My Daring Highlander (12 page)

Something struck the ground
nearby.
An arrow?

“We’re being shot at!” Keegan glanced
up at the cliffs above them and saw a figure with a bow drawn.
“’Tis an ambush!” Keegan yelled, raising his targe and urging Curry
forward, between Seona and the outlaws. “Archers!”

Their archers leapt to their feet and
took up positions. A few fired arrows up toward the
cliffs.

Dirk dismounted and slapped his horse
on the rump. “Escort the women further along and take cover behind
those boulders,” he told Keegan.

“I’ll protect them with my life,”
Keegan said.

“I thank you, cousin.” Dirk directed
five more of the guards to help Keegan.

Much as he’d love to be at the
forefront, fighting the knaves, Keegan knew protecting the women
was the main goal.

“Haldane may come after you because
he’s wanting to kidnap Seona,” Dirk said.

“Aye. That bastard,” Keegan muttered,
motioning for the women to precede him and head for cover. “Get
behind the boulders.” Once they were beyond the range of Haldane’s
archers, he and the guards helped them dismount.

Keegan stood peering out, the women
and most of the horses behind him. Aside from Keegan, MacMillan,
and four other guards, the rest of the men were fighting beside
Dirk.

“Surround the women,” Keegan told the
guards with him. “The outlaws may try to sneak up from behind
again.”

“What do you see?” Isobel asked. “Is
Dirk safe?”

“Aye. Naught is happening yet.” At
least, nothing that he could see. The outlaws were no doubt doing
something sneaky. Keegan wanted to be standing beside Dirk, ready
to take down Haldane if he came close. The weasel was likely too
afraid to face Dirk and fight hand to hand. Haldane was no match
for him, anyway, and he knew it. He’d have his archers do most of
the work. But they would run out of arrows eventually.

Keegan glanced around, making certain
no one had circled behind them. He had to keep on high alert
because Haldane had a powerful obsession for Seona, and he couldn’t
lose her at all costs.

Facing forward again, he noticed the
movement of plaid behind a bush off to the side, near Dirk and the
others.

“To the left!” he called
out.

Dirk shifted his focus. “Come out, wee
cowards, and fight like men,” he yelled.

More than a dozen men broke
from the bushes, charging Dirk and his guards.
’Slud!
Haldane’s force was far bigger
than last time, making the two sides more evenly matched. Where the
devil had Haldane found more men? Some were several years older
than most of Haldane’s gang.

Keegan cursed, annoyed he couldn’t
join in and help protect the chief. Although, clearly, his cousin
could protect himself. He dealt two of them killing thrusts with
his sword.

The gray-haired McMurdo engaged Dirk
in swordplay. Dirk was the stronger fighter and he drove McMurdo
back, while the other guards fought the remaining
outlaws.

A movement up the hill caught Keegan’s
attention. One of the younger men in Haldane’s party, Gil, drew
back his bow.

“Dirk! Up the hill!” Keegan
shouted.

Just after Gil released the bow
string, Dirk leapt to the side. The arrow struck Dirk’s lower
leg.

“Iosa is Muire
Mhàthair,”
Keegan muttered.

McMurdo came back after
Dirk.

“Damn the old bastard,” Keegan
muttered, yearning to charge forward.

“What is happening?” Isobel asked
behind him. “Is Dirk hurt?”

“Shh.” Keegan waved her back. There
was naught she could do about his injury now. If he allowed her to
get hurt, Dirk would string him up.

Rebbie moved in to help Dirk, beating
McMurdo back. But Dirk was holding his own despite the arrow
protruding from his calf.

Two more of Haldane’s men fell beneath
the blades of the MacKay guards, both of them too young to be
seasoned warriors. Keegan knew them, for they had both been part of
the MacKay clan before Haldane had gone rogue and led the other
lads astray.

Where was Haldane, anyway?

Keegan surveyed the area around
himself and beyond. “Keep alert,” he told the guards.

