Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
H is blood was still humming with battle haze, the adrenaline of terror and rage fading from his system as Alistair approached Niamh. She was looking at him with wide eyes, surrounded by the bodies of the men he’d killed, her back tight up against the stone outcropping behind her.
He and Ewan had been following the bandits and cleared the trees just in time to see her turn and stab at the horse. He’d been terrified they’d not get there in time, and at the same time, almost too scared to shoot, knowing that if he missed he could hit her. Then he’d seen the brigand raise his spear, and it hadn’t mattered any more.
Niamh still hadn’t answered him. Alistair took a step closer to her. “Are ye hurt? Can ye walk?”
A moment later, he cursed himself. Even trained warriors, when they faced their first battle, might suffer from battle shock. Watching a man die before you was no easy thing, not even if they’d meant to kill you before they fell, or if you’d meant to kill them. How much harder would it be for a gentle soul like Niamh, never trained to the arts of war?
He’d seen men lose control of their bladders or their guts in such circumstances, and it was a miracle that she hadn’t collapsed in a faint. But expecting her to walk, when she was clearly shaken and suffering from shock, was too much.
He held out a hand. “Come on lass, yer safe now.”
Niamh’s eyes flicked to his hand, then back to him. She seemed aware, but she made no move to take his hand, or step toward him.
“Niamh? Lass?” He stepped closer, and she twitched backward.
The response hurt for a moment, then Alistair realized what the problem was. His hands were covered in blood, from the blade and spear, and his clothes were splattered as well. He must look like something out of a nightmare to her.
Ewan appeared at his side and handed him a water skin. “Clean yer hands, braither. Ye’re enough tae scare a banshee intae taking flight from ye in this state.” Alistair nodded and took the skin gratefully. “Ye want me tae tak’ the blackguard back on me horse?”
“Can ye? I’d give ye mine, but I dinnae ken if she’s hurt yet…”
“Och, let me sling me bird over yer horse’s haunch, and I can put him over the saddle like a load o’ brush.” There was grim amusement in Ewan’s tone. “’Twill dae his head and his stomach nae good, but I’m nae thinkin’ either o’ us much mind that.”
“I dinnae.” Alistair shook his head. “Nae at all.”
“Then I’ll be off, and I’ll find Catriona and let her ken ye’ll be comin’ back, with the lass in need o’ a calming tea, if naught else.” Ewan eyed the horses. “An’ I’ll tell the stable boys tae ready a cleanin’ trough fer the horses.”
“Aye. Thank ye.” Alistair nodded, then took a ragged cloth from one of the bandits and set to work cleaning the worst of the blood off his face and hands.
It was still all over his clothing, soaking through to the skin and streaking his hair and the back of his neck, but at least his hands looked less as if he’d been fighting, and more as if he’d accidentally dipped them in cherry juice by the time he finished.
Niamh was still staring at him wide-eyed, and she hadn’t moved. Alistair sighed and moved closer, stopping just out of reach. “Dae ye ken who I am?”
“Aye. Alistair.” She swallowed. “Me husband.”
“Aye. That’s me.” He extended a hand toward her. “Can ye tak’ me hand, now I’ve cleaned the blood off?”
Her gaze flicked to his hand, then to his face, then his hand again. Her face was still pale as fresh cream, and her breathing ragged. After a long moment, however, she did put her hand in his and allow him to pull her forward, past the twisted bodies of her assailants.
“Good. That’s good, lass.” Alistair kept his voice low and soothing. “Did they say anything tae ye? Or get a hand on ye?”
From the way she shuddered, they’d most certainly said something, but her clothing was undamaged, and when she spoke, it was with a quick shake of her head. “Nay. They didnae… there wasnae time.”
“All right. That’s good.” Alistair drew her closer to the horse. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
“I need… me basket…” Niamh turned around, and Alistair saw the partially filled basket of herbs. “And the shears…”
“I have them.” Alistair collected both items and tied them to his saddle. “Now will ye come with me?”
Niamh took a step toward the horse, then stopped, arrested by the sight of the blood that liberally flecked the front legs. She stumbled backward, her face losing what little color it had. “Nay. I willnae ride. There’s… I dinnae want tae.” She shuddered.
