The Highlander’s Gift: Book One: The Sutherland Legacy

by Eliza Knight

  Why have they stopped?

  The sight of them at a complete standstill when moments before they’d all been intent on killing one another made no sense. What could they possibly have to say? In all the tales of battle she’d heard from her father and brothers, not once had this situation arisen.

  The look she’d seen in Niall’s eye had been deadly. When he’d galloped out of the gate, she’d been certain he was going to massacre every one of the MacGregors by himself.

  Bella let her bow drop to her side as she blinked, trying to make out what she saw before her. “What is happening, Philip?”

  “I dinna know.” He shook his head, and Bella, chancing a glance at the other warriors on the wall, saw they looked just as confused.

  “Guess,” Bella challenged Philip. He knew Niall better than she, perhaps he had a good idea what was happening.

  “If were to guess, I’d say Niall has challenged him.”

  “What?” Bella pressed her hand to the cold stone of the ramparts, leaning closer to the edge as though that would help her see the men better. At this distance, she could barely make out their faces, only knew her husband by how tall and golden he was. “Why would he do that?”

  “To cease the fighting. To save his men. To take down MacGregor once and for all.” With every word, Philip sounded more convinced he was correct in his determination.

  “And MacGregor will be arrogant enough to agree.” Bella’s stomach did a flip, falling somewhere toward her feet.

  “Aye, my lady.”

  Bella swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat. She tried to remind herself that when Niall fought MacGregor at Dunrobin, he’d won in a sweeping victory. She didn’t want to think that when he’d turned his back on MacGregor, the man had taken advantage of a coward’s victory. But he had failed. She had to remember that, too. And Niall had men at his back, including her brother, that would protect him should MacGregor try a cheating tactic.

  But…what if the rules were that no one could step in? “We have to do something, Sir Philip. I dinna want Niall to do this. MacGregor doesna fight fair. I need to go down there.”

  “Nay, my lady, we canna interfere. ’Tis about honor, and ye’ll strip Niall of his if ye tried to impede what he has planned.”

  Bella turned to face her husband’s long time friend and personal trainer, hands fisted at her sides. “Philip! How can ye say nay? How can ye watch this happen? Will ye not let a wife comfort her husband?”

  Philip looked her in the eye, his face full of sincerity. “Nay. Because I know that if ye were there, Niall would not be able to concentrate on the fight. He’d be worried about ye. Just as I would be should I be in his place and Mary was standing nearby. Because he has tasked me with protecting ye, and I’d not be doing my duty. Because he can fight MacGregor if he knows he need not worry about ye.”

  “Ye need say no more. I understand.” And she did, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Everything Philip said made sense, especially the part about her companion. She flicked her gaze briefly on him and then back to the river. “Ye love Mary?”

  Philip laughed softly. “I do. Never thought I could fall in love, but she’s changed me.”

  Bella smiled lovingly at the back of her husband’s head, recalling how many times she’d threaded her fingers in those locks. “Love will do that to ye.”

  The logical side of her knew if she were to go out on that field in an attempt to help her husband, she’d be in the way, a deadly distraction. But the part of her that was ruled by her heart wanted to rush out there and put an arrow through every one of their enemy’s hearts.

  “Ye were valiant on the battlefield, my lady. A true warrior. And ye saved your husband’s life. Now he needs to save yours.” Philip must have been reading her thoughts.

  “But I am safe here behind the wall.” She tried to calculate the distance between here and the river. Could she fire an arrow into MacGregor’s heart? She’d never attempted to shoot from this distance. It had to be well over five-hundred feet maybe more.

  “Aye. But ye havena been before now, my lady. Ye’ve been attacked more than once now, and Niall must prove to ye, and to himself, that he can protect ye.”

  Bella nodded, watching as the MacGregor and Oliphant men made a wide circle around Niall and Eoran, who both now stood in the water. Her brother was at Niall’s back, which gave her confidence. Should Niall go down, her brother would bring him back to safety. Protect him.

  If she couldn’t be there, at least he was.

  “Ye wish to be there, too, do ye not?” Bella said.

