The Highlander’s Bride Trouble Read online

  Saer slid off his stallion and crouched down to look at the wheel. Cut stones had spilled out of the two-wheeled cart, and he couldn’t resist running a hand over one. The work was perfect.

  “Laird MacLeod?”

  Saer turned his head and found the Ross captain behind him. “Aye.” He began to rise, but the man struck as he was moving.

  He saw the flash of morning sun on the blade of a short sword the man was gripping behind his leg. Saer threw himself away from it, but there wasn’t time to escape completely. The sharp metal slid into his side, leaving a red-hot trail as it sank into his flesh.

  “A token of gratitude from the earl for leaving his daughter in the hands of Bastian MacKay!”

  Saer let out a roar that had Kael jumping into action. Every Ross was ready to fight, their ambush well planned. Baruch snarled and pulled his sword free, jumping forward to place himself in front of Saer and drive the Ross captain back. Saer heard the sound of swords locking before Baruch buried his blade deep in the Ross captain’s chest.

  “That’s what we do with men who attack without warning!” Baruch yelled.

  The Ross weren’t ready to give up, but the Grant retainers fought them back fiercely. Saer whistled for his stallion, the animal responding quickly in spite of the fray going on.

  He could feel the blood spilling down his side, feel his strength pouring out of him along with it. Men screamed as he hooked his hand into the saddle and swung his leg over the back of the animal.

  He barely made it into the saddle and slumped forward, unable to straighten his body. Kael’s men surrounded him, but they were outnumbered. Behind him, he could hear someone ringing the bells on the outer wall frantically, but they’d all be dead by the time men arrived from the castle.

  The Ross had planned their attack well.

  But they also had no wish to die. The Ross suddenly bolted, fleeing back to their horses and into the woods. Kael gave a cry and sent his men after them.

  It was the last thing he saw clearly before his vision began to fade and he turned his horse toward the castle.

  ***

  Nareen had just sat down at the high table when she heard the bells. Their frantic tempo chilled her blood. She ran back down the aisle and through the large arched doorway that led to the open yard.

  The masons were pushed off to the side of the inner yard as men and horses tried to form into lines. Everywhere there were boys struggling with saddles and bridles. Too many of those preparing to mount were only youths.

  A commotion started at the gate between the two yards. She saw her brother and his men pushing their way through. They carried someone. Horror filled her as she realized it was Saer.

  His shirt was soaked with blood, the creamy linen a terrifying crimson. Even his kilt was stained dark and glistened in the morning sun. Kael and his men hurried to bring him up the stairs and into the tower. She swallowed her horror.

  “Make way!” she yelled at the women behind her. They scurried to clear a path as Saer was carried through the doorway.

  “Nareen.”

  His voice was edged with pain and his eyes framed with creases. His was reaching for her, his fingers seeking hers.

  She put her hand into his and gasped at the strength of his grip.

  “A priest,” he gasped as the motion of being moved sent more pain through his ravaged body.

  She mustn’t cry.

  “Yes. I will get Father Peter.”

  But Saer didn’t release her. He pulled her closer. “Wed me.”

  “What?” She was struggling to keep up and stay in place beside him while his men carried him. “Now is nae the time…”

  “Now is the only time!” he exclaimed. “Stop!”

  His men didn’t listen to him. They bore him up the stairs and into his chamber, and he dragged her along by his grip on her hand.

  “Do nae…let our child be…bastard-born…”

  “I’m nae with child,” she said numbly.

  “Ye could be.” His voice was failing, his pallor turning gray. “Wed me.”

  “Ye need last rites,” she argued.

  There was a flutter of sackcloth in the doorway, relieving her. Father Peter was making his way through the crowd, trying to organize help for their laird.

  “Father Peter is here, ye must take yer last rites, Saer.”

  “Wed us,” he growled, but his voice was weakening. “Ye could be…with child… I cannae face God knowing I left it…bastard-born.”

  The look in his eyes was determined. Tears escaped her eyes as she saw his strength fading while she watched.

  “As ye wish,” she relented, horrified by the fact that she was granting his last request.

  But it filled his eyes with satisfaction. She stared into them as Father Peter married them. Trying to absorb the last moments of the man she loved.

  “Ye are now married,” the priest informed them.

  Saer looked at the priest, and Father Peter nodded to confirm the deed was done. He looked over to where Kael stood, and received another nod. By the time he looked back at her, his fingers were going slack, his body relaxing until he was limp.

  She let her tears fall, and someone moved her back. The solemn tones of the priest intoning last rites mixed with the sharp commands of those trying to tend to his wounds.

  But it was likely a useless fight.

  Seven

  “I doubt he’ll live to see dawn.” The barber surgeon was an old man. He looked at Saer, seeking something else to do, but there was nothing. He gathered up his tools and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder before leaving the chamber.

  “Perhaps…ye are with child?” he asked her hopefully before making his way toward the door on shuffled steps that echoed because of how silent everyone was.

