Desiring the Highlander (36 page)

There was a dangerous softness in his voice. Ellenor nodded and moved to exit the room. Just as she was closing the door shut behind her, she heard Liam say that war had broken out amongst the clan. She waited for a second, half expecting Cole to come out and change his mind about her riding into unknown hazards, but he didn’t. She turned and raced across the lawn to the stables from which Brighid was just emerging.

Her brown eyes grew round and large. “What happened?”

“I cannot say, but someone is hurt, and if I were to guess, the person injured is Dugan. At least I hope he is.”

Brighid frowned with confusion. “Did you say you
hope
Dugan was injured?”

Ellenor nodded and continued her march to the stables. “Otherwise, he is a dead man.”

Just a little over three hours later, Ellenor knelt by a seriously injured Dugan, wondering what punishments the church would bestow on her if she wounded him further by punching him in the mouth. The man had no inkling of just how much he needed to stop talking.

The ride out had not been an easy one. They had passed the designated training fields shortly after they left Fàire Creachann and didn’t arrive to where the men had gathered until almost two hours later. The ground was rocky and uneven, but it was the tension radiating from Cole that put everyone—including her—at unease.

Ellenor had thought that once they had found the men and heard what had happened, the hostility brewing in Cole would lessen, but now after hearing the explanations—or the lack of them—the result was just the opposite and she simply wished Dugan would be quiet.

“It was an accident. He would never have done it. Couldn’t have. We’re like brothers,” Dugan mumbled. He was sweating profusely and it was a cold day. The man was in intense pain, but if Cole could see it—or cared—Ellenor couldn’t tell.

“Are you saying Leith did this?” The question came from Cole.

Dugan swallowed and tried again. “I thought distance would help. It did. Ask Jaime. I just went too far. Never thought he would come here. Thought it would give him time.”

Before he could finish, Ellenor shoved Dugan back down for what had to be the tenth time. The man was panicked and he should be, but right now, she needed him to lie still. “If you move again, I’ll see to it that you’re gagged.”

Dugan’s eyes momentarily focused on her face and lucidity came back into the blue, pain-filled pools. He stared back at her and murmured, “I’ll lie still.”

“Finally,” Ellenor muttered and began to inspect his wound. It was deep and fever was sure to set in before morning. She ordered for one of the soldiers to heat their dagger in a fire and then searched her bag for a needle. She grabbed the beverage pouch from Dugan’s hand and sniffed it, verifying it was ale. She poured some over the sharp object to clean the dirt off and then waved for the blade to be brought to her.

Realizing his hand was now empty, Dugan’s mouth began to contort. Then he glanced at the gash in his lower left side. His face went green and Ellenor couldn’t blame him. The puncture was deep and ugly.

“I’m ready to die. Made peace with the idea long time ago,” he muttered, his words blurring together. “Just don’t want to die with the laird thinking I’m a coward. You’ll tell him, angel, won’t you? Tell him, I’m no coward.”

“I’ll tell him,” Ellenor promised just as she finished threading the needle. In an effort to divert his attention, she asked “How did this happen?” just as she pressed the hot metal against the wound.

Dugan managed to get out the word “spear” before his breath caught in his throat. His mouth pulled tight and a fine white line surrounded his lips. A second later, he was unconscious and Ellenor sighed in relief. It was much faster and easier to stitch a man who was not trying to attack the perpetrator of excruciating pain. Now able to take her time and ensure the stitches were even and small like Hagatha showed her, she sat back and concentrated on her task, listening to Jaime try to fill in the holes of Dugan’s story.

“We lost one,” Jaime said simply. His voice, however, made it clear how deeply he felt the absence.

“Who?” Cole demanded quietly.

“Ferris,” Jaime answered. “He was assigned to watch for your arrival and return each night with an update. When he didn’t arrive by sundown yesterday, Dugan and I knew something was wrong. I sent men to look, but they still haven’t found him.”

