“I hope Da doesna send the guards to hunt the beast hiding in this thicket,” she teased as she sat up and flipped her skirts back down in place.
Sutherland winked. “We’ll tell them I fought it off with my bare hands, aye?”
“Aye, my brave warrior.” She started to lay back down beside him but stopped herself. He’d said the wagons were packed, and everyone was ready to leave as soon as they returned to the keep. A wave of homesickness washed across her, chasing away the joy of just moments ago. Jenny was coming with them, but Da would be left behind. All alone. She hated the thought of leaving him.
“He will be all right, mo chridhe.”
Sometimes, she swore Sutherland was one of the touched because the man seemed able to read her mind. She looked down at him, still stretched out, with his hands clasped behind his head. “I know he’ll be all right. It’s just…hard to leave.”
Without a word, he rolled to his feet and reached down to help her to hers. “Then let us get it over with, aye?”
She took his hand and stood. He was right. It was inevitable, so best to get on with it. Without a word, she walked at his side, taking in the wonder of her childhood home one last time.
As they drew closer to the keep, she forced a smile and set her mind to making the best of the sad day. After all, she was blessed to be leaving with a man she loved and joining a family of good, kind people. Such could not be said by every chieftain’s daughter.
“Came to her senses and tried to run from ye, eh?” Graham teased as they approached.
Sutherland smiled and lifted her hand. “Aye, but I caught her.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Make yer goodbyes, love,” he said softly.
Everyone else went to their mounts as Sorcha went to her father. She appreciated their respect for her privacy.
Da took hold of her shoulders and squeezed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I love ye, daughter.” He stopped and pulled in a deep breath, blew it out, then cleared his throat. “And when next I see ye, yer belly best be rounding with my first grandchild, aye?”
“Aye, Da,” she whispered as she hugged him tight and kissed his cheek. “Be careful and oust that woman quick, ye ken? Dinna trust her or her son.”
“I will be fine.” Her father smiled, squeezed her shoulders again, then nodded toward her horse. “Would ye do yer father the honor of helping ye mount?”
“Aye, Da.” She glanced around, searching. “Heckie didna come to bid me and Jenny farewell?”
“MacIlroy said the boy’s locked himself in his room and willna come out. Best leave him be. Ye know how hard it is for him sometimes.” He planted his hands around her waist and hefted her up into the saddle as though she were a bairn.
“Da!”
Greyloch laughed. “Ye used to think it great fun when I’d throw ye high into the saddle when ye were a wee one. Yer mother always scolded me something fierce.” He chuckled again as he shook a finger at her. “I’ll be doin’ the same for the grandbabies ye bring me!”
“I love ye, Da.” She blinked hard against the sting of tears. She was so blessed. “I’ll send word to let ye know we’re safe and settled.”
“And expecting a bairn!” her father added as he stepped back and lifted a hand in farewell.
“And expecting a bairn,” she agreed as she spurred her mount forward, drawing up even with Sutherland. “Did ye hear him? Ye have work to do, husband.”
“I gladly accept such a chore.” Sutherland waved back at the chief, then gave her a smile. “Let us go home, mo ghràdh.”
“Aye.” She spurred her horse forward, needing the wind in her face to blow away her uncertainties. All would be well. Da would adjust, and so would she. Before either of them knew it, they’d each be settled in their new routines and cherishing the lives they’d been given.
Up ahead was a narrow stream trailing away from the river. She and Mama had jumped it many times, laughing as their horses soared over the water. What a fitting way to leap into her new life. She leaned forward as her beast gained speed, sensing what she wished. Just as the horse made the jump, her saddle shifted to the left, then broke free, throwing her into the air. She screamed as she hurtled to the ground, knowing all would go dark.
Chapter Twelve
“Sorcha!” Sutherland roared, leaping from his horse and hitting the ground running. He thundered down the embankment and carefully lifted her from the shallow stream. If crashing against the riverbed stones hadn’t killed her, he feared the swiftly running water had surely filled her lungs. Once on the bank, he draped her across his lap and held her close, sending panicked prayers to any deity that might be listening. Whether it be pagan or Christian, he didn’t care. All he asked was that his precious lady love be spared and allowed to remain with him.
