Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The gates of the castle loomed closer and closer as Eleanor rode on the back of a horse. Help had come soon after Iain and the men with horses came and pulled them apart, placing Eleanor on one horse while Andrew and Callum were carefully laid over the others. She had prayed for help to come.
We are all still alive.
Eleanor finally took a deep breath as she went over all of the events from the past few weeks.
It had been Donald Kincaid all along. She could not believe that the man had been using so many aliases to hide his identity.
Stewart was his father’s name, and Duncan Fraser had never existed at all.
She briefly wondered if the name had belonged to a fallen laird, but even if it had, it no longer mattered.
The matter was settled and done with nothing left to be done.
Every muscle in her body ached as she fought against the exhaustion that was threatening to claim her with every breath. She had not been physically wounded, but her mind hurt as if she had taken a few blows.
At least we are all still alive.
The horse’s hooves soon clattered over the cobbled entryway to the castle, yet the moment of relief was short-lived as Eleanor’s eyes were met with a sad sight.
Servants and clansmen moved quickly about the courtyard, tending to the wounded, carrying buckets of water, speaking in hushed, urgent tones.
The air itself felt strained, stretched thin between relief and grief.
The heavy scent of blood still hung in the air, and nobody seemed to even notice their presence as they hurried about.
Eleanor’s heart ached for those around her as she dismounted, her boots hitting the ground harder than she intended. Her hands trembled as she released the reins, her gaze scanning the chaos instinctively. The soldier who had been riding in front of her quickly clambered to the ground at her side.
“Mistress, ye should be more careful,” he pleaded with her and offered his hand.
But Eleanor looked away as he waited for the other horses to come in as well.
Andrew.
The memory of him pale and bleeding in her arms struck her anew, and her chest tightened painfully. She had thought he had been dead, and the memory of uncertainty still struck her as she gripped the reins a little tighter.
The other horse quickly followed suit, and Eleanor watched as first Callum, and then Andrew, were helped from their horses. The bleeding in Andrew’s neck had stopped, but the blood still seeped through the makeshift bandages that Eleanor had tied around Callum’s leg.
Her heart clenched at the sight, but both Andrew and Callum seemed to be in far too much pain to take notice of where she was.
Servants rushed forward, helping the men as they hurried to secure the laird and his companion.
Eleanor was just about to turn and go in search of Bran when a maid came rushing forward.
“Mistress, ye must come at once!” The young girl’s cheeks were flushed with color as she hurried forward, and Eleanor instantly recognized her as the maid that Iain had been flirting with on that day with the laundry.
“Is it Marion?” Eleanor asked at once.
Iain looked up, but his attention was instantly drawn back to the task at hand as the Laird struggled to stand on his own.
Please let her be alive.
Eleanor said a silent prayer before turning back to the young girl. “Is she…”
The girl swallowed hard, but nodded. “Ye should come at once, Mistress… Fiona is waiting for ye.”
Without wasting any more time, Eleanor followed the young girl, picking her way through the broken courtyard with pieces of weaponry and broken barrels lying about.
There was no telling how many people had been wounded, or even killed, but Eleanor only cared about one now that she knew that Andrew and Callum would be okay.
The inside of the castle was just as messy as the courtyard, as men and women were dragged inside and laid to the side.
Eleanor’s eyes searched for Fiona, or even a glimpse of Marion, but neither of the women was anywhere to be seen.
They hurried along busy corridors and through the kitchens until Eleanor was not certain at all of where they were headed.
“Just up ahead,” the girl looked back over her shoulder and beckoned Eleanor as if she could read her mind.
Waiting for the large oak doors to be unlatched, Eleanor barely waited for them to open before pushing through. The sight that met her gaze made her blood run cold.
The dimly lit room held several stretchers, with a large table in the middle. Herbs and spices hung from the rafters in bunches. It was clear to Eleanor that it was a healer’s chambers of sorts, but the sight that took her breath away was the lifeless figure of Marion lying on the bed.
Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath and walked toward the stretcher, closing the distance between them in a matter of seconds. Kneeling, she took Marion’s cold hand in hers.
“Nae, this cannae be…” Eleanor whispered, tears pricking her eyes.