Abruptly, he remembered what little she’d told him of her nightmares. Blood. She often saw blood. The circumstances were different, but then, he knew quite well how sometimes a random sight could bring back horrible memories.
On the other hand, it was at least half a candle-mark’s walk back to the castle, if not longer, and the light was fading fast. “The horse is the easiest way tae get home.”
Niamh shook her head. “Nay. I dinnae want… I’ll nae ride.” She turned and started to walk in the direction of MacDuff Castle. Or rather, she tried to.
Her first step, she stumbled, and Alistair heard her make a soft, pained sound. She tried again, and this time he could clearly see that she was favoring her left ankle.
Visions of broken bones or torn muscles flashed through his head. “Ye cannae walk all the way tae the castle with yer ankle injured.”
“I dinnae want tae ride, I told ye.”
“Ye’ll hurt yerself further.”
She might be pale as milk and shaking slightly from the shock, but Niamh still had spirit enough to argue with him. “And I’ll do worse if I try tae jump off the horse while ‘tis moving. An’ I will, if ye try tae force me tae ride.”
“Och, fer the love o’...” Alistair scowled at her, then tied the lead rein for the horse to his belt with a soft command to the horse, before striding forward to scoop her in his arms. “Fine. Ye dinnae have tae ride, but ye’ll nae be walkin’ either.”
“Alistair! Put me down!”
“Willnae. I’ll nae be lettin’ ye walk on that ankle until Catriona’s seen tae it and told me how bad ‘tis.” He gave her a sharp look when she tried to protest. “Ye were running fer yer life, and ye’ve nae yet fully calmed from the shock o’ it all. I’ve seen men on broken limbs and worse, cripple themselves because they didnae realize how bad they’d been hurt til ‘twas tae late.”
“Ye cannae carry me the whole way.”
Alistair smiled grimly. “Watch me lass.”
Her first response was indignation, but as Alistair began to walk, leading his horse and carrying her in his arms, Niamh calmed. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right.
Her ankle did throb dully within her boot, the more she considered it, and she knew walking would have been extremely painful. She didn’t think it was broken - she was fairly certain it wasn’t - but that didn’t mean she was all right.
She was also still shaking slightly from the aftermath of the violence she’d just witnessed. She’d just seen Alistair and his brother kill eleven men, right in front of her! She’d never seen a man be killed before, let alone so quickly and brutally.
A part of her couldn’t help but rejoice that the brigands were dead and couldn’t attack anyone else. A part of her was sickened by the scent of blood and offal that hung in her nose, and the images in her mind. She understood that what Alistair and Ewan had done had been necessary, and that it had saved her life but that didn’t make it much easier for her stomach to bear. Just as well it had been candle-marks since she last ate.
And yet… for all that she was horrified by the violence of the encounter, and by how close she’d come to an unpleasant fate, she couldn’t help marveling a little at the man who carried her now.
Alistair MacDuff. She’d known before now that he was strong but his skill as a warrior, and the fierce pride and determination that kept her safe in his arms as he tromped over the uneven ground toward the castle, those were things she’d never realized he had. His determination to protect her, even from her own stubbornness, was impressive as well.
And he hadn’t hesitated at all before charging into those brigands, which spoke well of his courage too. The more she considered it, the more she found to admire about her strong, stern, and utterly dependable husband.
Even now, he had to be tired from the fighting, and from the… what had he called it? The shock, that was it, of battle. But he held her in his arms with no more apparent effort than he would have used for lifting a bundle of feathers, and his arms were steady around her, firm as if she rested against a chair instead of another human’s frame.
She’d seen those muscles on their wedding night, but never realized the immense power that lay behind them. She should have been frightened, she thought, and yet, she felt safer than she’d ever felt in her life. Despite her words, she was sure that he’d never drop her, never risk one scratch or bruise more on her skin between the site of the battle and healer’s cottage.
It was a heady thought. A humbling one.
“Ye’re quiet. I would have thought ye’d put up more o’ a fight than this.” Alistair’s observation, laced with amusement, made Niamh blush slightly.
“Well, nay sense wastin’ the words, when I ken ye’ll nae listen tae a thing I say. ‘Tis better than bein’ tied tae yer horse again.”
Alistair laughed, and Niamh felt her skin tingle at the feeling of his laughter reverberating through his broad chest. It made her feel strange, in a warm, enticing way.
