She knelt in front of Adair. He was a big man. Muscular. A warrior. Just like her John and every Campbell commander before them. But Adair was dark to John’s light. He’d been promoted into the position after John’s death. She’d not had much contact with him because she had moved away from the big house occupied by Campbell.
Adair was looking at her with surprisingly bright blue eyes. His face had lost all color, and drops of sweat dotted his brow.
“Ye’ll have to pull yer arm away,” she said.
He gritted his teeth and moved his arm in slow, jerky movements.
Cait had seen a lot of wounds in her time as a healer. This was not one of the worst she’d seen, but neither was it minor. The midsection of his shirt was soaked in bright red blood, as was the arm that had been protecting the wound.
“I’ll need more light.” A lantern appeared at her side, and she lifted it to get a better look. “The shirt is stuck to the wound.”
She glanced up at Iain, who was watching her with dark, impenetrable eyes. His expression never revealed his thoughts, which was always disconcerting to her. John had said that he buried his emotions, but Cait wasn’t certain the man possessed any emotions.
“I’ll need water. Warm is best. There’s a ewer on the counter. Place it by the fire to warm it.”
To her surprise, the great clan leader immediately did as she instructed.
“We’ll need to move ye,” she said to Adair. “Ye’ll need to be lying down for this.”
Adair tried to rise but fell back on the chair with a groan. Cait shoved her shoulder under his arm, taking his hand and draping it across her back. “On the count of three, we’ll rise. One…two…” Adair tensed. “Three.”
She braced herself to take Adair’s full weight, rising slowly so as not to jar him. She got him standing, but he was swaying precariously, and she wasn’t certain she could keep him standing if he decided to fall.
“Ye’ll need a bed. Can ye manage the stairs?”
“Aye.”
“Let’s go, then.” She’d patched up enough warriors to know not to baby them. Besides, it wasn’t in her nature to baby her patients. Being honest about what she was doing and direct in her approach worked much better.
They made it two steps before Adair’s legs gave out. She tucked her shoulder more snugly under his arm and propelled him forward. After another two steps, Campbell was on Adair’s other side, and Cait was glad for the help.
“We’re going upstairs,” she said. Thoughts of getting them out of here quickly were long gone; now she needed to get the two warriors away from the fugitives beneath their feet as quickly as possible. Her plan was to fix Adair and send Campbell home. Any noise Adair might hear could be marked up to deliriousness from a fever or the effects of the concoction she was about to give him.
With Campbell’s help, they made it up the stairs and to her bedroom, where Adair very ungracefully fell back on the bed with a moan. Cait pulled up his shirt, mindful of the threads that had fused to the wound.
“I’ll fetch the water,” Campbell said, and disappeared back down the steps.
The wound wasn’t as bad as she had thought. The ball was not buried too deep, and she could dig it out.
Campbell reappeared with the water, and Cait began to cleanse the wound. “There are cups on the shelves in the kitchen. On the top shelf is a bottle of whiskey, next to that is the honey. I’ll need all three.”
When Campbell didn’t move, she looked up to find him watching her, one corner of his lips slightly crooked up.
“Well? What are ye waiting for?”
Campbell disappeared down the steps again, and Cait bit back a grin to think that she had the upper hand with this man. No doubt Campbell wasn’t used to being commanded—especially by her—but he was taking it admirably well. John would have shaken his head at her mettle, but he also would have grinned with her.
Campbell returned with the supplies she’d requested.
“Pour the whiskey and make him drink it.”
“Nay,” Adair said.
“Aye,” Cait said. “This will be painful, and ye’ll need it.”
“Nay.” Adair turned his pain-drenched glare to Campbell. “I won’t befuddle my mind.”
“Do as she says,” Campbell said to him, and managed to get Adair to drink enough that his head was lolling to the side and his eyes were drifting closed by the time Cait started fishing for the ball in his gut.
