Chapter Thirteen #2
"Tell that bastard to help her back up!" Torrin said, hanging onto consciousness by a thread. Iain grasped Torrin's shoulder. Had he swayed?
Dirk stepped forward, eying Jessie clutching the rocky outcropping with both hands. "Pull her up, McMurdo!"
"Promise me, upon your life and your wife's life," McMurdo said, "that you will give me the tomb in the church your father promised me, and I will."
"Aye. Of course! The tomb in the church is yours!" Dirk yelled. "And I'll be glad to put you in it," he growled low.
Hurry, you bastard! Torrin wanted to shout. The lower half of Jessie's body was dangling off the cliff.
"And you'll all let me go free," McMurdo said.
"Aye. You can go free," Dirk said. "Just help her up now or you'll be a dead man buried at sea!"
McMurdo reached a hand down. Clinging to the cliff with one hand, Jessie reached up and grabbed onto McMurdo's hand. He hauled her up to solid ground, then took off, running like a scalded rat.
Torrin, Dirk, and Iain hastened to circumvent the deep ravine and get to Jessie.
Torrin glanced across to find her crawling away from the edge of the cliff.
Sim and Luag finally reached her and helped her to a safer area.
"Thank the saints," Torrin whispered, so much relief flowing through him, the pain vanished for a second.
"Where's Haldane?" Dirk asked, breathing hard.
"Dead," Iain said. "Fell off the cliff with an arrow in his throat."
"In truth?" Dirk glanced at the bow Torrin carried. "You shot him, MacLeod?"
"Aye." All he could focus on was seeing Jessie. Holding her. 'Twas all he cared about. By the time he limped to her, minutes later, he was out of breath and lightheaded, his vision blurring, the pain nigh overwhelming.
His men had helped Jessie move several yards away from the sea cliff's rim where she sat upon the grass. Torrin dropped to his knees beside her and pulled her into his arms. She would never know how precious she was to him.
"Thank God. I feared I'd lost you, Jessie."
Torrin felt himself falling and all went black.
∞∞∞
"Retreat!" MacBain called out to his men.
Damnation, they had lost at least eight men.
But Haldane and his gang had disappeared, leaving the MacBains to fight the MacKays.
The force that had just arrived by galley, along with the men from inside the castle walls, had combined to outnumber them.
'Twas a losing battle, and he couldn't allow more of his men to be slaughtered.
On foot, he and his clan scrambled up the hill and crossed the top. "Are they following?" he shouted back, gasping for breath.
"Nay, they're all headed in the opposite direction."
MacBain paused on top of the grassy hill and squinted, scanning the rocky headland in the distance where all the MacKays were running. Something was going on at the cliff's edge, but 'twas so far, he couldn't see who was involved.
Clearly, joining forces with Haldane MacKay had been a mistake.
The lad had let on like he commanded a large faction of men who were scattered about.
But he'd only had a few, mayhap half a dozen.
Given the strength of the MacKay clan and how they fought for their chief, Dirk, they would never back Haldane as chief, anyway. 'Twas a lost cause.
MacBain had injured Torrin MacLeod in that sword dual, but he hadn't been able to kill him before his sword-bearer had engaged MacBain in a fight and driven him back. He'd had to retreat to save his own skin, but he'd escaped the bastard without much injury.
"Grab the horses and let's get out of here!
" he ordered. "You two stay here, well hidden.
" He pointed to two of his stealthiest men.
"Watch the castle, or find one of Haldane's men—if any of them survived—and see if Torrin MacLeod is alive or dead.
Once you know for certain, head south. We'll wait for you just outside of Scourie. "
"Aye, m'laird," they both murmured.
"We're headed to Scourie?" his sword-bearer asked.
"Aye. And if MacLeod lives, we go toward Munrick."
Moments later, they led the horses from the low-lying thicket where they'd hidden them earlier and mounted.
"What's your plan?" his sword-bearer asked.
"If MacLeod survives, he will head for home eventually.
We'll be waiting for him just north of his keep.
He only had seven men with him, if you recall.
And if Iain Stewart accompanies him, that will be five more, if they all survived the battle.
We'll have them outnumbered. And if he brings Lady Jessie home with him, as his new bride, we'll kill the bastard and then grab her. "
They took off, riding as if the devil were on their tails.
Aye, his plan was brilliant. He no longer cared about her dowry. 'Twas now about pride and revenge. No one got the best of Gregor MacBain.
∞∞∞
"He still lives," Iain said, kneeling on the other side of Torrin, passed out on the grass.
