They would stay here for the night. Now that they had Murray, they did not have to rush back to Lairig Dubh.
Only after he tossed a blanket over Elizabeth and took one for himself, assigning each of his men a guard shift through the night, did he allow himself to feel the exhaustion and the pain that coursed through his body. A few hours of rest and he’d be fine. With a clearer head, he would deal with Elizabeth and her lover in the morn.
Chapter Nine
Although she was tied to a tree and worried to death about Jamie, Elizabeth did fall asleep several times during that long night. She noticed when Niall changed places with Shaw and then when Dougal took over. She saw the sky begin to lighten as the sun threatened to rise and she watched as the clouds thickened overhead and rolled ominously above them.
All night long she tried to remember the secret to Shaw’s knots. She’d been successful in loosening them when she was younger and her brother and his friends liked to play tricks on her and the other girls. Fighting them tightened them, so she tried to slide her fingers loose by easing her hands to and fro within the intricate loops. A dagger. What she wouldn’t give for a good, sharp dagger that could cut through the rope and cut off a few dangly bits from her brother’s body, too!
She should feel embarrassed and humiliated, but instead she felt murderous. Dougal had purposely ordered Shaw to take her away so she could not interfere with his plans to beat Jamie to within an inch of life. The earl would never have made such an order and Elizabeth was certain that that part had been Dougal’s decision.
Peering across the clearing, she tried to see if Jamie yet slept. His face was bloodied and swollen. He had not moved since they dropped him there. She needed to see to his injuries before Dougal tried to travel back to Lairig Dubh. Elizabeth was concentrating so hard on freeing herself and on seeing how Jamie fared that she never heard Dougal’s approach from behind her.
“Here,” he said, holding out a skin to her. “Drink.”
Nothing else. No apologies for tying her to a tree and leaving her all night. She was thirsty enough that she would have taken it from him—until she saw the bloody splashes on his hands and arms.
Jamie’s blood.
With the increasing light from the sun, she could see that Jamie must have fought back, for Dougal was a bit bruised about the face. And he grimaced as he leaned over to her.
Good. She hoped he was suffering for what he’d done.
“Connor ordered you to beat him?” she asked.
“Connor ordered me to bring him back alive. I but treated him to the anger of a brother for the mistreatment of his sister.” He held out the skin again.
“‘Twas not your place to do so, Dougal. I did not need you to avenge my honor.”
If he had lived in the village during that previous incident, he would have done the same thing. She tried not to be too angry at him for he did not realize he was returning her to face shame once more before the earl and that it would end with her complete disgrace and exile from their family.
Worse, her parents would bear this shame, too. The earl might be a worldly man and intelligent and willing to forgive a young, stupid and naive girl’s misstep once. But this time would push him into harsher actions against her. The only problem was that she could not explain it to Dougal without first exposing her misjudgment.
She could not bear to have her brother look at her with disappointment in his gaze. That she would not do.
“Drink and I’ll take you so you can see to your needs. You must have to...” He motioned off to the ground, where he and the other men could so easily see to theirs.
“I would see to Jamie, Dougal. Please.”
They had reached a point familiar to both of them. Their innately stubborn natures brought them to it many, many times and it became a joke of a sort between them. Who would give in this time? If she did, would it soften his refusal to let her help Jamie? She must take the chance, for his sake.
She held out her hands and he placed the skin in them, pulling the stopper free. Elizabeth lifted it up and drank slowly. After a few mouthfuls, she handed it back to him. He sealed it and slung it over his shoulder. When she held out her hands to him, he loosened the knots and the ropes dropped off.
It only took a moment to free her feet, but she wobbled as she tried to stand. Dougal grabbed her by the arm and waited until she got her feet beneath her. He tugged her in the other direction from where she wanted to go and walked with her into the trees, looking for a place out of sight of the other men. When they were behind enough trees so she would not be seen, he released her.
“I will wait here. Go, see to your needs.”
She did not take long, once her legs stopped burning from lack of movement, she finished her task and returned to her brother. He walked next to her on the way back to the clearing, allowing her to walk without holding her. So, when they reached the others, she paused and waited, hoping he would let her go to Jamie. He took her by the arm and she thought he meant to tie her up again, but they walked on past the tree and across the clearing to where he lay.
Elizabeth tried not to cry before them, but the tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw the damage her brother had wrought on Jamie.
There was a deep gash that began on his forehead and ran into his hair, which still bled. His left eye was swollen shut and his jaw was mottled with bruises. His lip was split in the center and dried blood covered his face and neck. From the strange way his fingers fell, she thought he might have broken two or three of them on his left hand. It was all she could do not to fall to her knees and wail like abean-shithesinging her song of death. Elizabeth took a deep breath and told Dougal what she needed.
Though he stood there silently watching her, he nodded and left, returning a few minutes later with water, her other shift to use for bandages and some whisky for cleaning the wounds and helping with his pain. She proceeded to clean the wounds she could find, even tearing open the bloodied shirt to find more bruises and cuts on his chest. His head and face were the worst and she thought the gash was deep enough to need stitches—stitches she did not have.
It took her some time and all the while the three men stood off a bit watching and saying nothing. Did they hear her prayers as she whispered them to the Almighty? Elizabeth had helped her mother tend the sick but this was beyond that. What worried her the most was that through it all, through the poking and prodding and cleaning, Jamie never moved or made a sound.
She called Niall over when she needed help wrapping the long strips of linen, torn from her shift, around his chest to support what she thought might be broken or badly bruised ribs. Finally finished, she gathered up the cloths she’d used and handed the water skin back to Dougal.
