Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
E lsie’s heart leapt at Keane’s bellow, but she had no chance to find out why, for her horse bolted, almost tossing her off the back of it. Gripping the reins for dear life as her mare thundered on, she was certain Keane was behind her. But then, spinning to look, she realized she was riding ahead alone. Keane had turned back and was now galloping headlong into a group of men who advanced towards him. Clearly the reason he had told her to run in the first place.
She couldn’t know for certain, but she imagined they were Laird Gunn’s soldiers. Just that morning, Alisdair had said they had been spotted on the clan lands. Who else was it going to be?
For a few seconds, she continued on, her mind in complete conflict. She should run to Alisdair for help, but he was no longer even in sight. Or maybe, she should turn around. This would be her chance, would it not? Gunns’ men had clearly followed them, and were there for her. They had to be.
Pulling on the reins, Elsie slowed the racing mare, eventually bringing the animal to a halt. She turned to watch the scene unfold. Terror mixed with hope, doubt mixed with a sense of freedom. What she had experienced only that morning with Keane loomed in her heart. Those feelings now tugged against the opportunity that lay before her. The chance to go home.
Already, he was battling the men, his sword swinging with precision. Several strikes later, he had knocked three men to the ground. The others remained in their saddle, narrowly avoiding Keane’s blows.
I could return. I am still pure. Me faither would accept me back if he kent I was still innocent. Surely, this is the opportunity I have been waiting fer.
Doubting herself for a second more, she whipped the reins and pushed the mare into a gallop. Jolting against the strength of the animal, she struggled to see the fight clearly as the horse’s hooves battered the soft ground beneath her.
A moment later, and she was almost upon it. The horse slowed down to a canter, until she brought it to a stop once more. It was an unfair fight, for it was six against one, but Keane had already struck down three. Like the soldiers he fought, spatters of blood dotted across Keane’s skin. Whether that was his or theirs, she could not know, but the sight of it sent a shudder across her body, and a deep worry began building in her stomach.
He battled valiantly, all the men now off their horses and fighting on foot. They surrounded Keane, and yet, that did not stop him from defending each strike and attack. The swords crashed together, the metal clanging reaching right into her fearful heart.
Slipping past Keane, one of the soldiers grabbed his plaid from behind. Keane stumbled back, unable to keep his footing. Soon, he was on the ground, and yet, still he fought. His legs kicking to keep two of them away, while he defended strikes from the other. His chances looked even slimmer, and Elsie could not help but see her opportunity.
This is me chance. I can return home. I can be free o’ Keane’s grasp forever.
But seeing him overtaken terrified Elsie to death. She continued to watch, her breathing momentarily suspended, her heart thumping against her bones, and her fists gripping the reins. Something occurred within her. A physical change that tugged her heart in the opposite direction. Even after everything he had done, she could not watch the soldiers murder him before her very eyes.
Because ye want tae be with him.
Yes. She did. The last two days, she had seen parts of him that he had kept well hidden, yet parts of him that she also knew were true. The real Laird Mackay. The person he had been before his father's murder. Before he had been hell bent on slaughtering anyone who got in his way of getting to Laird Gunn.
I have tae save him.
In a moment of desperation, Elsie made a decision. Jumping from her horse, she grabbed the dirk that Anna had slipped into her hand that very morning ‘for her protection’ from beneath her skirts and without any hesitation, she launched herself into the fight.
As she ran, however, the man towering over Keane managed to strike him in the stomach, releasing a haunting bellow from Keane’s lips. But the sound only spurred Elsie on. The man had his back to her, and thus, did not see her approaching. When the other soldiers did, it was too late, for she had thrown herself upon the man’s back. With her dirk gripped in her fist and her mind trying not to think what she was about to do, she began stabbing the small knife into his back.
Roaring in pain, he swung his body from one side to the other, flinging her off him. Elsie landed with great force, wincing as her body came into contact with the soft sod.
Keane’s roar of anger now echoed around them, and even injured, he pushed past his agony. Scrambling to his feet with his sword held high, he brought it down on the man who now struggled to breathe after Elsie’s attack.
The two remaining men yelled and advanced at Keane, one striking another blow across his upper arm. At the exact same time, the sound of thundering horse’s hooves reached them. Alisdair came into sight, and while Keane continued to battle, the other soldier turned and ran. Evidently, he realized his chances of survival had greatly decreased.
Alisdair’s horse was still moving when he jumped from it and ran towards the fight. Unsheathing his sword, he ran towards the soldier fighting Keane, and with a single strike, the man fell down dead.
Only then did Keane collapse to his knees and fall backwards onto the ground.
“Och, God,” Elsie cried, running to join Alisdair who was already at his friend’s side.
“He’s losing a lot o’ blood,” Alisdair hissed. “We need tae get him back tae the castle immediately.”
“Wait,” Elsie cried. And yanking at the hem of her underskirts, she pulled the material until it tore in her hands.
While she continued to tear at her skirts, Alisdair rushed back to his horse. He returned not a moment later with a bottle of whisky he had purchased in the village they had not left long ago. Pulling Keane’s already torn shirt apart, they found a large gash below his ribs on the left. Blood pulsed from it, like water pumped from a well.
