the knee-length shirt Highlanders wore, but his skin was still damp beneath it.

“How is Kenneth?” Rory asked.

“Grizel has done what she can and says he’s in God’s hands now.” Sybil looked down at the long jagged cut on his leg that tore open the newly-healed arrow hole. “She wants to bind your wound.”

“That can wait.” He made an impatient wave of his hand. “She must give all her attention to the lad.”

Something caught Sybil’s eye, and she turned to see that Rory had found the sketches she left on her table and spread them out over the bed.

“You’ve a talent for drawing.” He picked up a sheet on which she’d drawn several side-by-side images of Rory and Kenneth and shook his head. “I’ve been so blind.”

“So ye see the likeness now?” Hope stirred inside her.

“I can see it now.” He turned and met her gaze. “But I felt it in my heart first when I carried him in my arms.”

Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I’m so glad.”

“You were right all along,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been so blockheaded—and not just about the lad. Can ye forgive me?”

She stepped into his arms and rested her head against his chest. “If you can forgive me as well.”

“I love ye so much,” he said against her hair. “Promise ye won’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she said. “Not ever.”

Before they could say anything else, Grizel poked her head through the doorway. Sybil held her breath, fearing Kenneth had taken a turn for the worse.

“Perhaps the laird will let me take care of his wound now,” Grizel said, a smile playing on her lips. “The lad’s alert and hungry. God be praised!”

Sybil and Rory rushed past her and up the stairs to the chamber above. Though Kenneth had cuts and bruises on his face and arms, he was sitting up propped by pillows. Malcolm, who had come into the room since Sybil left, gave her his chair next to the bed.

Sybil smiled at Kenneth and squeezed his hand. “How are ye feeling?”

“I’m starving.”

The adults laughed with relief. Hunger was a very good sign.

“Only broth for now.” Grizel handed a bowl and spoon to Sybil. “Don’t let him eat too fast.”

While Sybil spooned the broth into Kenneth’s mouth, Grizel tsked over the jagged cut on Rory’s leg, slathered a smelly poultice on it, and bandaged it. He escaped her ministrations before she could start on his lesser injuries and came to stand beside Sybil next to the bed.

“That cut on your forehead will make a manly scar,” Rory told Kenneth with a wink. “But a knock on the head can make ye feel a wee bit confused for a time. Do ye remember what happened?”

Kenneth gave him a solemn nod.

“You remember falling into the river?”

“I didn’t fall,” Kenneth said. “I did just as ye told me and stayed away from the edge.”

“Then how did ye end up in the river?” Rory asked. “Ach, don’t tell me ye jumped.”

“Lads!” Grizel said behind them. “’Tis a wonder any of them live to be men.”

“I didn’t jump,” Kenneth said.

“Hmmm,” Rory said. “Then I suppose ye must have glided down to the river on a faery’s back.”

Rory and Grizel were taking the boy’s denials with humor, but a cold chill of premonition went up Sybil’s spine.

“There’s no shame in admitting a mistake,” Rory said, turning serious, “so long as ye learn from it.”

“But I didn’t fall or jump,” Kenneth said in a stronger voice. “I was pushed.”

***

“He was pushed!” Rory shouted, raising his hands in the air. “Who would do such a thing to a bairn? And on MacKenzie lands!”

Sybil watched Rory pace up and down their bedchamber, where they had retreated after Grizel told them Kenneth must rest.

“So ye do believe someone meant to harm Kenneth?” she asked.

“Harm him? Nay, they meant to kill the lad,” he said, his eyes blazing. “And they had the bollocks to attempt it while he was with
me
,” he said, ramming his thumb against his chest. “Right under my damned nose!”

“Now that ye know the threat exists, ye can protect the lad.”

“I’ll give whoever did it his just desserts and drown him in the river,” Rory said, squeezing his hand as if he were holding someone by the neck. “I’ll hold his head under and watch the life go out of him.”

He looked so fierce that Sybil had to brace herself not to take a step back.

“Ye can’t drown whoever is responsible until ye know who it is,” she said. “Ask yourself who would gain by Kenneth’s death—that is, besides you and me.”

“Besides you and me?” Rory said, his tone full of outrage.

“People will assume I want my own son to be the heir,” she said. “As for you, ye made it clear to the Grants that you didn’t want to claim him and resented being pressured to keep him here.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d harm him.” Rory scowled at her. “For God’s sake, he’s just a bairn.”

“
I
know ye wouldn’t.” She rested her hand on his arm. “But if Kenneth died under suspicious circumstances while living under your care and protection, the Grants would be sure to cry foul and blame you.”

“And who would benefit from that?” he said, echoing her question. “I see what you’re saying—and who must be behind this.”