  “Aye, my lady. But I am honored to protect ye.”

  “I’m sorry.” As Niall’s trainer, Philip had also acted as his bodyguard when Walter wasna there. He must be feeling a similar tightness in his chest at not being down by the river.

  “Dinna be sorry. Niall has entrusted his wife to my care. There is no greater honor than that.”

  Movement by the river had them both going silent. They watched the two warriors circle each other in the water with their swords raised. The men were silent. No cheering or insults being thrown, just the wind and the flowing river. MacGregor had the use of a targe on his arm, and he would not doubt take advantage of Niall not having one.

  Then, all of the sudden, there was a rush of movement that had Bella jumping. The sound of their swords clashing rang out across the moor, ricocheting off the castle walls with the strength and power the men had put behind their attacks.

  With the men surrounding them, it was hard to see what was happening. They chanted, blocking the sounds of the weapons connecting, as if that first hit had given them permission to now open their mouths. Bella tapped her fingers on the rampart wall, stood on tiptoe as if that would help her get a better view. She bit her lip until she tasted metallic, but all it did was increase her frustration at not being down there. Doing something. She lifted her bow, nocked an arrow and took aim, but Philip pressed his hand against her arm and forced her to lower her weapon.

  “Sir Philip, I need—”

  “Nay, my lady. Ye canna fight this fight for him. It will never end. If I must, I will have the guards take ye to your chamber.”

  Bella shook her head vehemently, abhorring that idea more than watching a man try to kill her husband. The view from their chamber’s window was of the front of the castle, not the back where Niall was fighting. She ground her teeth together, gripped the stone and waited.

  MacGregor didn’t want to fight fair. That was evident from the way he tried to hit Niall in the head with the targe while he stabbed with his sword. Niall ended up taking many blows to the side of his head in order to block the blows of the sword. Just above his temple was warm, trickling with blood, and he knew it was because the iron studs on the face of MacGregor’s targe had torn the flesh of his scalp.

  But he wasn’t giving up. Just like at the tournament, Niall was determined to win. MacGregor was a ruthless bully, and one that needed to be put down.

  Niall used his feet to kick at MacGregor’s kneecaps. At one point, the other man’s legs buckled, and he dropped to the water. Niall moved to strike, but MacGregor’s sword arched up to block him at the last minute, and he slammed his targe into Niall’s own knee with a bone-jarring crunch that made his eyes dance for half a breath.

  Niall stumbled backward, not willing to go down. If he went down, it would be his death. He had to work through the pain. Work to stay upright. Work to fight. When he’d fallen before, Strath had been there to block his enemy, or he wouldn’t have made it. But in this fight of honor, no one would be able to step in to help him.

  Falling meant death.

  The men around them cheered and stomped. The water churned. Niall tried to zero in on the sounds of the wind and the blood rushing through his ears. To wriggle his toes that had gone cold in the frigid waters. He tried to keep himself focused on his opponent rather than his wife, whom he hoped had followed his direction to stay behind. His breathing was heavy as
he sucked in air and forced the pain and discomfort all over his body to dissipate.

  Bella… She was the reason he was out here. Protecting her. He couldn’t let her down.

  This had to end now. They could pick at each other all day until they were both exhausted, or he could put all the energy he had left into one final blow.

  Niall opened his mouth, drew in a deep breath and let out a battle cry that tunneled up and out of his throat with the force of a gale wind. MacGregor leapt to his feet as Niall charged forward arching his sword. The vermin was prepared to protect himself from the forward-facing attack, but at the last second, Niall dodged to the left and sliced deeply through MacGregor’s side. Blood gushed from the wound and swirled in the churning waters, but MacGregor did not go down. A crazed look came into his eyes, as though he would cheat death or take Niall with him. Niall backed up out of reach as MacGregor swung wildly with his sword. But it was no use, for the harder he fought, the more his wound bled. The water around their feet was already red, murky. Niall just had to outlast him… The wound gaped wide, showing the white of his ribs, the sleekness of organs that attempted to hold their place despite their casing being ripped apart.