Alisdair poured the whisky over it, eliciting a bellow from Keane. Immediately afterward, Elsie pressed the makeshift dressing against the flow.
“This isnae enough,” she said, fear dancing in her voice, “but we have tae try.”
“I’m fine,” Keane groaned. “Get me back.”
“Indeed, ye are nae fine,” Elsie hissed. “Are ye mad?”
“Get me back,” he repeated, gazing up at her with pleading eyes.
Elsie and Alisdair shared a knowing glance. There was little time left. They had to hurry.
With great effort, Alisdair and Elsie struggled to lift Keane onto Alisdair’s horse. He was not a small man. As breathless as he was, Alisdair jumped up behind him. Gripping Keane against his body, he looked down at Elsie.
“Take Keane’s horse and hurry back tae the castle. Ye will be there ‘afore us. Get the healer ready fer our arrival.”
Elsie grabbed the reins of Keane’s animal before mounting her own. With a final glance back at the two men, she whipped the reins of hers and rushed on ahead of them.
The gates of the castle yawned open at her approach. Thundering through them, she couldn’t help but notice the frowning, worried faces of the soldiers on the gate as the men stared up at her.
“The laird is injured,” she cried, as men hurriedly approached. “We need the healer immediately.”
She heard the order barked for someone to fetch the healer, and then, all attention was on her. Questions of where, what, and how tumbled out at her. She answered them, one at a time. When the questions were over, all she could do was wait. Pacing back and forth over the cobblestones, she worried for another five minutes, until Alisdair and Keane came into view.
Elsie suddenly felt someone at her side and swung her head to look. Beside her stood an old man, his face lined with deep crevices, like the side of a mountain. His hair was as white as fresh snowfall, and his eyes were so deeply set into his face, they looked almost black.
When he smiled, it was a slow and sad expression, revealing several gaps where teeth might have been before.
“I didnae get the honor o’ meeting ye the other night at the feast, me lady,” he began, his voice raspy, but kind. “I am Farlan, the castle healer.”
Relief flooded through Elsie as she gawked at him. “Och, ye must help him,” she cried frantically. “His injuries are deep, and I dinnae ken if he will survive.”
But as excitable as Elsie was, her whole body shaking with fear and worry, Farlan remained steadfast beside her and only nodded slowly.
“We will see,” he said, in a calmness that did not, at all, reflect the situation or her own feelings.
She was about to reply, when Alisdair arrived through the gates. Keane’s head lolled on his chest, betraying the fact that he was no longer conscious. And then, a great fuss began. Five men surrounded the horse, each nodding at Alisdair when he told them to go slow and easy.
Once Keane was off the horse, the soldiers laid him in a cot that had been waiting for him. A cot the men had gathered only moments after Elsie had arrived and told them their laird was in trouble. Four men then took hold of a protruding pole, one at each corner, and Farlan led the way to the cottage.
Alisdair and Elsie followed behind, she still wringing her hands with worry.
“He’ll come through,” Alisdair said. “He’s strong.”
“Strong he may be,” Elsie said, while the soldier’s carried the laird into Farlan’s cottage, “but when death comes, and he is ready fer us, none o’ us can refuse him.”
Alisdair gave her a thoughtful look, but did not reply. Instead, they waited until the soldiers returned from inside the cottage. Two of them now carried the empty cot. Only then, did they venture forth inside.
Farlan was cutting away Keane’s shirt when they stepped into the room. Already, the makeshift dressing Elsie had made from her underskirts was soaked through. Instead of the white it had been before, it was now a slick blackening red color, the sight of which made her gasp.
“Oh, God.”
Keane’s eyelids fluttered open and looked at her. His breathing was erratic, his face gray, and a sheen of sweat covered his brow. He lifted his hand out, and without hesitation, Elsie hurried to him and took hold of it.
“I’m going tae slip away from ye soon,” he croaked. “I want ye tae ken how grateful I am fer what ye did.” He gazed at her, his eyelids beginning to fall. “Ye could’ve let me die. Ye could’ve let them take ye…”
And then his voice trailed off, and his hand loosened in hers.
“Nay!” she shrieked.
Alisdair, who had moved over to the other side of the bed, swiftly bent at the waist and pressed his ear to Keane’s chest. He stilled, listening for a few more seconds, before he stood again, his face grave.
“His heart is still beating, though it is faint.” He then looked at Farlan. “What chance daes he have?”
Farlan shook his head slowly. “That, I cannae tell ye, Alisdair. But I assure ye, I will dae all I can. Perhaps it might be better if ye took Lady Mackay back tae the castle.”
“Nay!” Elsie barked. “I’m nae leaving his side.”
The old man gave her a steady look, before nodding his head. “Very well. But I warn ye, this isnae going tae be a pretty sight.”
“I dinnae care,” Elsie argued.
And with a final nod, Farlan bent his head and continued to work. But as Elsie looked down at Keane, she couldn’t help but wonder if the words her new husband had spoken to her might be his last.