Nodding, Islaen stumbled to her feet. She felt weak and light-headed but fought it. Thinking a little hysterically that Iain was going to be exceedingly cross, she headed not for the horses but towards where he had thrown the horn. She had no intention of running for her life at the cost of his, knew she would never be able to live with herself if she did.
With his attention torn between his wife and MacLennon, Iain was able to do little more than keep out of MacLennon’s reach. “Islaen, I told ye to go to the horses! Get out of here!”
“In a moment,” she replied but doubted he could hear her for her voice was little more than a raspy whisper.
When he realized where she was headed he managed to turn his full attention upon MacLennon. He knew she looked for the horn and did not think it would be too hard to find. Once she blew upon that help would arrive in minutes.
Desperately, on her hands and knees, Islaen searched for the horn. She almost wept when she found it for it meant rescue from the nightmare they were caught in. Her relief turned to despair when her first attempt to blow it brought forth a sickly tone that would fail to travel a yard. Praying for strength, she took several deep breaths though they hurt her and tried again. The sound was louder, clearer, but it stole what strength she had. Collapsing upon the ground, she prayed it had been enough to bring the help they so desperately needed.
Alexander looked up from the dice game he played with Robert when Phelan rode into Muircraig. “Where have ye been?”
“About.”
“Verra informative. Ye just missed Lady Mary. She rode out of here but moments ago in no good a temper, I might add.”
“No need. I saw the slattern. Where is Iain?” Phelan asked as he dismounted. “I think ye are losing, Robert. ’Tis best not to play with Alexander.”
“Ye should have told me that ere I lost near all I own. Iain isnae here.”
“Where did he go?”
“Off with Islaen if ye must ask,” Alexander replied. “She planned to seduce him. Must have worked or they would have returned by now.”
“Oh, then t’would most like be awkward to seek him out,” Phelan murmured, frowning slightly.
“Why should ye wish to?”
“Well, Alex, I saw signs whilst I was out riding.”
“MacLennon?”
“I fear it might be. There was an effort made to hide the signs and I can think of no other man who wouldst be trying so hard to creep about here without being seen.”
“There is none.” Alexander stood up, tensed yet hesitant. “Howbeit, Iain is alert to the danger. They went prepared.”
“How alert can a man be,” Robert asked as he too stood up, “when he is enjoying what he hasnae tasted for o’er six months.”
“Not verra alert at all.”
“Still, he may not appreciate any interruption,” Phelan said, “especially when I have no proof.”
“And I cannae say I wish to be privy to my sister tussling with her mon,” Robert drawled.
“An all ye fear is to catch them at it, then we can announce our approach loudly and clearly,” Alex said.
“Ye think ’tis worth warning him,” Phelan murmured.
“Aye, I do. As we have agreed, who else could it be but MacLennon?”
“None,” Robert muttered. “Best we go then. Hold!” Although Robert grasped only Alexander’s arm everyone in Muircraig stilled as the single clear note cut through the air.
“Aye,” Alexander hissed, “I heard it.” He raced for his horse. “The bastard has found them.”
“M’lord,” Murdo cried as he hurried forward buckling on his sword.
“Follow as ye can, man. We cannot hesitate,” Phelan yelled as he vaulted onto his horse. “Do ye know the way, Alex?”
“Aye,” he answered as Robert mounted behind him. “We can be there in but minutes.”
“Pray God He allows us those minutes,” Robert said as they galloped out of Muircraig.
Islaen fought the blackness that threatened to engulf her and struggled to her feet. She had no time for the luxury of pandering to her hurts. Looking toward Iain and MacLennon she wondered frantically what she could do to help.
She cried out in dismay when MacLennon picked up the wood she had used as a club. Even while she tried to keep a close watch on the fight she searched the area for Iain’s sword but could see no sign of it. Then MacLennon struck Iain and she forgot all about the sword. Iain was staggered by the blow, truly helpless, and MacLennon was going for his sword. Trying not to make a sound, Islaen moved towards the rough club MacLennon had tossed aside. She grasped it even as MacLennon, sword in hand, turned towards Iain and smiled gloatingly.
