The Highlander's Keep

by Bess McBride

  “Oh, Cyn, you must be in agony yourself,” Ann murmured, looking from me to the doorway of the inner room as if she was torn about what to do.

  “I’m not going to lie. It hurts. Is everyone okay?” I asked, crawling back toward the room, Torq’s bloodied square of plaid still in my hand.

  “Yes. For all the shouts and screaming, Torq was the only one injured this time. Mistress Glick is looking after the children. Can I help you stand?”

  “I don’t want to stand,” I mumbled.

  “Oh, Cyn,” Ann murmured, following me as I inched into the room.

  My knees were sore, but my back hurt less than it had when I initially rolled out of bed. Ann hurried past me and relit the candle.

  I arrived to see John and Andrew ripping off Torq’s shirt to reveal a well-muscled chest dotted with red hair. They pushed him onto his left side, and Ann hurried around the side of the bed to check out his neck and back.

  “What can I do?” I asked, pulling myself onto a chair at the left side of the bed. The small of my back throbbed in the sitting position, and I slid back off the chair to kneel beside the bed, with Torq’s face close to mine.

  “Here!” Ann grabbed the linen towel from the sideboard and handed it to me. It was still wet. “Keep pressing on the wound on the back of his neck. Andrew, take Torq’s sword and heat it in the flames of the torch out there. John, I have to cauterize his face and neck. Can you shave his whiskers? Otherwise, it will smell awful, and I’m afraid I might set him on fire!”

  “I ken from the urgency in yer voice that there is no time to fetch a shaving blade. The dagger will have to do.”

  From seemingly out of nowhere, John produced the dagger that had propelled me back in time.

  Ann gasped and took a step back.

  “Where was that?” I whispered.

  “Tucked in the belt at his back. Dinna fash, love. I willna let the dagger touch ye. Let go of Torq, lass, and ye can resume tending his wound when I have finished shaving his whiskers.”

  “Hurry, John. We have to stop the bleeding.”

  John made quick work of scraping the hair off Torq’s face without benefit of water or soap. When he finished, he walked over to the door and threw the dagger out onto the floor with a clatter.

  “Bring the sword, Andrew, and do something wi the dagger. It canna be near my lady.”

  I resumed compression against Torq’s neck wound. The gash across his face would scar, but in a piratey kind of way. I didn’t think it would disfigure the startlingly handsome Scot with the pale skin, hooked nose and now visible square jawline. His mouth, much wider than I had thought, made him look younger than I had imagined.

  “How old is he?” I murmured to no one in particular.

  “Not more than twenty and six,” John said, approaching with the sword. He extended it to Ann, basket hilt first.

  “Oh gee, that looks heavy. Can you hold it for me, John, and I’ll guide it?”

  “Aye.”

  “Cyn, can you lift Torq’s hair?”

  I rose up on my knees and leaned over Torq’s face to lift his hair away from his neck.

  “Okay, Cyn, hold him down, just in case the pain wakes him up. I’ll do his neck first because that blood is flowing pretty heavy. I hope he hasn’t nicked an artery, but I wouldn’t know.”

  While John held the weight of the sword, Ann guided the hot blade to the back of Torq’s neck. The smell of burning flesh was as bad as I’d heard. Torq’s body jerked, and I threw my weight on him, but he settled. For all I knew, he had smothered under my body.

  “Okay,” Ann said, lifting the sword and inspecting the wound. “Is this all coming back to you now, John?”

  “Aye, love, it is. I dinna remember ye pressing yer bosom upon my face though.”

  I gasped and lifted up.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” I murmured, my cheeks as red as Torq’s neck.

  “John,” Ann chided.

  He looked unabashed. Andrew reappeared at the doorway without the dagger.

  Ann hesitated.

  “I’m not sure I want to burn his face, now that I see the damage to his neck. It may have stopped bleeding, but that’s going to leave a nasty scar. Let’s try stitching. Have you ever done stitches, Cyn?”

  “Nope, but I’m willing to try.”

  “Andrew, hurry to Mistress Glick’s croft and ask for her needle and thread. More whisky too. He’s going to be cranky when he wakes up.”