  Saer’s captains were clustered near the door, and he gestured them out with his old hands. Once their footsteps faded, the chamber was left in silence. Even the yard was free of noise as everyone waited on word of their laird.

  Nareen moved slowly toward the bed. The wound was stitched and bound, but she could still smell the scent of fresh blood. Saer was a ghastly shade of gray, his lips bloodless. Someone had covered his lower body with a length of MacLeod plaid and laid his sword by his right side.

  As a Highlander should be when he met his end.

  No. She wouldn’t let him die.

  She pulled one of the heavy chairs over to the bed and sat beside him. She lifted the bedding off the floor and covered him. Rubbing warmth back into his hands as the day crept by so slowly. There wasn’t a single chisel strike to be heard, only silence and the shallow breaths Saer seemed to struggle to take.

  Kael came at last. He stood behind her, but she refused to turn to him. She lifted her head from where she’d rested it on the bed.

  “I do nae need comfort; he is nae going to die. Ye do nae know how strong he is.”

  “It was an ambush,” he told her at last. “Those bloody Ross wanted blood for Abigail’s plight.”

  “At least…I did nae…pay…for the…stone.”

  Nareen gasped and turned to find Saer’s eyes half-open. He reached for her hand, but his motions were slow and clumsy. She clasped his hand, smiling though her eyes were glassy.

  “I’m happy to say we hauled every last stone into the outer yard and even kept the carts,” Kael informed Saer.

  “Good.” His voice slurred. “Water…”

  She hurried to fill a cup from the pitcher on the trestle table. Kael helped lift Saer so he might drink from the goblet. He swallowed only a few mouthfuls before going limp again.

  “Ye see, Kael? I told ye.”

  Her brother only laid a hand on her shoulder. She fought back tears and tried not to think about how much experience Kael had with battle wo
unds.

  She’d not lose hope.

  It was a wife’s duty to keep hope alive.

  ***

  Fate decided to be kind to her. Saer lived through the day and into the night. Nareen slept sitting in the chair with her head beside him. In the darkest hours of the night, she felt his hands in her hair. She opened her eyes to see him watching her.

  “The silver is beneath the corner stone…” He gestured across the chamber behind her.

  “What silver?”

  He managed a weak grin. “It’s there. The Sutherlands returned part of me sister’s dowry, since it was so great and we had nothing.”

  “That’s how ye were going to pay for the stone.”

  He nodded. She reached for the goblet and helped him drink from it.

  “There is enough…for ye…if ye are wise…”

  “I won’t need to be,” Nareen insisted gently. “Ye will be here to help guide me.”

  He tried to reach for her cheek, but lacked the strength to lift his hand from the bed. His eyes slid shut, and she stifled a sob.

  ***

  The church bells woke her.

  Dawn was brightening the horizon and warming the air.

  She frowned, realizing the heat wasn’t coming from the sun. It came from Saer. She reached for his brow and sucked in her breath.

  His body was flushed with fever.

  She hurried out to the terrazzino and pulled up cool water from the loch to bathe him with. When Agnes arrived with food, Nareen left it untouched.

  But some time later, there was a scratching at the door, and then a scuffed step on the floor. Agnes held the door open for Maud, as two other women followed the old woman. One held a steaming kettle, and another had a basket over her arm and a large wooden bowl in her hands.

  “Agnes says there’s fever.”

  Nareen nodded.

  The old woman pointed at the trestle table. The basket and bowl were set before her.

  “Ye were nae taught healing arts,” the old woman muttered as she rummaged through the basket, pulling several things out and putting them in the bowl.

  “Me mother died when I was three,” Nareen answered. “I was taught to stitch and bind wounds, and some medicine. Little really.”

  Maud nodded. “Me mother was a healer, even if the Church liked to tell her only God had such power. She used to say God had given her wits to know how to use what he’d created. She knew every plant in the forest.”

  She directed Agnes to crush what she’d put in the bowl. “Time has stolen the strength from me fingers, but not the knowledge from me head.”

  There was a crunching sound. Maud nodded approvingly and pointed at the kettle. “Just a bit, to form a paste.”

  Agnes used a wooden paddle to mix it.

  “Unbind that wound,” Maud directed.

  Nareen used the pair of sewing scissors and sliced the fabric away.

  “I can smell it festering,” Maud informed them. She moved over to look at the wound. “But it is nae too bad.”

  She spread the paste over the line of stitches. “Bind it again. Tonight, we’ll wash it off and apply more.”

  She shuffled back over to her basket and took out a small bundle of cloth. It was only as big as her thumb and tied with a cord.

  “Steep this until the water is dark. It will ease the pain if ye can get him to drink it.”

  Nareen took it and placed it in the goblet. Agnes added hot water.

  “I’ll come again tonight.”

  It was such a simple statement, but it offered her a morsel of hope. That slender hope became almost too hard to hold on to as the day progressed and Saer didn’t open his eyes again. But she couldn’t give up.

  To do so would to be to give up on her very life.

  She suddenly stood, unable to bear the silence. The first few steps were the hardest, but she went through the door and down the steps until she stood in the double arch opening at the base of the keep.