They arrived at the castle shortly after to find Catriona waiting at the gate. Her gaze raked over the two of them, then went to Alistair first. “How much o’ that is yers?”
“Nae any, so far as I ken.” Alistair shrugged. “They didnae have time tae mark me.”
“Good.” Catriona tossed her head, setting the beads in her braids to tinkling gently, then led them to the healer’s cottage. “Put her on the cot then.”
Alistair did as he was told, then took two steps back. Catriona glared at him. “Go on. Ye dinnae need tae stay if ye’re nae injured.”
“She’s my wife.” Alistair didn’t move.
Catriona sighed. “Fine, but get out o’ my light, ye great lout, or I’ll give ye an injury tae occupy ye.”
Alistair moved, but not far. Catriona sighed again, then eyed Niamh. “How much o’ the blood is yers?”
“Nae… nae any, I dinnae think. I was never cut…’twas only the shock, and me ankle…” Niamh tried to flex the injured limb and winced.
“Dinnae dae that. Ye let me look at it first.” Catriona undid the straps on the boot and gently eased it off, then removed the woolen sock as well. Niamh winced at the sight of the swelling around the joint. “Tell me when it hurts.”
She rotated it up, and Niamh gasped. Down, another gasp. Then, when she tried side to side, Niamh yelped. “Ow!”
Rotating was no better. “Ayayayayay… och, that hurts like trippin’ over a tree branch…”
“I thought so.” Catriona nodded, then glared at Alistair, who’d been moving closer. “Back yerself up, cousin. Or better yet, get me some water tae heat, and some clean bandages, while I make up a poultice fer her ankle, and a tisane tae soothe the pain and her nerves.”
“What’s wrong? Is it serious?”
“The nerves? Nae at all. ‘Tis only a wee bit o’ shock, and a night’s sleep will see her right - as will a hot meal. As fer the ankle – ‘tis only a sprain. She’s twisted it fair good, but ‘tis naething that willnae heal with a day o’ complete rest, and a cautious eye tae her activity and her pain fer a few days more.” Catriona’s calm voice reassured Niamh.
It didn’t appear to be half so soothing to Alistair. “Ye’re sure? There’s nae break?”
Catriona glared at him. “An’ who’s the healer here, me or ye? O’ course I’m sure! Now, get me the water and bandages!” She waved a hand at him. “Go on, or I’ll put somethin’ in yer mead tae mak’ ye feel ye need a chamber pot fer the next day or so.”
Alistair went, and Catriona went to the other side of the cottage and began to mix together herbs for a poultice. Niamh relaxed at the scent, for it was one she’d used herself. Then Catriona mixed a small packet of valerian and hops. “This will help ye sleep, so mind ye drink it in a cup o’ mulled wine or hot tea afore bed.”
“I will.” Normally, Niamh didn’t like to use such herbs, but she knew she’d get no rest if she didn’t take something. The nightmares would surely come, if she tried to sleep without Catriona’s potion.
Alistair came back with the water and set it to heating. Catriona watched it, then tipped a little over the poultice and applied it, steaming hot, to Niamh’s ankle. Niamh sighed, feeling the relief within moments. Catriona wrapped the bandage firmly, then stood. “Leave that on a while, and I’ll change it out fer a fresh bandage afore ye need tae sleep. Fer now, best ye go tae yer rooms and rest. Ye’ve had a hard day.”
Niamh nodded. “There’s some herbs fer the Samhain smoking on Alistair’s horse…”
“And someone will bring them tae me.” Catriona finally smiled. “Dinnae fret about that. If ye’re concerned about somethin’ tae dae, taemorrow I’ll bring ye some o’ yer other work tae dae.”
“I… all right…” Niamh took a breath, then started to stand.
Alistair was there before she could get even halfway to her feet. “Catriona said nae tae put weight on that fer a day. I’ll tak’ ye up and call fer supper fer ye.”
Niamh blinked as he carried her inside the castle proper. “What o’ ye? Dae ye nae need tae eat as well?”
Alistair’s expression turned grim. “Nae now. First… I’ve a man tae get some answers from.”
Niamh swallowed hard, and wondered why that sentence filled her with such foreboding.