The Highlander Takes a Bride (18 page)

“Trust me, I will,” Saidh assured him with little humor and then roared in shocked pain and tried to buck backward as Rory suddenly thrust forward on the arrow shaft without any warning at all.

Of course, with so many holding her in place, Saidh couldn’t back away. In fact, she would have sworn that Aulay and Dougall pushed her forward into the thrust and Greer pulled her in the same direction doing the same thing. Whatever the case, pain exploded in her chest and then her back as the arrow tore through the undamaged skin there.

“It’s through!” Saidh heard Aulay bark above her bellowing. “Pull it out from yer side, Dougall.”

“Carefully, and straight out. Do no’ bend or twist it,” she heard Rory caution as her roaring turned into a whimper and blackness rushed in to claim her.

Chapter 12

G
reer eyed Dougall’s expression of grim concentration and almost held his breath as the man slowly pulled the arrow out through Saidh’s back. It seemed to him they all breathed a sigh of relief when it was done. Dougall pitched the weapon aside, and then he, Aulay and Alpin released their hold on Saidh and moved out of the way.

Greer started to lay her back on the bed then, but Rory stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Nay. Keep her upright. I need to clean and bind her both front and back,” the man said.

Greer nodded, and raised Saidh upright again. Holding her still, he gazed at her unconscious face, frowning at how pale she seemed. His gaze then shifted to her wound as Rory barked orders to the others to hand him strips of the clean linen Conran had fetched. While there had been little blood when the arrow was still present, there was certainly blood now. It was as if the arrow had acted as a cork in a bottle, now that the cork had been removed, blood was pouring out a thick, dark red and Rory was pressing linen into the wound both front and back trying to staunch the flow.

“She’ll be a’ right, will she no’?” Greer asked with concern as he watched the man work.

“Aye. She’s strong,” Rory said reassuringly, throwing the already blood soaked swatches aside and grabbing the fresh ones Niels held out. “The bleeding is already slowing.”

It didn’t look that way to Greer, but he held his tongue and merely watched as Rory continued to press linens against her wounds.

“Did ye put the tincture in the water as I ordered?” Rory asked, lifting up the edge of the linen he’d pressed to the front of her wound and then pressing it firmly back again.

“Aye,” Niels assured him. “Six drops.”

Rory nodded. “Then dip two folded linens in it, but do no’ wring them out ere ye give them to me. I’ll need to clean the wound ere I sew her up.”

“Are ye all right, me laird?” Alpin asked suddenly.

Greer glanced to the boy with surprise. “Aye. O’ course.”

His squire merely looked dubious at the claim. “Ye’re looking pale enough I’d think ye were the one losing the blood.”

The comment made Rory glance sharply at Greer and the man frowned. “If ye’re going to faint, let Aulay take o’er holding up Saidh and—”

“I’m fine,” Greer snapped, sitting a little straighter and tightening his hold on Saidh. He was feeling a bit off, but was damned if he was going to faint away like a puling woman in front of these men. He was just alarmed at how much blood Saidh was losing. It seemed a hell of a lot to him.

Rory eyed him for a moment longer, then merely turned his attention back to Saidh. After a moment, he replaced the now blood red and sodden linens with the tincture-soaked ones Niels gave him. As he pressed the wet material to her wound, he muttered, “ ’Tis good she’s sleeping fer this. This tincture stings like a son o’ a bitch and the sewing up part would no’ be a pleasure to endure either.”

Greer merely grunted and shifted his gaze to Saidh’s face. Her head was lolling back, her face upraised as if waiting for a kiss and he gently pressed one to her lips, then leaned his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. He had no desire to see Rory pressing a needle and thread into her flesh and back out again. Whether she would feel it or not, he suspected he would if he watched, so kept his eyes closed and merely held her silently as Rory finished cleaning and then began to sew the wound.

Judging by the shuffle of feet moving away from the bed, Greer was not the only one who had no desire to watch this part of the procedure and found it ironic that warriors like himself and these men could be so squeamish about mending a body, when they had no issue with causing such injuries. That thought brought him back to the question he hadn’t allowed himself to consider ere this. Who had shot Saidh with the arrow?

“Did ye see who shot her?” Aulay asked suddenly, his thoughts apparently turning in the same direction.

Greer opened his eyes and lifted his head, but steadfastly refused to look to see what Rory was doing as he answered, “Nay. She raced off and left me by the loch, pleating me plaid. I found her lying on the path moments later when I gave chase. There was no one around, jest her and her mare.”

“Could it ha’e been bandits?” Dougall asked.