Five men emerged from behind a rock
formation several yards behind them. Haldane led the charge, his
long red hair flying back in the breeze, his teeth bared in a
snarl, and his green eyes glinting with pure bloodlust.

“There!” Keegan told the
guards.

Placing the women between himself and
the boulders, Keegan assumed the guard stance. In passing, he
noticed knives in both Seona’s and Isobel’s hands. He hoped they
could protect themselves if need be. But he didn’t want it to come
to that.

Haldane avoided him and engaged one of
the other guards in swordplay. Coward.

Keegan had never before seen the
scraggly man who ran toward him. Though he looked scrawny, the
first blow from his sword was passable. Keegan was faster and
stronger and three strikes later, he ran the man through the
abdomen. He shrieked and collapsed, writhing in pain. After
disarming him, Keegan turned his attention to the other outlaws.
One of the guards had already cut one of the knave’s throats.
Haldane and the other two turned tail and ran the way they’d
come.

He couldn’t believe what cowards they
were. “Come back, you bastards!” Keegan yelled. He wanted to finish
the three of them off.

Once they’d disappeared from sight
like terrified rabbits, he glanced back toward where Dirk and the
other men were fighting.

Despite his injury, Dirk was still
slashing and thrusting.

His blade sliced McMurdo’s shoulder
and the older man jumped back. Then he fled.

Twenty feet away, he turned back and
yelled for the other men to retreat. He obviously knew the outlaws
were on the losing side of the skirmish now, even with the
reinforcements they’d found along the way.

Rebbie chased after McMurdo, but the
old man was quicker than he looked. A few of the other brigands
fled to the left, down an embankment and through the
bushes.

“Is Dirk hurt?” Isobel demanded,
sidling up to him.

Since the outlaws were gone, he could
reveal the truth. Still, he grabbed her arm so she wouldn’t go
running out there too soon. “An arrow struck his calf.”

“What? Oh good lord!” She tried to
jerk away from him. “Unhand me, Keegan.”

Dirk limped in their direction, his
face red, eyes wild and jaw clenched.

Keegan released Isobel. Making sure
Seona was beside him for her own safety, he moved toward Dirk.
Isobel fussed over him, crying.

“Calm yourself, Isobel. ’Tis naught to
worry over. Merely a flesh wound,” Dirk said, his voice rough. He
was obviously trying to hide his pain.

“How do you feel?” Keegan asked
him.

“I’ll live.”

“How will we remove it?” Isobel
asked.

“Rebbie will do it. Go over there with
the ladies so you don’t have to watch. I don’t want you to pass
out.”

“Are you mad? I’ll not be passing
out.”

“Keegan, make her stay with Lady
Seona.”

“Lady Isobel.” Keegan motioned toward
the boulders.

“Don’t make the man have to carry you,
Isobel,” Dirk said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’ve had
far worse injuries than this.”

She huffed, her eyes glistening with
tears, then proceeded back toward the boulder with
Seona.

Keegan followed. “He will be well, I’m
certain.”

“But he could get infection and
fever,” she said, trying to suppress her sobs.

Behind them, Dirk growled and Isobel
turned to run back toward him. Keegan caught her arm and ushered
her once again toward Seona. “Removing the arrow will be painful,
no doubt,” Keegan said. He’d never been shot with an arrow so
couldn’t say from experience, but it had to hurt something awful.
He glanced back to see Dirk lying on the rocky ground and Rebbie
knelt over him, working on his leg. The two had fought battles on
the continent together and had been treating each other’s wounds
for years.

“I want to kill Haldane and his
damnable archer,” Isobel muttered, striding forward, a glower on
her face.

“As do I,” Keegan said.

Isobel and Seona sat together on one
of the rocks beside the wide-eyed and pale Lady Patience, while
Keegan and the other guards kept watch for returning outlaws.
Several men stood around Dirk, mostly blocking Isobel’s view of his
bloody leg. He could certainly understand Dirk’s need to keep her
shielded from most of it, although she had never seemed squeamish
to him.