Iain fought to stay conscious. The blow to his head had staggered him. It had also cut him, sending blood streaming into his eyes and blinding him. He was helpless, unable to avoid the blow MacLennon was sure to give him. He prayed Islaen had fled once she had given the signal to bring help. MacLennon did not seem to realize what she had done and Iain hoped that this time the man would die.
As if through a fog he saw MacLennon lunge at him. He stumbled out of the way but felt the tip of MacLennon’s sword score his side. The way the man laughed told Iain that the man played with him and he cursed viciously, wishing he had his sword. Naked and rendered helpless, then taunted by a madman seemed a poor way to meet one’s end. There was little glory in it.
For the first time in her life Islaen tasted pure hate as she watched MacLennon taunt Iain. It was cruel beyond words to play so with a man. Iain was helpless, could barely see where his foe stood and could not fight back, not even if he had held a sword. Her love had to know that the death stroke would come, had probably braced for it, yet MacLennon tormented him by holding back. It was good that MacLennon sought such a twisted pleasure, for it allowed her time to creep near enough to strike at him, but she loathed the man for it.
When MacLennon stepped back after scoring Iain’s thigh, Islaen struck. The man was a lot taller than she but her club was long enough that she could reach his head well enough for a sound blow and that was what she aimed for. Putting all her strength and fury behind her swing, she struck him. Despite the hatred she felt for him, her stomach churned at the sound made when her club struck his skull.
Her dismay faded abruptly when he ceased to stagger and turned towards her. Shock caused her to drop her club when she saw the damage she had done. With such a wound in his head the man should not be standing, she thought, yet he advanced on her. He gave a cry that made her shudder, then hit her. Islaen felt her head explode with pain. She seemed to fly backwards, then landed hard upon the ground. There was another burst of pain in her head and the last thing she was aware of was a scream that sounded as if it was torn from the throat of something less than human.
Despite wiping frantically at his eyes, Iain was unable to fully clear his vision or help after Islaen struck MacLennon and the man turned on her. Hearing the sound of a blow, he echoed Islaen’s cry of pain. He took one step towards her, barely able to make out her crumpled form, when he froze. MacLennon seemed to clutch his head, then screamed in a way that chilled Iain’s blood. For an instant MacLennon wavered, then collapsed. The ensuing silence was something Iain found as chilling as MacLennon’s inhuman cry.
Moving towards the two sprawled forms, Iain stumbled and fell to his knees. After trying several times to get up, he started to crawl towards Islaen. Despite his growing fear for her he paused by MacLennon. He knew he should make sure that the man could not rise up to threaten them again.
Looking closely at MacLennon Iain knew the man was dead even before he checked for a heartbeat. He did not need perfect vision to know that such a head wound had to be fatal. Iain was amazed that the man had not immediately died or at least collapsed.
“Islaen,” he rasped as he reached her side and her stillness began to terrify him. “Islaen, can ye hear me?”
Never had he felt so helpless. He could barely see and he knew he was very close to blacking out
. Islaen needed his help but he could not even keep himself upright. All he could do was pray that she was alive, that someone had heard her call for aid and would be there to keep her alive.
When his shaking hand could locate no pulse he nearly wept. In trying to put an ear to her chest to find a heartbeat he collapsed on top of her. Beneath his ear, however, he heard the steady beat of her heart. With a deep sigh of relief he gave into unconsciousness knowing that, even if Muircraig had not heard the call, someone would come when they were absent for too long.
“Sweet Jesu,” Alexander breathed as he came upon the scene. “They are all dead.”
“Nay,” Robert cried as he dismounted and raced over to his sister.
He gently moved Iain off of Islaen. She was bruised on her face and her shift was splattered with blood. Once he was sure that she was alive it took him several moments before he was sure that her only wound was a bad bump on the back of her head.
“Iain lives as weel,” Alexander reported, “but he has a bad head wound.”
