“Aye.” Of course she’d light a candle and say the words. She just wished she’d inherited her mother’s talents when it came to the mysteries and influencing the way of things. She’d yet to see any results from uttering words, lighting candles, or burning bundles of herbs.
No time to mourn lost abilities now.Catriona motioned forward the ever-growing cluster of servants peeping into the room through multiple arched doorways lining the great hall. “Come. The lot of ye. We’ve work to do. Our healing room will be here in the hall.”
Gaersa emerged from the turret stairwell, her face round and shining with sweat and her plump arms pumping at her sides. She waddled as fast and furious as her matronly form would allow. With a swipe of her fingers across her forehead, she tucked in the strands of gray hair escaping out from under the ruffles of her white cap. After a deep intake of air, she clapped her hands and barked out her orders. “Blankets. Linens. Hot water and basins. In front of the hearths. Off with ye now!”
Servants mobilized. White-capped maids scurried to fetch the required items and scullery lads rushed to pull the long dinner tables and benches out of the way.
Catriona gazed down at the two wounded men, concern, compassion, and indecision fighting for supremacy within her.Who in God’s name did this to ye? And will they follow ye and do the same to us?
“Are ye tetched?” The familiar bellowing sneer echoed from across the room.
“No worse than yourself, dear brother.” Catriona spared a glance back at her belligerent twin. “I’ve no time to deal with ye, Calum. Take the boys and go if ye’re no' inclined to help us tend to these men.”
“We can help.” Twins Murray and Dougal sprang out from behind their older brother. The pair of nine-year-olds grabbed hold of a nearby bench and started wrestling it toward the wall.
“Fine boys, ye are, the both of ye.” Catriona gave them a proud nod. At least her youngest brothers were still her allies. She waved a hand toward them as she turned her attention back to her other two siblings who would just as soon feed her to the wolves. “The two of ye could take lessons from Murray and Dougal. Willing to help their fellow man, they are. It might do both your souls some good to learn their ways, I grant ye that.”
Calum and her fifteen-year-old brother, Angus, glared at her from where they stood beside the chief’s chair on the raised platform at the head of the room. Both stood with chests puffed out like insulted birds of prey, glowering at the readying of the hall for the wounded.
“Dinna worry after my soul, dear sister,” Calum said. A low growl added a deeper level of hatred to his words. He made a pompous sweeping motion with one hand, encompassing the entire room. “The dead of winter and ye’re taking in more mouths to feed?” He glared at her and took a threatening step forward, fisted hands trembling at his sides. “Damned foolish, it is. Ye’re showing complete disregard for the well-being of your own clan.”
Catriona ignored him as she directed Geordie and Tamhas, two men from the hunting group, to place the injured men on tables the servants had padded with blankets and placed close to one of the hearths. “Gentle as ye can, lads. Gentle as ye can.”
“Ye will do me the courtesy of listening when I speak, Catriona. Do ye hear me? I willna have ye risking the survival of our clan by taking in complete strangers who look to have been involved in who knows what sort of ill-gotten venture. Did it ever occur to ye that ye could endanger all of us by taking in possible traitors to the Crown?” Calum glared at her as though she mattered less than the scraps thrown to the dogs. “'Tis damned foolish and I’ll no’ permit it, ye ken?”
“Aye,” young Angus chimed in, taking another step forward to keep himself shoulder to shoulder with Calum.
I’ve no time for your arrogant arses, dear brothers.Catriona drew in a calming breath and released it in a slow, controlled hiss, determined to hold her tongue and not rise to Calum’s bait. She’d learned long ago that ignoring Calum was the surest way to vex him and she did so at every opportunity.
“Fetch Elena,” she said to Sawny as she tended to the man who seemed to be in the worse condition of the two.
Sawny bolted toward the door, barely pausing long enough to bundle up with an extra plaid before rushing out into the bitter cold weather to follow his mistress’s orders.
“I bid ye respond, sister!” Calum slammed a hand down hard atop the chieftain’s table. “In fact, I demand it!” His deep voice boomed with barely held fury. Calum’s temper matched the flaming red of his hair and his cruelty knew no bounds. All in the keep feared him. All except Catriona.
Spoiled bastard.Mother had always coddled him, justified it by saying he’d nearly died at birth whilst Catriona had thrived. Catriona squared off and faced Calum. “I hear your words, brother. Since it’s obvious ye’ll be of no help, I bid that ye at least stay out of my way. Can ye manage that, Calum? You and your wee shadow there?” Teeth clenched, she lifted her chin and glared at her brothers, daring them to challenge her. She was in no mood to try to keep Calum appeased today.
“Come, Angus,” Calum said with a dismissive huffing snort. “We shall deal with Catriona later, after I’ve apprised Father of this foolhardiness. Last I checked, he still led Clan Neal.”
Angus shot Catriona a taunting sneer before trotting off to catch up with his older brother.
Fools.'Twould do little good to run to Father. Their sire’s only concern of late was how quickly he could drown himself in whisky and port. He cared even less about kith and kin than he had when he was strong enough to emerge from his rooms—and then he didna give a tinker’s damn.
Catriona returned her attention to her deathly still patient. As gently as she could, she peeled away the man’s blood-encrustedléine.A low hiss escaped her as the clotted wounds fought to hold tight to the weave of the cloth then oozed with fresh blood when she pulled the material free. Judas, so much blood and damage. How could one man survive such?
She unsheathed the blade she kept belted to her waist and cut away the soiled bloody garment bit by bit. Bile rose at the back of her throat. A hard swallow kept it at bay as she clamped her lips tight against the sight before her. She refused to flinch or turn away.
“Blessed Mother,” Gaersa whispered from the opposite side of the table. “The man’s a bloody mess. How does he still draw breath?”
Catriona agreed. 'Twas small wonder this great brute of a man still lived. His body looked as though he’d fought an entire regiment.
“Best prop his injured leg a bit higher,” Catriona said as she uncovered the vicious wound in his thigh. “'Twill ease the stress off the wound as we work.” She pulled away the remainder of his kilt, revealing his man parts in the process.Sweet Jesu, Mary, and Joseph.Her breath caught in her throat at the increased pace of her heartbeat. The braw comely warrior was quite blessed indeed.
“My my…a giant of a man and no' lacking beneath his kilt either. That’s for certain.” Gaersa hurried to drape a linen across him and gave Catriona a stern shake of her head. “'Tis no' proper for a lady, a maiden, mind ye, such as yourself to be seeing such. Ye tend to his wounds from the waist up. Elena and I will tend to his injuries from the waist down.”
Elena Bickerstaff, Clan Neal’s healer, appeared at Gaersa’s side. The frail crone shrugged off her wraps and cloak and handed them to Sawny without taking her eyes off the man stretched across the length of the table. “This warrior has seen great troubles.” The old woman stretched her bent frame up on tip toe to peer closer at the man. With narrowed eyes and sparse white brows knotted together, her thin, bony hands flitted all across his body, examining every wound.
She finished with a sharp shake of her head. Her knobby hands planted on the side of the pallet, she straightened as much as her twisted back would allow and scowled across him at Catriona. “Still full of lead, he is, and some of his wounds already set to festering. We’ll have to get the bullets out of him and cauterize the wounds.” She gave him another slow sweeping, up and down look. The silver-white wisps of hair peeping out from under her cap fluttered about her wrinkled face like cobwebs. “He’s a great beast of a man, he is. Muscled. Strong. 'Tis probably all that’s kept him alive.” She hitched her way over to the second man and began her examination of him.