Marion’s face was as white as a sheet, and her chest was still.
Dread flooded her body as Eleanor began to mourn one of the only friends she had ever made in her life.
Images of her younger brother’s lifeless body flashed before her eyes.
It had been her fault that he had drowned, she knew it.
Everyone had tried to tell her that she was not to blame, but Eleanor knew she should not have been reading while her brother was swimming.
She blamed herself for giving in to her own selfish desires and sending Marion from her chambers.
“Take heart, lass, she is but asleep.” Eleanor felt a gentle hand on her shoulders as someone whispered from above her.
Looking up, Eleanor locked eyes with Fiona, who was staring down at her with a gentle smile on her lips.
“She lost a lot of blood, lass, but I trust that she will wake up again. She needs her rest now, as do ye. Ye look as if ye have seen better days,” Fiona pressed gently.
Coming to her feet, Eleanor quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. “I am well; it is Marion who needs all of our attention.” Her eyes began to burn from the sheer force of trying to keep them open.
“What ye need, lass, is a bath and some rest. If we can manage to fit in some ale and a bite to eat, ye will be well on yer way to recovery,” Fiona prompted her gently before turning back around to Freya. “Fetch a bath and heat some water for the mistress.”
Freya hesitated at first, glancing at the bed while wringing her hands together in front of her apron.
“Was there somethin’ else that ye needed?” Fiona raised her brows.
“It is just… I just…” Tears welled in the young girl’s eyes as Freya eyed the bed.
“Yer friend will be fine,” Fiona said.
“But she wasnae yer friend,” Eleanor added, reading the guilt on the young girl’s face.
Looking from one to the other, Fiona nodded. “I see.”
Freya shook her head as she dropped her gaze. “Nay, I wasnae her friend. I kent very well that she was in love with Iain, but I flirted with him and teased her whenever I could. If I could take back things now, I… I…” Her voice broke again as a fresh flood of tears fell down her cheeks.
Closing the distance between them, Fiona smiled at the young girl as she lifted a hand and placed it on her shoulder.
“Yet ye stayed by her side all this time and helped me to save her life. Those actions are nae the actions of someone who doesnae care. Ye may not have gotten everythin’ right in the past, but ye are tryin’ now, and that is what matters. ”
The glossy look of tears in the young girl’s eyes grew brighter as she turned her head and tried to hide.
Yet her sniffles gave her away despite her fierce attempts to quickly clean her cheeks.
“I must go now, I shall have yer bath and tea ready soon, Mistress.” She curtsied quickly without turning her head and hurried from the room.
Glancing back at the bed where her friend still lay, unmoving, Eleanor nodded. “I hope they all come around in the end.”
Fiona paused for a moment at the side of the bed and looked at Eleanor, her eyes searching for what she had meant.
Was I only thinkin’ of Iain and Marion?
Her mind knew that she had been thinking of Iain and his feelings toward Marion, but her heart whispered another name entirely.
What does Callum mean to me?
Early morning light kissed her face, making Eleanor blink back her sleep as she struggled to bring the world into focus.
How long has it been?
She raised a hand to her forehead and attempted to block out the light. She could see from her surroundings that she was still in the healer’s chambers below the kitchens, but she could not recall how long she had been asleep.
“Are ye awake, Mistress?” A familiar voice made Eleanor’s eyes shoot open as she sat up straight in bed.
“Marion, is that ye?” Eleanor’s heart raced a hundred beats per minute as the previous day’s events flashed across her mind.
There had been a battle, and Callum and Andrew had been wounded, but Marion had almost lost her life.
Blinking back her confusion, Eleanor looked at her dearest friend who now lay smiling at her from the stretcher opposite hers.
Marion’s face was still deathly pale, but her eyes had at least opened. “Aye, Mistress, it is I. I cannae recall what happened, but it feels as if a hundred bags of flour have been placed on me chest.” Her voice was weak.
Quickly coming to her senses, Eleanor rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands and hurried to her feet, making her way to Marion’s side.
“There was a battle. Someone inside the castle hurt ye, I daenae ken who it was, but I am hoping that the Laird can find them soon. That is, if he hasnae found them already.”
The Laird.