“So does Islaen,” Robert said as he moved to get the blanket so that he could wrap her in it.
“How fares MacLennon?” Alexander asked Phelan.
“Quite dead.” Phelan rose from where he knelt by the man. “Someone caved in his head.”
“Good. The bastard has been a plague for too long. Help me get Iain’s braes on. I am certain he wouldnae wish to be taken back home naked.”
Alexander and Phelan had just finished covering Iain’s nakedness when the men from Muircraig arrived. While Phelan and Murdo bathed Iain’s wounds, Alexander saw to the making of a litter for Iain. Islaen could easily be carried safely by a man on a horse but Iain would be far too great a burden. Once satisfied that matters were seen to, he knelt by Robert who sat holding Islaen, gently pressing a cool damp cloth to her forehead and vainly trying to rouse her.
“What do we do with MacLennon’s body? Do we leave it to the carrion?”
“T’would please me to do so,” Robert growled.
“Me as weel,” Alexander said coldly, “but we best take him with us.”
“Why? The mon deserves no Christian rights. He was mad and tormented twa people that had done him no wrong.”
“Aye, Robert, but he has haunted Iain for o’er twa years.” Alexander sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I cannae say for such has ne’er happened to me but in his place I think I should like to ken that my tormenter is indeed dead.”
“He killed the mon. He must ken that he is dead.”
“Aye, he killed the mon but he may have fallen himself ere he was certain that the mon was dead. Best we take the body so there can be no doubt in Iain’s mind that he has finally won.”
Looking from his unconscious sister to the equally unconscious Iain, Robert met Alexander’s worried gaze and asked softly, “But has he?”
Chapter Twenty-four
“Islaen,” Iain cried and tried to sit up only to be held in place by one strong hand upon his chest. For one panicked moment he had feared to find himself still in the wood and MacLennon still alive, still threatening him and Islaen.
“Where is Islaen?” he rasped. “I must see Islaen.”
“Islaen lives. Now, drink this.”
After painfully swallowing the soothing herbal potion Alexander helped him drink, Iain demanded, “Where is she?”
“In her chambers with Meg and Storm holding court over her. She hasnae woken up yet,” he said softly.
“How long?”
“Since yesterday.” Alexander held Iain still again when he tried to rise.
“I must see her.”
e must stay in this bed, friend. Ye would only fall flat on your face if ye tried to rise and I have toted ye about enough.”
Iain knew Alexander was right. He could feel the weakness of his body. So too had he suffered some dizziness simply raising himself slightly with Alexander’s help. To stand up would get him nowhere but sprawled upon the floor. He ached to see Islaen, however, and cursed his helplessness viciously.
“Come, she lives. Let that be enough for now.”
“Would ye?”
“Nay, but ye have e’er had more sense.”
“I have had no sense at all since I set eyes on her. MacLennon?”
“Dead. Do ye recall bashing his head in?”
“Nay, for t’was not I that did so but Islaen.”
“Islaen?” Alexander gasped.
“Aye, she…”
“Wait. Let me fetch your kin. They have awaited your great awakening. If ye had but waited an hour, t’would have been Tavis setting here.”
“Ere ye fetch them get me a chamberpot,” Iain said with a sigh, disgusted to be needing help with even that.
Alexander helped him as he emptied his bladder, then hurried away to find the MacLagans. Iain found that he needed the few moments it would take to fetch his kin to recover from the simple chore of relieving himself. By the time they arrived, he was able to tell them all that had happened. Recalling the nightmare of that time left him weak and he knew most of that was because he could not yet see Islaen. Each memory only made him more aware of all she had endured.
“I still cannae believe Islaen struck him down,” Alexander murmured and shook his head. “She is such a wee lass.”
“Ah, the lasses can surprise ye, laddie,” Colin said with a nod. “If they were trained as lads are, they could probably wield a sword.”
“She should have been riding away, fleeing as I had ordered her to,” Iain muttered.