  People looked up, standing out of respect, for they thought she was there to tell them their laird was dead. Women covered their mouths with their hands, steeling themselves for bad news. She drew in a deep breath to steady her voice.

  “Build,” she commanded them.

  Frowns marred the faces of those watching as many of the masons looked to one another to decipher her reasoning.

  “Build,” she repeated louder. “Yer laird has a vision for the MacLeod, one he offers ye all a place in. Lay stone and let him hear that ye have no’ abandoned his dream. Let him hear that the Ross have no’ stopped us from doing what we will.”

  There were nods and then more nods before men started to walk toward the half-finished walls. The first sounds of chiseling filled her with relief. It grew louder when she reentered the chamber, because the doors were open to the terrazzino.

  She nodded with satisfaction and returned to the chair.

  “We’re…well matched.”

  Saer’s voice was thin and his eyes only open a slit. She lifted the cup to his lips, supporting his neck as he took some of the brew Maud had left.

  “Aye, we are,” she confirmed when he’d settled back down. “So do nae plan on leaving me.”

  The crane began to groan outside in the yard. A dull sound of wood and rope. Saer turned toward it, his lips lifting into a half smile before he drifted off into unconsciousness again.

  ***

  The bells on the wall began ringing in the middle of the next day.

  There was a rushed, hurried step on the stone outside the chamber. Someone pushed in the doors. Nareen looked up as Baruch made it three full strides into the bedchamber before he remembered to tug on the corner of his cap. His attention was on Saer. He stared at his laird’s chest, making the sign of the cross over himself when he realized Saer still drew breath.

  He turned as soon as the information finished moving through his brain, leaving her alone.

  The bells stopped, but Nareen went to the archways and out onto the terrazzino to look into the yard. She hadn’t thought she could feel any worse, but below her, were two neat columns of Grant riders arriving.

  There could be only one reason they were there. Her father had not been well for many years.

  Kael met them. The captain dismounted and ran up to her brother, tugged on his cap, and leaned in close to speak.

  What terrified her was the way the man reached out and clasped Kael on the shoulder.

  Her belly knotted, and she turned to walk toward the door. She stepped into the hallway as she heard her brother’s boots making firm sounds on the stone. His head came into view, and he paused when he found her waiting for him.

  His expression tightened, and he bore down on her. He hesitated again before speaking.

  “Say what must be said,” she instructed him.

  He nodded. “Father has suffered a brain seizure. He is nae expected to survive much longer.”

  She stiffened, longing for Saer’s embrace, for it was the only safe place she could think of.

  But there would be no comfort from her husband.

  “Ye must go, Kael.”

  Her brother shook his head. “I’ll nae abandon ye again, Nareen.”

  “Go home, Kael. Ye must be a son now. Nae a brother.”

  Her brother frowned at her. Nareen drew in a breath.

  “I mean it, go home.”

  “Ye should be at father’s side as well,” he answered.

  “Saer has no one else to be at his side.” She nodded. “Me place is here.”

  Something flickered in her brother’s eyes, and she realized it was doubt. Nareen lifted her chin.

  “I am a woman, Kael. Me place is here by me husband’s side, and yers is by our father’s. We were both
taught our duty, and the time has come to see it done.”

  Her brother’s complexion darkened. “Aye.” But he reached out and captured her hand, gripping it with his larger one. “Ye have a place on Grant land, and I swear I will nae make any match for ye.”

  It was his solemn vow. She heard it in his tone and witnessed it in his dark eyes.

  “Thank ye.”

  Kael shook his head. “Never thank me for doing what I should have. Ye cannae absolve me of failing to protect ye, Nareen. No one can.”

  There was a finality in his tone that tore at her heart. She understood his rage, shared a deep understanding of the pain that ate at him. Feeling one’s own confidence shred was worse than any pain inflicted by another.

  “I hope ye forgive yerself someday, Kael, for I have. Know I am happy here.”

  He jerked, making a hiss as he pulled his breath through gritted teeth. He wanted to argue; she saw it flicker in his eyes. But he offered her only a nod before turning and striding down the passageway.

  She felt him leaving as much as she saw it happening. But there was something else, something stronger pulling her back into the chamber where Saer fought against fate’s desire to tug him away from life.

  It was a battle, too.

  His body was bathed in perspiration, and he jerked as he struggled to wake. She moved closer, picking up a cloth and pushing it into a bowl of water.

  “Shh…” she cooed softly and stroked his forehead with the cool cloth. “There are times ye must be at peace, my love.”

  Her voice was choked with tears, but it didn’t matter, for there was no one there for her to worry about seeing her weakness. She let the tears slide down her cheeks as she rinsed the cloth.

  “Do nae weep…”

  She jumped, afraid Saer had lost his battle in those moments she’d looked away. But his eyes were open, glittering with all the raw determination he always seemed to have.

  “Say…say it…again…”

  He was struggling to keep his eyes open, the muscle along his jaw twitching.