  Andrew ran from the room. I sat back on my knees, my back spasming in pain.

  “Cyn, you look awful! Are you sure you can do this? We still don’t know how badly you’re hurt. You could still have fractured some vertebrae or something.”

  I nodded. “I know, and I’m probably working on adrenaline, but I want to help.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Do you want to sit in the chair?”

  “No, no chair. I tried that. Sitting was painful. Keeping my spine straight is a little less painful.”

  Andrew returned in a jiff with the requested items.

  “Mistress Glick said to send for her if we have need of her. She will fetch one of the women to see to the children, but says ye ken what ye are about.”

  “Thank you, Andrew,” Ann said, with a skeptical lift of her eyebrow at the compliment. She handed me a wickedly thick-looking needle and some dark thread.

  Truthfully, I had actually never stitched someone up before. I gave Ann a panicked look. Andrew moved to John’s side, and John wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders.

  “You can do it, Cyn! If you can’t, I’ll try, but I’ve never stitched anyone either.”

  I swallowed hard. “Okay, I think I’m going to need your help. You hold the edges of the wound closed, and I’ll stitch it. We should pour some of that whisky over the wound.”

  “I hope that doesn’t wake him up. We need him unconscious.”

  “I will pour the whisky,” John said. He let go of Andrew, took the bottle and poured a small amount over Torq’s face. I mopped it up with the linen and set it aside.

  “I have no idea if it has an antiseptic effect, but it can’t really hurt. Are you ready, Ann?”

  I threaded the needle and knotted the end.

  “Yes.” She knelt down at the side of the bed and pulled the sides of Torq’s gaping facial wound together.

  “I ken ye need more light,” John said, picking up the candle and holding it directly above Torq’s face.

  My heart raced. I didn’t want to hurt Torq, and I didn’t want to scar him so badly that he would hate me for the rest of his life.

  “He’s not going to hate you, Cyn,” Ann said.

  I looked up, startled. “Did I speak out loud?’

  “You did. He’s going to be fine. Just put that needle in.”

  Ann looked as squeamish as I felt. I took a deep breath and pushed the needle through. I forced myself to continue until I had placed twenty stitches from his jawline to his cheekbone. When I finished, I dropped back to my knees.

  “Some more alcohol on his face, I think.”

  John set the candle down and poured a bit more alcohol over the wound while Ann mopped up the spill.

  “He is going to awaken stinking of whisky and wonder how much he had to drink,” John said with a crooked smile. “I must go speak to the lads and reassure them that Torq will live. And demand to ken how the Macaulays reached the island.”

  “The Macaulays? I thought the threat was from the Macleods?” I asked.

  “Both clans are in league to destroy us. I havena been able to leave for London to petition the king to stop this harassment, and my letters have gone unanswered.” His face darkened, and Ann rose and put a hand on his back.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, for lack of any other useful words. I could have added that the deadliest part of the clan rivalries would end someday, but I supposed Ann could have told him that too.

  “Thank ye, Mistress Dunnon. I ken it will no always be this way, but it is for now.”<
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  I looked at Ann, who met my eyes and nodded. She glanced at Andrew, and I knew I shouldn’t say anything further about the future or my knowledge of it, however limited.

  “I must leave ye.” He gave his wife a reassuring nod and left.

  “I have to get back to the babies, Cyn. Why don’t you come with me? We don’t have a spare bed, but I can throw some blankets on the floor. The babies will awaken soon for a feeding, if they haven’t already. Andrew can watch over Torq.”

  I looked up to where Andrew watched silently from a wall.

  “I’d like to stay with him, Ann. I’m exhausted, and I can probably bed down on the floor here myself. It would probably feel better on my back. Besides, I haven’t tried walking yet. I’m not sure if I can.”

  “Oh, that’s right! If you’re sure. I can send Andrew for some of the men to carry you back to our croft.”

  “No, I’m sure. I’ll watch over him.”

  “Andrew, please run to my croft and fetch some blankets and a pillow for Mistress Dunnon. Thank you.”