The only indication Cole had heard Jaime was the rigidity of his frame. Ferris had been a boy on the verge of becoming a man. His family had been wracked with loss and therefore had not been excited when their youngest son decided to join Cole and support him as a soldier. Maybe Cole should have said no, but Ferris was incredibly eager and loyal and would have jumped to do any task, including ones he should never have been assigned. Any loss was bad, but Ferris…he was one that would be mourned for some time.

Jaime felt the full weight of Cole’s silence and felt partially to blame. “I should have expected it. When I agreed to Dugan’s plan, I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking, laird. I should have realized…I should have…” Jaime stopped himself and took a deep breath to gather his thoughts before speaking again. “Leith’s cooperation goes beyond nonexistent. At night, he was sneaking into camp and building ill will amongst the ranks under my command. Dugan suggested we ride out here until your return. We weren’t hiding exactly, but neither of us thought Leith driven enough to come this far just to cause mischief. Dugan hoped that if his men were kept away from Leith’s bad influences, it would provide the time needed to regain their allegiance not to him, but to me…to you.”

Cole’s eyes shifted from Jaime down to the unconscious form and back again. He said nothing but waited for Jaime to continue.

“It seemed to be working or at least things appeared to be improving…that is, until last night. Many of the men felt protective of Ferris and believe Dugan is directly responsible for whatever happened to him.”

“He’s not the only one.” Cole’s statement was simple and direct and held no inflection, which made it even more piercing.

Jaime gulped. “Aye, laird. Aye,” he whispered. “Dugan didn’t say much but he was mad, and in the middle of the night, he left with instructions to wait for his return. An hour after sunrise, he rode into camp barely alive with a hole through his left side. It was amazing he could stay on top of his horse. A few men and I followed his blood trail to where it happened, but Leith had disappeared into the hills. It would take days to find him and so I came back to find out what happened and…well, you heard Dugan. I have been able to make no more of his mutterings than you.”

“Was he attacked by Leith?”

“Aye. It was Leith and he left enough clues he wanted us to know it.”

“Or me,” Cole sighed. He looked at the sky and raked his fingers through his loose hair. “Do you believe Dugan has been acting against me or my wishes?”

“Nay, but nor can I prove that he is a loyal supporter either.”

“Then we will have to wait.”

“For him to wake?” Jaime asked.

Cole looked at Dugan once more. “Or die,” he answered simply.

Ellenor watched Cole’s expression go void. It went blank as if all emotion had been drained from him. He was distancing himself right in front of her eyes. She wondered how far he would retreat and when he would return.

Ellenor listened and wished there were something she could say or do, but there was nothing. Cole’s blue gaze shifted and caught her staring at him with questions she wasn’t asking. He didn’t answer them, but instead posed one in return. “Are you finished?”

Ellenor swallowed and renewed her attention on Dugan’s wound. “I will be as soon as I get this poultice on. He needs to be back at Fàire Creachann, out of the cold and where he can be tended better.” She glanced at the afternoon sun. It took two hours of hard riding to get where they were and it would be several more to return, especially with Dugan needing to be carried. Traveling at night was dangerous, but it couldn’t be helped. “We’ll have to stop often so that I can check the stitches and his bleeding.”

Cole’s deep blue eyes narrowed and then he shook his head. “You’ll be returning with me. If Dugan arrives alive, you can tend him then.” He then pivoted and barked out some clipped instructions.

Ellenor considered arguing, but Jaime stared at her and gave an almost imperceptible shake to his head. “Nay, my lady. The laird is right. The man who did that is still out there and it is more important to get you back to safety. I wasn’t thinking when I asked you to come out here. I only knew if you hadn’t come…”

“Dugan would be dead,” Ellenor finished for him.

“Aye.”

She swallowed and then knelt down to finish wrapping the poultice so that it would stay on the wound. She made the bindings a little tighter than preferable, but she hoped it would provide additional support to keep the gash from reopening. By the time she was done, Cole was back by her side, helping her to stand. Wordlessly, she allowed him to guide her to her horse and help her mount. Minutes later, they were gone and Dugan’s fate was in the hands of the Lord.