Alexander, Catriona, and Jenny ran to him while the others halted the wagons and stayed with the horses. “Sutherland, is she?” Alexander didn’t say the word, but his concerned scowl finished the question.
Sutherland wiped her wet hair away from her face. The coolness of her flesh sent chills through his own. He bent and pressed an ear to her chest. The sweetest sound he had ever heard made him close his eyes. “Thank God Almighty,” he whispered as relief flooded through him. He lifted his head and shouted, “Her heart beats strong and steady!”
“Praise God,” Catriona and Jenny said in unison.
“Get her to the wagon,” Alexander ordered. “We’ll return to the keep and send for their healer.”
“I shall ride and fetch Aderyn now.” Jenny jumped to her mount and took off before any could stop her.
“How could this have happened?” Catriona knelt beside him. “She told us tales of riding with her mother since she was a wee little thing. Said they’d race across the glens. That wasna a fierce jump at all.”
Sutherland turned and looked farther down the bank. Sorcha’s horse waited peacefully beside the stream, its saddle missing. “Find her saddle and check the straps.”
“No need,” Graham said with a grim set to his jaw. “I already checked yers, and I’d lay odds hers are the same. The leather was sliced most of the way through. Whoever did it planned for ye to be a ways from the keep before their vile intentions threw ye to the ground.” He squatted down beside Catriona, his worried look locked on Sorcha. “When her mount jumped, it snapped hers free quicker than they intended.” His gaze lifted. “We have to find this bastard and finish this. Now. Before one of ye ends up dead.”
“I willna rest until I snap that whoreson’s neck with my own two hands.” Sutherland gathered Sorcha up and carried her to the wagon.
With Alexander and Graham’s help, he settled her as comfortably as he could. Her left arm dangled away from her side at an odd angle. It had surely been knocked from its socket at her shoulder. Who knew what other injuries his poor dear one had sustained? Her color remained good. That gave him some hope. But he prayed she wasn’t bleeding somewhere they couldn’t see. A horrifying thought occurred to him. What if she carried the tiniest of bairns inside her? Might such a fall knock the possibility of a babe from her womb? He closed his eyes and sent up yet another prayer. Save her. I beg ye. Please dinna take her from me—and dinna take any child we might have made together.
Catriona clambered up into the wagon beside her and waved Alexander and Graham onward. “I’ll steady her as ye ride ahead and let her father know. Dinna worry, I’ll call out should she come to, but pray that she doesna until we’ve settled her bed. From the looks of her arm, the poor lamb will be in a world of pain from that alone ’til we get that shoulder reset.”
Sutherland grabbed hold of Alexander’s arm as he turned to head back to his horse. “If she dies, I will kill everyone in Greyloch Castle. I swear I’ll raze it to the ground. Except for her father. Him, I will spare. But no other life nor a single stone will I leave intact. Once I’m done, Greyloch Castle nor its people will exist any longer, ye ken?”
“I understand,” Alexander said quietly. “Com
e. Let us get her the help she needs, and then we can plan our vengeance properly.”
Sutherland climbed into the wagon with Catriona and Sorcha and settled down at his dear one’s head. With a trembling hand, he touched her wet hair and caressed the cool velvet of her cheek. “Dinna leave me,” he said softly, willing her to hear him and obey. “I beg ye, my love. Dinna leave me. Now that we are one, I canna be without ye.”
Catriona looked aside and pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes as the wagon turned around and headed back to the keep. Just as they rode into the bailey, Jenny thundered in behind them. “Aderyn’s a’comin’! She said to get Sorcie out of those wet clothes and into her bed! Two lads from the village have the wise one in a cart, pullin’ her up the lane right now.”
Chieftain Greyloch met them at the door to the keep, his face grim. He didn’t say a word as Sutherland carried Sorcha up to what had once been their chambers. Just as he eased her down onto the bed, her eyelids fluttered open, and her face crumpled with pain. She clutched at him as though trying to climb out of the hellish pit into which she had just fallen.
“God Almighty, help me!” she cried out, burying her face in his chest.
“The healer’s coming,” Sutherland assured, settling on the bed with her. “Where do ye hurt other than yer shoulder?”