  The ever-faithful Andrew took off running.

  Torq moaned then but didn’t move. His eyes remained closed.

  “Whew! He didn’t awaken. I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” I said.

  “He’ll be grumpy, that’s for sure. Try to get him to drink some whisky. He doesn’t drink it very much, not like some of the other Scots, but it will help with the pain. Do you want me to pour you a cup?”

  I shook my head. “No, I think I’ve been drunk ever since I got here. I’ll probably need it more tomorrow when I wake up after all this running around on my hands and knees.

  “How do you do it, Ann?” I asked.

  She needed no explanation.

  “I love him. It’s terrifying sometimes, and I worry about the babies, Sarah and Archibald, but I know they survive to have children of their own. Remember though that you don’t have to stay, Cyn. As soon as you’re well enough to travel back, you can go. I’m not sure where Andrew hid the dagger, but that’s all you will need.”

  Andrew arrived with the blankets and a pillow, and Ann made me a bed where I indicated I wanted it, on the floor next to Torq so I could tend to him in the night. She sent Andrew away for the night.

  “You’re sure? You’re not likely to get much sleep at my place with the babies and John coming and going tonight, but you’d be a bit warmer. I usually have a fire going in my croft.”

  “No, I’m fine here, Ann. Really.”

  “You can’t run around in your underwear, and that blanket is falling off. I’m going to have to bring you something to wear...if you can move tomorrow.”

  “I’ll have to figure something out, won’t I? My nursemaid, Torq, is down, and Andrew’s just too small to handle me.”

  “He’s stronger than he looks. They’re born pretty hardy, these guys.”

  I nodded.

  “Good night, Cyn. I’ll be back in the morning with breakfast and some hot tea.”

  “Good night, Ann.”

  Ann left the room. As she shut the door, a draft caught the candle and blew it out. I had no energy to crawl over to it and didn’t think I could figure out how to light it anyway.

  I listened to the sounds on the island. Things appeared to be still unsettled. I heard angry male voices from up above in the tower as well as occasional calls and shouts from outside the keep, nothing to suggest that we were under attack again so much as the village still recovering. Ann had said no one else had been injured, which surprised me given the sounds of warfare that I’d heard.

  I lowered myself onto the fairly comfortable bed Ann had made for me and let my eyelids droop. A moan from Torq brought me awake again.

  “Lass? Are ye here? Were ye injured?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes, I’m here. No, I wasn’t hurt,” I said, grabbing the bed frame and pulling myself to my knees. I peered into his face, seeing little in the darkness. “Are you all right?”

  “I dinna ken how I am. My face hurts, but I am more concerned that I lay on the bed and ye are on the floor.”

  He reached out and touched my face, as one did in the dark.

  “You had two wounds,” I said, “one to the back of your neck and one to your face. Ann cauterized the one to your neck, and we stitched your face up. I’ll bet it does hurt. Do you want some whisky?”

  I touched his chin, keeping my hands from his cheek. He covered my hand with his.

  “What have ye done with my beard?” he said.

  “John shaved it so we could treat your facial wound.”

  “It feels as smooth as a bairn’s bottom,” he said.

  “It does,” I said with a smile.

  He pushed himself upright. “I canna lay upon this bed and ye sleep on the floor.”

  Even in the darkness, I could see that he slid his feet onto the floor. He stood, albeit wobbly.

  “Sit down, Torq! You lost a lot of blood!”

  He sank down to his knees on the floor beside me.

  “Come now. Up ye go.”

  Wrapping his arms around my waist, he hauled me onto the bed. Thankfully, my blanket skirt held fast.

  “We are a crippled pair, aren’t we?” I whispered.

  “Aye,” he said. He took another blanket from the floor and covered me with it. “As long as ye are safe. I feared for ye.”

  “I’m fine,” I murmured. “Thanks to you.”

  Torq ran his hands down my cheek before he slumped down onto the floor. I turned onto my side, my back protesting at the use of my lower back muscles.

  “Torq?” I asked. “Are you awake?”