He was glad to see she took some
comfort from having Seona by her side as she watched the
proceedings from a distance. Seona was also a bit pale. Her worried
gaze met his.

“He will recover quickly,” Keegan
said. How could he not? He was one of the strongest and most
resilient men Keegan knew.

“Aye, he will,” Seona said, putting an
arm around Isobel’s shoulders and comforting her. “All will be
well.”

A quarter hour later, Dirk’s calf was
bound in linen cloths, most likely someone’s clean shirt that had
been ripped up, and most of the bleeding had stopped. Rebbie had
poured whisky on it along with some powdered healing herbs he
carried with him. Dirk pushed himself to his feet, though his face
was ashen.

Isobel ran to him and slipped an arm
around his waist. “Lean on me. Don’t put any weight on your right
leg.”

“Don’t fash yourself. I am well.” He
limped forward, gritting his teeth.

“You are lying,” Isobel
accused.

“Naught a wee dram of whisky won’t
cure.”

“You’re in luck. I have some,” Keegan
said, digging into one of the packs on his horse.

After Dirk had two generous swigs of
whisky, he hoisted himself into the saddle using his uninjured leg.
Everyone else followed suit.

Keegan helped Seona mount again and
they were on their way.

He divided his attention between
Seona, Dirk and the surrounding cliffs. He had to make sure Seona
was safe, but at the same time, his concern for Dirk grew. Riding
the horse had to be jarring his injured leg and causing severe
pain. His skin remained pale and his jaw clenched. He couldn’t
drink enough whisky to kill the pain and stay in the saddle at the
same time.

Isobel was right to worry about the
infection and fever. ’Twould be the worst part to get
through.

***

After riding a couple of hours, they
reached Ullapool, a wee village on the bay of Loch
Broom.

“Is there an inn here?” Keegan
asked.

“Nay.” Dirk was sweating and pale when
he dismounted, which concerned Keegan a great deal. And ’twas clear
he was holding his breath half the time. “One of Isobel’s distant
cousins, Linden MacKenzie, owns that manor house, there.” Dirk
pointed at a thatched-roof, whitewashed structure, much larger than
a cottage, yet not as large as a castle. “He has a shipping
business, transporting goods from the ports down south out to the
islands.”

“You need to lie down, cousin,” Keegan
told him.

“Aye. And a half-pint of whisky
wouldn’t hurt either.”

Keegan sent one of the guards to
purchase more whisky while Dirk, Isobel, Rebbie and a few of the
others went to speak to her cousin about their party staying the
night.

Rebbie returned, reporting that
Isobel’s cousin had welcomed them to stay and had four empty rooms
with beds for their use.

The women disappeared inside the manor
house, as did Dirk and Rebbie. MacMillan carried Lady Patience
inside because of her wrenched ankle.

Keegan and most of the other men
waited outside, on the lookout for Haldane or any of his party who
might have followed. Since Keegan didn’t know the new men Haldane
had enlisted, ’twas even harder to spot the knaves. He simply
didn’t allow anyone near the house. The five-foot stone wall around
it might deter petty thieves, but it was too low to provide much
defense. The wooden gate was sturdy but open. Hopefully, it would
be locked at night. If someone wanted to attack, ’twould be too
easy to take over the house. Their guards would have to take shifts
tonight, securing the perimeter.

The door of the manor house opened.
MacMillan exited and approached him, a frown contorting his dark
brows. “Lady Isobel wishes to see you inside.”

Saints.
Was Dirk worse?

“You and the other guards need to
secure the perimeter of the house,” Keegan said.

“Aye, we’ll be on the lookout for the
bastards.”

Keegan strode toward the entry, and a
servant opened the door.

Isobel awaited him, just inside. She
was pale, her brown eyes too large. “Dirk wishes to speak with you
upstairs.”