“Hip. Leg. Chest.” She stiffened and keened out another pitiful sound between clenched teeth. “Have mercy on my soul! Give me the strength to bear this.”
Sutherland turned to Catriona. “Whisky for her! Now! And get someone to stoke that fire. She’s chilled to the bone.”
“But the healer—”
“I dinna give a damn about the healer! My wife needs relief now, and the drink will help warm her!” Sutherland jabbed a finger at the bedchamber door. “Now, ye can either get it for her, or I’ll be fetchin’ it myself.”
Catriona rushed from the room, then returned just as quickly. She filled a glass and handed it to him. “Give her just enough to take the edge off. We dinna know what herbs Aderyn might have that could help her.” After placing the bottle on the bedside table, she hurried to the hearth, piled on the wood, and coaxed the banked embers into roaring flames.
“Hold strong, dear love. I’m going to lift ye enough so ye can drink and willna choke.” He hated moving her, knowing it would only add to her torment until the whisky numbed her. He waited until she nodded, then raised her enough to swallow the contents of the glass. She had gone pale when she had awakened. Hopefully, the fire of Greyloch’s best would fight back the pallor and give her enough strength to bear the removal of her wet clothes.
“What happened?” she whispered without opening her eyes. Brows still knotted, she seemed less rigid and calmer.
“Yer saddle broke free and threw ye into the burn when ye made the jump.” He refused to lie to her. “I promise ye I’ll have the bastard in shackles before sunset, ye ken?”
She nodded, then attempted a deeper breath, winced, and grabbed her side.
“Ribs. Hopefully, just bruised and not broken.” Aderyn thumped her way into the room, then aimed her staff at Sutherland. “Away wi’ ye now. There’s a good deal to be done here for yer lady wife, and stripping off her soaked clothes willna be the worst of it.” She swung the gnarled head of her walking stick toward the door. “Go sit with the other men and drink yer drinks until my work is finished. I’ll call ye to her side then.”
He glared at the crone and didn’t twitch from his seat beside Sorcha’s pillow. “Try to move me, old one.”
The healer scowled right back at him. “Men canna stomach what easily women endure. We are the caregivers, the bringers of life, and oftentimes, the companions of death. Hie thee away from yer lady, fool. Time’s a wasting, and she needs my help.” Her squinty-eyed glare slid to Catriona. “Ye best be telling him to be gone. He be yer kin.”
“When a MacCoinnich makes up his mind,” Catriona said quietly, “There’s naught that can change it. If he means to stay with her, then stay he will. No matter what must be done to help her.”
“I mean to stay,” he affirmed as if there were any remaining doubts.
Aderyn shooed his affirmation away as she set aside her staff and moved closer. “Verra well then. When ye faint dead away, ye’ll be left where ye fall. I’ll be callin’ the dogs in here to piss on ye.”
“He willna faint,” Sorcha said, her tone strained with her suffering. “He is my warrior.” With her eyes still closed, she reached for him with her uninjured hand. “Give me yer strength, aye? Hold to me tight whilst we do whatever we must to get through this and get me better.”
He took her hand and squeezed it tight. “Aye, my love. I willna let ye go. I am right here forever.”
Her strength amazed him. This woman was mightier than any man could ever hope to be. Aderyn had spoken the truth. Removing Sorcha’s clothing was not the worst of what she had to endure. When they had shoved her arm back in place, he had swallowed hard and held his breath. His beloved had borne the pain as well as any warrior. Her only response to the agony was silent tears coursing down her face.
The suffering she endured broke his heart in two. There was little they could do for her ribs, and thankfully, the rest of her injuries were nothing worse than bruising that wouldn’t pain her nearly as much after a few days of rest. He had thanked God Almighty when the old one had proclaimed no bleeding inside nor out, and if they had happened to seed a bairn, it remained within her womb.
Catriona handed him a wet cloth. Gently, he daubed it across Sorcha’s brow, wiping away the sheen of sweat that she had earned as Aderyn did what was needed. “It’s over now,” he promised. “Rest and heal, my darling one, rest and heal.”