Sybil nodded. “It’s got to be Hector.”

“He wouldn’t risk doing it by his own hand, especially this close to the castle.” Rory clenched the handle of the dirk at his belt and looked off into the distance with narrowed eyes.

Watching him, Sybil thought that whoever had done Hector’s foul bidding and attempted to harm this child was a fool. Rory would find him and kill him.

And Hector should be worried, for his time would come too.

***

Rory sat with his claymore sword across his knees and watched his son’s chest rise and fall with his steady breathing. Grizel had given him a sleeping draught so that the pain from his injuries would not interfere with his rest. When Rory sent her off to get some sleep herself, she reassured him again that the lad was out of danger. But Rory knew better.

As the door creaked open, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. When he saw Sybil in the glow of the candlelight, he relaxed.

“You should get some sleep.” Sybil smoothed his hair back with her fingers and kissed his forehead, a gesture he had missed without knowing he had.

“I can’t leave the lad’s side when I don’t know who I can trust,” he said. “Whoever did this is close by.”

“Ye don’t know that it was someone in the castle,” she said as she settled onto the seat beside him. “Hector could have had one of his men watching the castle for an opportunity.”

“Either way, I can’t take the chance of leaving him unguarded,” Rory said. “If you’re right that someone made his pony bolt—and I think ye are—this is not the first attempt, and it’s unlikely to be the last.” He did not know how many were involved in the plot, but the bastards were bold and determined.

“Ye can’t watch Kenneth every moment.” She propped her elbow on her knee and rested her chin on her hand. “We’ll have to find another solution.”

“Malcolm is here, and I’ll send for my brother in the morning,” he said. “We can watch the lad in turns.”

“Hmm.”

Apparently she did not think much of that plan. He had to admit it was a short-term solution at best. “What are ye thinking?”

“That the best way to keep Kenneth safe is to let him die.” When he raised his eyebrows, she said. “Not
truly
die.”

“Create a deceit, then?”

“Everyone saw ye carry his limp body into the castle,” she said. “In the morning, ye can announce the dreadful news that the poor lad didn’t survive the night.”

“Once he’s recovered, it will be difficult to keep a rambunctious lad hidden from the household for long.”

He loved how she bit her lip as she applied her quick mind to the problem. Working together felt like it used to be before their falling out. This was how it should be between them.

“Until we can eliminate the threat, the safest place for him is with the Grants,” Sybil said. “I’m sure they’ll agree to keep his presence there a secret until we can bring him home again.”

Rory did not like the idea of having Kenneth out of his sight, but she was right. The danger to him was here, from within the MacKenzie clan. The Grants would guard him well, and having him in their protection would free Rory to deal with Hector and his accomplices.

“We’ll either have to make a pretense of delivering his body to them in a funeral cart or secret him out some other way,” Rory said. “There will be trouble, though, if word of his death reaches the Grants before we can get him to Urquhart Castle.”

“We can’t let that happen.” Sybil’s hand went to her throat. “That would cause them unnecessary sorrow.”

“Not to mention a clan war, which is just what Hector wanted,” Rory said. “I’ll send a message ahead, but I doubt Grant will believe it. He doesn’t trust me when it comes to the lad.”

“Grant trusts me,” she said. “I’ll write the message and mention a private conversation we had so he knows it’s from me.”

Rory recalled that conversation all too well. “Tell him you’re not exchanging your younger husband for an older one—and that we’ll meet him just outside of Beauly, by the river.”

He could hardly believe they were actually going to try this scheme, but
múineann gá seift,
need teaches a plan
.

A smile played on Sybil’s lips as she leaned back and folded her arms. “Hector will believe he has succeeded, and then we will have him right where we want him.”

This was the Sybil he knew and loved. Her eyes were shining as she envisioned the defeat of his enemy. How had he ever doubted her loyalty? As Catriona said, the best luck of his life was when Sybil’s brother deceived him in a game of cards.

He pulled her onto his lap and was about to kiss her for the first time in far too long when Grizel interrupted them—again. This time, Malcolm was with her.

“Lucky we came to relieve you,” Grizel said, “or the lad might wake up to see something he shouldn’t.”

Rory shared the plan with the older couple while Sybil wrote out the message to Grant.

“I’ll have my grandson Ewan leave at first light to deliver it,” Malcolm said. “He’s a fast rider and will have it to Urquhart Castle before the false news can reach the Grants.”

When they started to debate how best to get Kenneth out of the castle without anyone guessing he was alive, Grizel interrupted them.

“You’re going to wake the lad with all your jabbering. This can wait till morning,” Grizel said. “Off to bed with the two of ye. Malcolm and I will stay with the lad the rest of the night.”