  MacGregor dropped his sword, eyes wide, and fell to his knees. His breaths were shallow, weak. He stared up at Niall with anger and defeat. Niall stumbled back a step, exhausted, in pain. He, too, let his sword fall.

  Neither of them had the energy to continue, and MacGregor’s wound was fatal. The fight was over.

  Niall turned around to trudge toward the bank, tired, his head pounding. A sharp pain stabbed him in the back below his right shoulder, and he fell to his knees. He heard a loud splash behind him as MacGregor fell all the way forward, his body finally giving out. Niall reached behind him, but he couldn’t feel whatever it was that had run him through. His men were shouting, and chaos reigned around him.

  The battle was over, and even though he’d killed MacGregor, the man might have killed him, too. The sharpness of the wound emanated somewhere around his right side, halfway up his back. The pain was intense, but he’d felt worse. Niall tried to get to his feet, but each time he tried, he stumbled forward again. His breathing came in ragged pants.

  Ballocks, but he couldn’t decide if his head or back hurt worse.

  With Niall down, the Oliphants made quick work of dispatching the rest of the MacGregors. The king would not be pleased it had come to this, but he would have known in advance from speaking with Walter that MacGregor had instigated the fight. That Niall had no choice.

  In any case, he’d had to protect Bella. His people. He’d had to avenge the poor lad who’d been killed in the forest. Had to make certain that whoever else MacGregor had a vendetta against did not suffer the same fate. Aye, he’d done his duty.

  Strath knelt before him, met this eyes and said, “I’ve got ye.” Then he hoisted Niall over his shoulder as though he weren’t a six-and-a-half foot-tall warrior weighing at least sixteen stone.

  “Just…let me down. Let me…fight.” If he could just have someone there to hold him up, he’d be fine.

  “Dinna be stupid,” Strath said. “Ye’d not last a minute with that dagger in your back. Ye’re bleeding something awful, and if I dinna get ye back to the castle, my sister will have my head.”

  “Must…protect…Bella.”

  “Aye. But I’ve a thing for self-preservation as well, and ye didna grow up with the lass. She’ll cut me from neck to sternum, I’ve nay doubt.”

  Niall agreed but found his tongue had gone numb and he was unable to answer.

  “I’m glad we’re in agreement. If ye were willing to see me killed, it might make it hard for the next family gathering.” Strath chuckled, and though it seemed he meant to make light of what was happening, Niall could sense the tension in him.

  Niall ground his teeth against the pain in his back, the worry for his men. Warm, sticky blood flowed from the side of his head where he’d been bashed a dozen times by the iron-studded targe. The blood now found its way into his eye, blinding him on one side. His vision came and went on the other side, mostly from loss of blood as the pain had eased into a dull ache. Strath put him on a horse stomach first and led it back to the castle at a jog, shouting for the men to open the gate.

  Behind him, the sounds of battle ceased as the Oliphant men came to their victory.

  “Walter… Need to tell him…”

  “He’ll be here soon. Ye can tell him yourself,” Strath said. “Strength. Ye’ve been through worse. Ye came out of it strong. Ye’ll do it again.”

  They made it through the gate and into the bailey. He was pulled from the horse and laid on his side on the ground, the knife still in his back.

  “I didna want to remove it as he might lose more blood,” Strath explained. “He took a nasty beating to the head. And after he delivered the death blow to MacGregor, the man threw a sgian dubh.”

  Ah, so that was what happened. Niall had thought they would fight with honor. Once a cowardly cheat, always a cowardly cheat.

  Niall blinked open the only eye he could see with to find what seemed like a hundred faces loomed in front of his, but none were the face he needed to see—Bella’s. He closed his eyes, feeling a chill take over him. All he wanted was to see her one more time. For her beautiful face to be forever ingrained in his mind, floating before his eyes.

  Saints, but he was tired. Men were lifting him again. And then he heard her shouting. He imagined her shoving her way through the men to get to him. Niall forced himself to blink open his eyes and saw her anguished face loom over him. He smiled. “Bella…”

  “Och, Niall.” Her long slim fingers covered her mouth and tears glimmered in her eyes. “What did he do to ye?”