The old healer gave him an impressed look. “Lady Sorcha chose well when she decided upon ye as her husband.” She fished deep into the cloth bag, knotted on her belt and pulled out an odd-looking root. She held it up and gave him a look that made him pay closer attention. “Mandrake.” She pressed it into his hand and leaned close. “The tiniest sliver, ground into a paste.” She scraped off the barest bit with her yellowed thumbnail. “This much only. Not a dab more, mind ye. Steep it in a cup of water for her and have her drink it with her parritch every morn.” She smiled and tapped the root again. “This will help with the getting of the bairns. I’ve looked at the spirit bones and seen there will be many, but no sense leaving anything to chance.” With a toothless smile, she handed him another bundle. “And mix this in her whisky and her water whilst she’s healing the next few days. As much as she can stomach. ’Twill help her sleep until the pain isna so fierce, ye ken? Fetch me back if she should need me, but I feel ye willna have to do so.”
He studied both the items, wondering if the dirt and fuzziness clinging to the odd-looking root should be cleaned off before steeping or if that merely added to its potency. “I thank ye.”
Aderyn turned to Catriona. “I leave ye now. Remember, fetch me if aught goes wrong.” A tender smile lifted one side of her mouth as she looked down at Sorcha. “That one there is fiercer than a Highland storm. I know she’ll be just fine.”
“I can sit with her whilst ye speak with her father,” Catriona suggested as Aderyn hobbled from the room. She nodded down at Sorcha. “Poor thing’s completely spent. She’ll sleep quite a while after what we’ve just put her through.”
“Ye’re sure she willna wake? I dinna want her thinking I’ve left her alone. I promised her.” Now that he knew Sorcha was well on the way to healing, he had a matter of revenge to see to. But his beloved came first. All else could wait.
“I promise to call ye if she so much as bats an eye,” Catriona assured him. “But I feel certain she’ll sleep for hours. Not only has she downed a great deal of whisky, but Aderyn laced the last batch with some of those herbs that’ll keep her deep in her dreams for quite some time.”
Sutherland eased off the bed, then bent and kissed his precious one’s forehead. “I love ye, my own,” he whispered, then straightened.
He nodded at Catriona. “If she so much as bats an eye, ye ken?”
With one hand pressed to her heart, she gave a solemn nod. “I swear it.”
He strode from the room and didn’t slow until he came toe to toe with Chieftain Greyloch, who was waiting at the far end of the sitting room. “Where is he?”
No one asked who. They all knew Sutherland meant Garthin.
“He has those who would vouch for him,” Alexander interjected before the chief could answer.
“He always has those who would vouch for him.” Sutherland shoved his brother back a step. “I am done with this game.” He turned back to the chief. “Have ye placed him in irons, or shall I take him out and hang him from the wall?”
Greyloch gave him a cold, deadly look that matched Sutherland’s current frame of mind. “The bastard should be in the dungeons by now. I ordered him taken as soon as ye brought my poor lass back to me.”
At least he and Sorcha’s father were of the same opinion. Sutherland charged out of the room, tossing his sentiments back over his shoulder. “I’ll be speaking with him now and telling him of the ways he shall suffer for causing my wife such pain.”
“Sutherland!” Alexander barked.
He paused and looked back. Whatever his brother had to say had better be good, and if the man was foolish enough to recommend calmness and a cool head, he’d punch him in the face.
“His mother hovers at death’s door,” Alexander said. “Apoplexy more than likely. Aderyn confirmed the woman is not long for this world.”
“Then we shall send him with her,” Sutherland said. “He can escort his mother straight through hell’s gates.” He had no generosity nor sympathy for the man. Not after all that son of a whore had put his precious Sorcha through.
He stormed down the stairs to the main room of the keep. “Take me to the dungeons,” he ordered the guard standing at the archway of the stairwell.
The man agreed with a grim nod, leading Sutherland past the kitchens to an iron door, banded and bolted as though reinforced to either keep out or keep in the strongest of beasts. The armed warrior unlocked the heavy barrier, grabbed hold of its massive ring with both hands, and yanked, his face reddening with the effort. Stepping back, he nodded up at the torch flickering beside the door. “Ye will need that to find yer way. We left nary so much as a candle stump burning down below. The bastard doesna deserve it after all that he’s done to our lady. Ye’ll find him at the verra bottom. Keep going downward until ye canna go anymore. Hopefully, the rats have already started eating him.”
The Bard Page 17
