Chapter Three
Why did he hate the English so?
Alex rushed to his sire’s side. “I was told by a dying man that there is a hidden chamber near the tower room,” his da explained.
Once inside, he pointed down a passageway, indicating that Alex should go first. “You did a fine job during your first battle, so you may lead here, though I don’t expect many to be down this way.
They would have joined the four men who attacked us before.
I suspect they came from the hidden chamber and I fear what we’ll find. ”
As they moved closer, the voice of a sobbing lass reached them. Alex stopped at the door, drew his weapon, then glanced at his sire. The Grant chieftain nodded for him to open the door.
A beautiful red-haired lass lay in the middle of a bed, sobbing and covered in blood. The bedcovers were pulled up to her chin, but blood soaked through the coverlet, making it a dark red color.
Alex couldn’t believe the lass could still be alive after bleeding so heavily.
“Go to her, Alex. ’Tis the laird’s daughter.”
Her sobbing stopped, though her breathing hitched as she stared at him, her gaze unwavering, much like a deer who’d been shot by an arrow but wasn’t yet dead. He strode toward her and asked, “Where are you hurt?”
She squealed and pulled away from him, clearly afraid.
He set his weapon on the floor and said, “I’ll not hurt you. I’ll put my weapon down.”
Somehow he knew she would die soon. There was too much blood, her coloring was eerily pale and dusky, her skin dry. But he would not look away from her. He would not let her die alone.
“I’ll fix the pillows behind you to make you more comfortable.” He made a move toward her, but she screamed and pulled back.
Alex didn’t understand her fear. Couldn’t she see he wanted to help her? He stood back, glancing at his father for guidance.
The look on his father’s face was a sadness he didn’t often see. “She’s afraid of you, Alex.”
“But why? I’m trying to be helpful.”
“She’s afraid of all men, not just you.”
She made an attempt to push herself out of the other side of the bed, nearly tumbling off the side. Alex rushed over to catch her, but she screamed, an odd sound because her voice was so weak. Her body trembled with fear.
“Your name?” Alex asked, desperate to comfort her. “What’s your name?”
“Sarah,” she whispered.
“Your sire is laird of Clan Gordon?” Alex’s sire whispered from the door.
She nodded, still looking at Alex in fear, her knuckles gripping the coverlet so hard that her skin was white.
“He’ll not rape you, lass. ’Twas the English who mistreated you. We’re from Clan Grant.”
“Rape? I’d never…” The meaning of his sire’s comment finally dawned on him, clarifying the poor girl’s actions.
The poor lass expected to be beaten and brutalized again.
He peered at his sire, who said nothing, but Alex did not require further instruction. He would do whatever he could to ease her suffering. Perhaps she sensed it in his touch because her grip on him relaxed and her head fell back, her eyelids closing.
The Grant chieftain came closer to the bed and quietly said, “She’ll not last more than a few hours. She’s lost too much blood. There’s naught we can do for her. Those men brutalized her.”
“I’m not leaving,” Alex said, his tone definite. He knew from his sire’s arched brow that he’d surprised him. “I mean, if I have your approval, I’d like to stay with her. No one should die…”
Her eyes flew open again, but only for a moment.
“Alone.”
“As you wish. ’Tis a kind thought to stay with her. I will be down below with our men. We have much to do before we leave.”
His father nodded to him and left.
Alex pulled a large chair closer and sat in it, lifting Sarah and settling her onto his lap. He tossed the bloody coverlet off to the side and found two furs in a basket and covered her with them.
She shivered against him so he tucked her close. Blood still seeped from below her waist, but he refused to acknowledge it. The fact that she still lived was a testament to her strength and will. The least he could do was hold her. Listen to her story if she chose to tell it.
Tucking her close, he said, “My apologies we did not arrive sooner. My sire thinks your attackers were English. Do you agree?”
She opened her eyes, gazed at him, and nodded. “Aye,” she choked out. “Who are you?”
“Alex Grant. We came because my father heard you were to be attacked, but we came too late.” Tears blurred his vision just from watching the poor girl. Did she know she was about to die?
“My thanks for coming. You have kind eyes, unlike the others.” Her fingers reached up to touch his jawline, but she quickly lost strength and they tumbled into her lap. “Are they still here?” She stiffened at the thought. “Can they return?”
“Nay, I’ll protect you, lass. I promise. They’re all dead.”
Her eyes closed again, and she attempted to take a deep breath but failed. Her eyes opened and locked on his. “Why did they…Why would anyone…Why?” Fresh tears dotted her lashes. “Cruel monsters.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand how anyone could treat another so poorly.” The words seemed paltry given the horrors he’d seen in this place, the horrors that had been visited upon Sarah and her loved ones, but he had no idea what to say.
She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, sighing twice, her hands gripping his tunic. “Don’t leave me. Please?”
“Nay, I’ll not leave. I promise.” He smoothed loose strands away from her face, but she closed her eyes again. “If you like, Sarah, I can try to get you to my mother. She is a healer, and mayhap she can help you.”
The trembling in her body started again. “Nay, please nay.” She gulped, apparently from expending the effort to speak.
“I’ll carry you on my lap. There may yet be time.” He prayed that he could still save her. That this whole mission would not be for naught.
“Nay!” Tears fell down her cheeks and she shook her head.
“But why not?”
“I’d rather die.”