Greer considered that, but frowned. “I suppose. But Bowie has no’ mentioned any issues with bandits around here, and if ’twas bandits, they were brazen. Where I found her was no’ far from the castle. Another hundred feet and she’d ha’e been out o’ the woods in full view o’ the men on the wall.”

“Conran, go fetch Greer’s first so he can ask him if they’ve had trouble with bandits of late,” Aulay ordered.

Greer didn’t comment on the order. While he was sure Bowie would have mentioned such an issue if there was one, it was better to be certain. Besides, he wanted to have him send men out to search the woods for any clue as to who may have done this. Chances were they wouldn’t find anything. It wasn’t as if the culprit would have left a scroll with a signed confession lying about, but they may have dropped something or . . . hell, he just didn’t know what else to do.

“Do ye really think ’twas bandits?” Niels asked and Greer could hear the doubt in his voice.

“Nay,” Aulay said on a sigh. “They’d gain nothing from shooting her except drawing attention to their presence.”

“Mayhap she came upon them in the woods and they feared she’d give their presence away anyhow,” Alick suggested.

“Then they’d be more likely to take her than shoot her on the spot,” Dougall growled. “That way they’d have something to ransom, or a good raping at the very least.”

Geordie snorted at the suggestion. “Rape our Saidh? She’d ha’e gutted them fer trying.”

“It had to ha’e been bandits,” Alick said suddenly. “Who else would want to hurt our Saidh?”

Greer peered at his wife, his arms tightening instinctively around her. His mind was stuck on Dougall’s comment about the bandits raping her. The idea was an appalling one: this strong, passionate woman held down and raped by a group of filthy bandits. He was quite sure Geordie was right and Saidh would gut a villain or two did they try, but if there were a lot of them, or they took her by surprise, or if they even just got lucky, she could have been overcome.

He shuddered at the thought, suspecting that for a woman as strong and proud as Saidh, such an attack would leave her broken in spirit as well as body. Greer would rather suffer the tortures of hell than witness such an eventuality.

“There.”

Greer glanced around at Rory’s weary comment to see that he’d finished not only sewing the injuries closed, but had bandaged her as well while Greer was lost in his thoughts.

“Ye can lay her down, now,” Rory said as he shifted off of her and got off the bed.

Greer hesitated, oddly reluctant to let her go, but then sighed and lay her gently back on the bed, only to stiffen and frown when he saw the state the bed was in. While someone had thought to push the furs down the bed and out of the way, both the upper and lower linen were now soaked with blood and the water with the smelly tincture in it.

“Hey!” Alpin cried in surprise when Greer suddenly scooped Saidh and the top linen off the bed, leaving him uncovered.

“The bed has to be changed ere ye both sleep,” Greer announced as he turned and strode across the room. “Bundle yerself up in the furs and come sit by the fire until ’tis done.”

“Alick—” Aulay began.

“I’ll fetch some maids to change the bed,” Alick said before Aulay could finish giving the order.

Greer merely grunted a “thanks” as he settled in one of the chairs by the fire and arranged Saidh in his lap. He wasn’t leaving her side until she was up and about and well again, and then he would only leave her side if at least two of his men—no four, four of his men were there to guard her. He wasn’t going to risk losing his bride again. Today was the last day she would suffer harm in any way.

Saidh opened her eyes with a little sigh and peered at the sleeping boy beside her. Alpin, she realized. Lying on his side facing her and sound asleep. The boy looked sweet as could be in repose. One could almost forget the pain in the arse he could be when awake, she thought, and smiled faintly, only to frown in the next moment as it occurred to her to wonder what the boy was doing in her bed.

“Oh, there ye are. Ye’re awake.”

Saidh followed that voice to the woman seated in a chair on Alpin’s side of the bed. Lady MacDonnell was leaning forward in the seat, beaming at her as if she’d just done something incredibly clever by opening her eyes.

“M’lady,” Saidh said uncertainly, and then her eyes widened slightly as her gaze slid past the woman and she took note that she wasn’t in her room, but the master bedchamber.

“I thought we’d agreed ye’d call me Aunt Tilda,” Lady MacDonnell said gently and then tilted her head and frowned slightly. “Ye look confused, dearling.”

“I—aye, I am,” Saidh admitted almost apologetically. “Why am I—” She started to turn on her back, intending to sit up, but stopped abruptly when her movement sent pain shooting through her arm and chest. She glanced toward the shoulder where the pain seemed to be situated, but all she could see was the heavy cloth of what she guessed was a sleeping gown.

“Oh dear, I fear that knock ye took to the head may ha’e done some damage,” Lady MacDonnell said, sounding concerned.