  He did not respond, and I leaned over to touch his neck. Luckily, I encountered the uninjured side, and his pulse beat strongly. I hoped he had fallen asleep or passed out, either way.

  Chapter Seven

  Gray light filtered in the window, and I opened my eyes. My first instinct was to check on Torq. Flat on my back, I rolled onto my side. My muscles, which had stiffened in the night, screamed, and the sound escaped my mouth.

  The door burst open, and Torq ran in.

  “Lass! What is it?”

  I looked up in surprise, having assumed he was on the floor.

  “Nothing! Sorry. My back is stiff and sore. I thought you were asleep on the floor.”

  “I had to attend to nature,” he said. His hair, matted with dark-brown dried blood, hung around his face. Even in the soft light, I could see the dark stitches on his face.

  “Let me look at your stitches,” I said, trying to push myself to a sitting position.

  Torq held out his hands and allowed me to use him to pull myself upright to a sitting position. I bit back the moans of pain.

  “I think I am in less pain than ye, lassie,” he said. His eyes crinkled, but he raised a hand to his face with a grimace.

  I peered at the stitches. Sloppy but still intact, I saw no spreading redness or oozing.

  “Did ye sew my face?” he asked.

  “I did, and not very well at that. I hope you don’t scar too badly. Here, let’s pour some more whisky on it.”

  I reached for the bottle, and Torq picked it up.

  “Is that why I smelled like a distillery when I awakened?” he asked. “I didna remember enjoying a dram. Ye dinna mean to waste it on my face, do ye?”

  “I do. Hand me that bit of cloth.” Sanitary conditions aside, I used the same cloth and poured whisky over it before dabbing at his face.

  He hissed as it burned, but said nothing. I examined the cauterized wound on his neck, which looked terribly angry and blistered, but it too didn’t show signs of infection.

  “I think I need to put some whisky on your neck as well. Are you up for it?”

  “Aye.”

  He winced when I patted at the wound, and I winced as well.

  “Do ye ken healing then?” he asked.

  “Not a bit,” I said almost cheerfully. “Could you hand me that cup?”

  Torq handed me the cup, and I helped mysel
f to a cup of whisky to ease some of the pain.

  “For medicinal purposes, ye ken,” I said. I drank it down, let the warmth hit my stomach and smiled broadly.

  “How are things in the village today? Ann said no one else was hurt during the raid?”

  “Nay, the Macaulays didna take any lives. They dinna seem intent on killing so much as harassing. I dinna ken if they are trying to run us off Dun Eistean or what their goal is. They are no half as angry as Angus Macleod. Perhaps they are probing our defenses again, which are still weak.”

  I wanted to put my hands on Torq’s shoulders and kiss his forehead. I actually wanted to kiss his lips, but worried not only about certain rejection but that such a sudden movement might hurt his face.

  I kept my hands to myself and stared at him.

  “You have dried blood in your hair,” I said.

  “Aye, I smell it. I will go down to the sea and bathe.”

  “The sea?”

  “Aye.”

  “Can I go?”

  “Auch, lass, ye are in no shape to walk. I suppose I could carry ye down.”

  “Oh, no, no. You’ve lost too much blood. You need to conserve your strength.”

  “I could ask a few of the lads to help if I falter. I ken ye have been trapped inside the keep long enough.”

  “Really? Would they? I’d hate to impose, but I really would love to see the sea.”

  “Mind ye, I was going to bathe.”

  “Well, I won’t look. How about that?”

  “See that ye dinna!” His eyes crinkled below the dark-red brows, and he put a protective hand to his cheek again.

  “I’ll fetch some lads and let Ann ken our plans. I may be yer protector, but ye are her guest. Ye are in need of some clothing if ye are to venture out.” With a lift of an eyebrow, he looked down at the blankets covering my legs.

  I said nothing as Torq left, but I did my best to quell the anticipation of seeing that tall red-haired Scot rising up from the waves. I grabbed hold of the chair seat and pulled myself up from the bed, then tried to stand upright using the chair back. I froze in an awkward forty-five degree angle while waves of pain coursed through my back.