The ride back was uneventful, but silent. No one felt the need to speak. In Ellenor’s case, she didn’t know what to say. They arrived and handed their weary dismounts to a sleepy stable master, who had just retired for the evening. Cole walked her to the odd-shaped tower she had guessed was the keep. He told her to go to the third floor and that he would return shortly. She nodded and watched him head across the grassy yard to the Lower Hall.

She was tempted to find Brighid and bring her up to speed. Her friend no doubt was pacing the floors, wondering what had happened and was probably fearing the worse. Unfortunately, Ellenor had no idea where she was. That was probably a blessing for Ellenor was not in the right frame of mind for company or being hammered with questions. Mostly because so many of them had no answers.

She longed for a place to organize her thoughts and consider what had been said, and even more important, what had
not
been said. For years that place had been a small lake where she enjoyed swimming in the nude. The water rushing over her skin had a calming effect that she thought unparalleled until the first night she had slept in Cole’s arms. Here, at Fàire Creachann, water surrounded her, but it was inaccessible and far from calm. The crashing waves pounded the cliffs, but the sound had a hypnotic quality and Ellenor found herself drawn to its music.

Opting to delay going inside, she moved across the yard to the open area along the wall. The thick clouds from this morning had thinned, allowing pockets of moonlight to shine through on the castle and the sea. Ellenor stared at the glittering view. Memories of her father came forward, telling her to make a wish. Tonight, she wished for many things, but most of all, she yearned to know her husband a little better.

He loved her and she him, but that singular emotion was far from insightful. Years from now, she would know what to expect and could prepare herself for his reaction. She would know if he would want to talk about his plans and, if so, when. She would know if he wanted feedback or if he would rather be left alone. A trust beyond their emotional bond would have been planted and cultivated, something only time could do. Meanwhile, she could only be herself and find out the hard way what was too little and too much. Regardless, she fully intended on being by Cole’s side, supporting him in whatever way she could. The question was, would Cole accept it?

Ellenor did not intend to interfere with his responsibilities as laird, but sitting meekly by the side was not something she could endure for long…if at all. And nothing in their short relationship gave her any insight as to how Cole planned to integrate her with his life.

Oh, how she wished she knew her husband better.

Ellenor stared at the endless sea. A strong wind coming off the An Cuan Sgìth caused her to shiver. The clouds had started to thicken again, and the masses blocked the moon, turning the area nearly pitch black. Only the sound remained. The scene was a metaphor for the events that had been unfolding for weeks.

The attack had been almost inevitable. Even who was injured could have been predicted. Dugan’s intentions had been on trying to help. That was obvious, even to the most unintelligent. His decision to move the men, however, was debatable. Then there was Leith, Dugan’s best friend. Was he still? To know, Dugan needed to survive, and if he did live, he needed to prove just whom he was loyal to…his friend or his laird. Ellenor considered the puzzle for a while, but in the end was no closer to an opinion. Loyalty to friends ran deep with these Highlanders. Cole’s promise to Robert proved that. However, honor was just as important, if not more, and Dugan had pledged his to Cole.

A bright light flickered across the yard and Ellenor glanced over her shoulder to see the hall’s door open and several men step out. Cole was among them. The door swung shut again. Cole turned and began walking toward the keep but the rest headed toward the makeshift living quarters established near the well and old kitchen. Ellenor grimaced. Donald was among those shadows and that meant Brighid’s temporary home was far from ideal.

Ellenor swung her gaze around to the keep. A light glimmered from two windows situated close to each other high along the tower wall. A fire was lit somewhere inside that room. Her and Cole’s room, a place she had yet to see.

Cole must have seen her and adjusted his stride accordingly. When he reached her side, he pulled her into his arms and held her for several seconds, as if just having her close made things better. “Come, let’s retire. On the way, I’ll tell you what I can.”

All the tension and worry of whether he would shut her out vanished with that one comment. Ellenor felt as if a large boulder that had been pressing down upon her was suddenly lifted. The need for explanations went with it. Just knowing he was willing to share was what she needed and he had given that to her.

Ellenor leaned into his side and allowed him to steer her toward the keep. “Tell me about Leith.” It was the one subject she knew the littlest about and was the most dangerous.