  He closed his eyes, the world swimming all around him in muted sounds. “I love ye, lass. Ye’re safe now.”

  Then Bella’s soft warm hand was on his face, stroking his cheek. He leaned into her palm, remembering the joy and mirth in her gaze as she told him a funny story, the passion in her eyes as she fell into his embrace. “I love ye, too.” She choked on a sob and then spoke again in a stronger tone. “Dinna leave me, Niall. That’s an order.”

  Bossy even when he was like this. Niall smiled, wanted to laugh, but he no longer had the energy. He felt so heavy, and yet he was floating. Nay, that was his men carrying him.

  They jostled him a little as he was carried up the stairs to the keep. The men questioned where to go, thinking to take him to the great hall. The chamber off there was already occupied by his ailing father. And then his mother was shrieking. There was a calming word from Bella. She was taking charge. She was his hero to the very end.

  God, he’d loved her from the first moment he’d seen her, bossing all the warriors around with her hands on her hips.

  The last thing he heard before all went black was his wife’s commanding voice. “Take him to our chamber! Fetch the healer! Go, now!”

  Chapter 22

  I will not.” Bella crossed her arms over her chest and glowered down at the healer who’d requested for her to leave. She was an aged woman with creases so deep in her face they might have been a map of all the injuries and illnesses she’d treated throughout her life. “He is my husband, and I will remain by his side.”

  The healer shrugged, her thin lips turned down with distaste. “Suit yourself, but stay out of my way.”

  Bella nodded, wondering why the woman would even consider that she would put Niall’s life at further risk by getting in her way.

  The old woman ordered Strath and Philip to hold Niall in place while she removed the dagger. Bella cringed, forcing herself to remain where she was when she wanted to climb onto the bed and sooth her husband for what was surely going to be a painful procedure.

  Set on a table beside the bed was a pot of steaming water, linens, whisky, ointments, herbs, and a thread and needle. Bella kept her gaze there while the woman gripped the slick handle of the sgian dubh. She gave one tug, but it didn’t budge. She ha
d to brace her foot on the bed and wrap her hand in the hem of her skirt to keep her fingers from slipping. With a mighty yank, it came out, and with it the gush of blood that Strath had warned about.

  Bella did get in the way then, but only to catch the woman as she stumbled backward. After righting the healer, she removed herself back to the corner to watch.

  Blood oozed from the wound, and Niall howled as though he’d been stabbed all over again. Her heart ached, and she kept losing her breath. She backed toward a chair by the hearth to sit before she fell to the ground unconscious.

  “Are ye well, my lady?” the old woman asked as she poured whisky on the wound, eliciting yet another wretched howl.

  The men held Niall to the bed, not allowing him to come up off it as he seemed to want to do.

  Bella cleared her throat. “I’ll be all right.”

  “’Tis fine if ye wish to wait elsewhere,” the woman said, softer now. “Many a lady does.”

  “Nay. I’ll stay,” Bella said firmly, feeling her breath and heartbeat begin to settle. She gripped the sides of the chair as though the wood cutting into her skin would help to steady her. “I need to stay.”

  The woman continued her work. “The wound is deep, but given his howls, I dinna think his lung is punctured.” She cleaned his wound with the warm water and then packed it with herbs and ointments before sewing it closed. The men helped her to maneuver Niall as she wrapped a linen bandage around his torso to protect the stitching and hold her poultice in place.

  “Keep an eye on him. If he wakes, give him this tincture in whisky.” She handed Bella a tiny vial. “And if he is hungry, give him a broth sprinkled with this.” She gave her a small pouch of herbs. “Have someone fetch me if he catches a fever. I’ll be back tomorrow to change the dressing on his wound.”

  Bella nodded, her numb hands taking hold of the items. She watched absently as the woman made her way to the door where Niall’s mother spoke to her softly and handed her a pouch of coins.

  Lady Oliphant entered the room, touched her son’s forehead, kissed him and murmured something in his ear. She came to stand beside Bella and enfolded her in her arms.