"Thank the saints," Jessie whispered, the cooler air of gloaming and the harsh wind blasting the headland giving her a shiver. When Torrin had dropped to the ground beside her, she'd feared he was dead. He'd lost so much blood, his skin was pale. But thankfully, he still breathed.
They both rose and stood aside as three of Torrin's men moved in and hoisted him up onto their shoulders, then carried him toward the dunes leading to the castle. Iain followed them.
"Are you well, sister?" Dirk asked, limping toward her.
"Aye, are you hurt?" She glanced down at his leg, seeing no fresh injury below the bottom of his plaid.
"'Tis my calf, still healing from where Gil shot me with an arrow several weeks ago." Dirk shook his head. "When I saw you hanging off that cliff—" Fear sharpened his gaze. "I remember what 'tis like."
She nodded. But, thirteen years ago, Dirk had hung off the side of a cliff all night.
She couldn't imagine the prolonged terror he must have felt.
"Aye, I'm well. Thanks to McMurdo." Who would've ever imagined the murderer saving anyone's life?
"But we must get MacLeod back to the keep and the healer," she said, still feeling jittery and weak from having almost fallen to her death.
"Indeed," her older brother said. "Let's go," he called out to the MacKays.
Torrin's men carried him quickly, ahead of everyone else.
Please, God, keep him alive.
Dirk walked over and stood at the edge of the ravine, staring down toward the rocks and the sea where their youngest brother had met his death.
A flash of grief cut through her, for no matter Haldane's crimes—and even though he would've killed her with no qualms—he had once been her wee brother.
She knew Dirk felt the loss of one of their own, too.
She rushed to catch up to Torrin's men, transporting him through the sand dunes. The rest of the MacKays and Dirk's friends followed.
A quarter hour later, they entered Dunnakeil. The men carried Torrin to his chamber, while Jessie dashed to Erskine's room to get Nannag, but she wasn't there.
"Where is Nannag?" Jessie asked Flora, one of the healers-in-training who watched over the sleeping sword-bearer.
"In Lady Isobel's chamber."
Fear flashed through Jessie. "Why? Is she hurt?"
"She fainted while she was watching the battle and hit her head. She feared Chief Dirk had been hurt or killed."
"Saints." Jessie ran toward the laird's chamber, praying Isobel was not injured too badly. In the corridor, she found Nannag and her two helpers.
"Please go to Laird MacLeod's chamber. He is severely injured and has lost a lot of blood."
"Aye, m'lady," the ancient healer said. Carrying her medicine satchel filled with herbs and no telling what else, she and her two younger helpers quickened their pace.
While Jessie wanted to go with them immediately, she also needed to check on Isobel.
Upon bypassing the guard and entering the room, she found Isobel sitting before the hearth, Seona beside her.
"Were you injured badly?" Jessie asked.
"Where is Dirk?" Isobel demanded, leaping to her feet and rushing forward, her eyes red.
"He was right behind me. He is well."
"Oh, thank the saints," Isobel whispered, pressing a hand to her chest and looking much relieved. "I saw him fall. After the guard brought me to my chamber, he wouldn't allow me to leave."
"And Keegan?" Seona asked, standing beside Isobel.
"Thankfully, he was unhurt, too. But Torrin was badly injured. He's out cold and has lost a lot of blood."
"Och, nay! I am sorry," Isobel said. "And here I have held you up."
"I wanted to see that you were well. I'll be in Torrin's room," Jessie said, dashing out the door.
When Jessie entered the crowded room, Torrin growled, his eyes closed, his teeth clenched in pain. Thank the saints he had awakened.
"Everyone out," Nannag ordered Torrin's men, and Iain. How could such a strong and commanding voice come from such an aged and tiny woman? The men obediently filed out, but when Nannag found Jessie still standing by the door, she said in a gentler tone, "You too, m'lady."
"I will help."
"You can help by going to fetch Flora for me. And tell her to bring some hot water." She smiled sweetly, then rushed back to Torrin's bedside. "Cut his doublet and shirt off," she murmured to one of her helpers.
What if Torrin died while Jessie was out of the room? Nay, he cannot die!
Praying the whole way, Jessie did as Nannag asked and retrieved Flora.
Back at Torrin's chamber a short time later, Jessie waited outside the door with Iain and Struan, though she felt uncomfortable doing so. She did not know the men well, and they sent her inquiring glances. Did they know how close she and Torrin had grown? What had he told them?