“Ye had about as much chance of her heeding that order as I would have had with Storm an it had been us in that trouble. Ye were still in danger, weaponless, and she couldnae leave ye. We wouldnae leave them. ’Tis no surprise they feel the same.”
“Aye, I ken it, Tavis, but that madman nearly killed her once. I wanted her out of his reach. Ye are certain he is dead? I recall deciding he was.”
“Verra dead,” Colin assured him. “We have his body. Put it in a vat of brine. Thought ye might need to see to be sure.”
“Nay. I saw him. I just wanted someone to agree with what I thought I had seen. Confused as I was, my head reeling, I still knew dead when I saw it. Just wasnae sure whether to believe it or nay. This has gone on for so long.”
“’Tis o’er now,” Tavis said. “Now that ye have roused I think ye will soon be up and about.”
“But will Islaen?”
“She isnae a muckle great beast like you. T’will take her longer. An it will ease your mind, I will ask Storm to come speak with you.”
“Aye, please. An I ken all that I may about how she fares I may rest easier.”
When his kin left and Alexander took up his seat by the bed again, Iain closed his eyes. The visit had worn him out. He wanted to wait to see Storm but soon drifted off to sleep again. Twice more he woke, then dozed before waking to find Storm entering the room with a tray. He grimaced with distaste when she helped him sit up and placed the tray before him.
“Gruel.”
“Just for today, I think,” Storm said as she sat down near the bed. “Now, ye eat and I will tell ye what I can about Islaen.”
“What do you mean—what ye can?” he growled as he started to eat and discovered that he was hungry enough to enjoy even gruel.
“I am no physician, Iain.”
“Praise God. Those fools would bleed her and she doesnae need that.”
“Nay, she does not. Iain, it has not been that long yet. From what I was told I know t’was a terrible ordeal. Some of this sleep may be due to that. All that she suffered wore her out, exhausted her. That could lengthen the sleep the knock on the head sent her into.”
“Ye dinnae sound too sure of that.”
“What you hear is ignorance. I do not know much of head wounds. No one does.”
“Ye havenae eased my worries much, lass. Can ye tell me naught that is good?”
“She lives, Iain. Aye, the lump on the head is large but neither Meg, myself no
r e’en Wallace can feel any damage done beneath the skin. The cut left by the blow was but a small one. She does not sleep the sleep of the dead. Several times she has stirred and cried out. That is a good sign, I believe. T’would seem to show that she has not pulled too far away from us.”
He nodded, then sighed. “I wish to see her.”
“That must wait, Iain, but not for much longer. Mayhaps e’en on the morrow.”
When Storm rose and reached for the tray, he grasped her hand. “Thank ye for tending her so weel.”
“I tend her because I care for her. We have become dear friends while ye were so much away.”
Smiling crookedly, he murmured, “I deserve the condemnation I can hear in your voice.”
“Nay, Iain, I…”
“Dinnae lie to soothe me. I begin to think I have been too much soothed.”
“Your fears were very real, Iain.”
“Aye, but I let them rule me, force me to hide away like some craven dog. Alexander didnae soothe me.”
“Alexander meddles,” Storm muttered, fearing the man had hurt Iain.
“He does but I cannae fault him this time. He was right and, in speaking blunt, in trying to make me think about what I was doing, he gave up something—the chance to claim Islaen.”
Storm grimaced. “I had wondered if ye had noticed that.”
“Aye, I had noticed and Alexander told me himself.”
“There has been naught but friendship between them, Iain.”
“I ken it. Islaen says t’will truly be that and no more especially an he finds a lass that can look beyond his bonnie face. There is more beyond it than e’en I kenned. He saw what I did and made me see it. Aye, I was trying to protect Islaen, trying to be certain she wouldnae be left grieving or with child if MacLennon won, but I was protecting myself too and I was failing at it. Do ye ken what I mean?”
“Aye. Ye did not wish to care for her,” Storm said softly. “I am not the one ye should be telling this to,” she continued.
“I ken it but I feel a need to test my words. Do ye think she can understand and forgive me?”
Highland Wedding Page 29