Saidh glanced to her with amazement. “Knock to the head?”

“Aye. Yer brother, competent as I am sure he is, was so busy tending yer shoulder he ne’er e’en looked to see if there was aught else wrong with ye. It was my Helen who found the bump on yer head. Ye must ha’e hit it as ye fell from yer mount,” she added with a frown. “I can’t imagine that whoever shot ye troubled themselves to then kosh ye in the head too.”

“Shot,” Saidh breathed, her memory returning. Someone had shot an arrow into her as she was heading back to the castle. She’d woken up here in the master bedchamber where Rory had forced the arrow through her back and . . . well, she must have fainted. She didn’t recall anything after that.

“Are ye remembering now?” Aunt Tilda asked with concern. “Ye look as if ye might be.”

“Aye,” Saidh smiled at her weakly and relaxed back onto her uninjured side in the bed. “Someone shot me with an arrow as I was returning to the keep and Rory removed it.”

“Good, good.” Aunt Tilda smiled and sat back in her seat again. “Head wounds can be so tricky and then ye’ve slept fer so long . . . for a moment I feared it had done some permanent damage.”

“How long was I sleeping?” Saidh asked curiously.

“Three nights and two days,” Lady MacDonnell said solemnly. “This is the third morning, and I can tell ye we’ve all been worried sick. Why, Greer refused to leave yer side the first two nights and days. Last night, though, I insisted he go find some sleep. As I pointed out, it would do little good if ye woke up only to have him drop across ye with exhaustion and relief the minute ye opened yer eyes. I promised to send for him though if ye woke while he was no’ here, so I guess I’d best—”

“Nay! Wait,” Saidh protested when Lady MacDonnell stood and moved toward the door. When she paused and glanced back with surprise, Saidh hesitated, but then flushed and admitted, “I ha’e to relieve meself and I’d rather—”

“Oh, o’ course ye do. Where is me head?” Lady MacDonnell muttered, rushing back to the bed. “Why ye must be full to burstin’ after sleeping so long. Shall I fetch a basin, or do ye think ye can manage the garderobe do I help ye?”

“The garderobe,” Saidh said, though she wasn’t at all sure she could manage it. Still, it was that or here in the room with Alpin in bed next to her. Even the thought of that was too distressing to bear, so she took a deep breath and forced herself upward on the bed into a sitting position. It was harder than she’d expected and not just because of the pain it sent shooting through her chest and arm either. She was alarmingly weak after so long asleep, or perhaps it was the blood loss, she thought as Lady MacDonnell bent to help her sit up.

“All right?” Aunt Tilda asked once they had her sitting up in bed.

Saidh hesitated, waiting for her pain to ease and the room to stop spinning. Dear Lord, she felt like hell: weak, nauseous and she was starting to sweat just from the effort to sit up. How the devil was she supposed to make it to the garderobe? She wasn’t even sure she was going to make it to her feet.

Apparently, Lady MacDonnell had some doubt that she could manage it as well, because she suddenly said, “Helen left a basin. Perhaps we should just—”

“Nay. I’m fine,” Saidh said determinedly and then forced a smile. At least she hoped it was a smile. It felt more like a grimace on her face. Setting her teeth, Saidh held her breath and shifted her feet off the bed, so she was sitting on the side of it. Relieved to manage that part so easily, she smiled at Aunt Tilda. “If ye could just . . .”

She let her words trail away. Lady MacDonnell was already shifting to a half crouch beside her to draw her good arm over her shoulder.

“On three,” Aunt Tilda said and then counted off. When she reached three, Saidh lunged upward even as Lady MacDonnell pulled.

“There,” Lady MacDonnell gasped, once they were both upright.

Saidh merely grunted and closed her eyes. The room was spinning like crazy now and she was quite sure she was swaying on her feet.

“Are ye sure ye’d no’ rather I fetch the basin and—”

“Nay,” Saidh interrupted, forcing her eyes open and sucking in a deep breath to steady herself. “I can do this.”

Aunt Tilda didn’t argue, she simply waited until Saidh started to shuffle forward and moved with her, taking as much of her weight as she could.

The master bedchamber was a good-sized room, but it had never seemed as large to Saidh as it did that morning as she struggled to get out of it. Dear God, the walk to the door seemed like miles, and getting there seemed to take forever, but they did finally reach it. When they paused for Aunt Tilda to open the door, Saidh reached out to press her hand on the wall and lean against it as she tried to catch her breath. She was panting as if she’d just run all the way from the loch, and her back, her whole body, was damp with sweat.