The bitterness at the back of his throat and the harsh bile spiking to the surface all contributed to his panic. It clawed at him, twisting the pit of his stomach into tight knots till he felt a raw ache consume him.
“Dinnae die,” he chanted as he made his way out of the mass and headed for his horse. “Dinnae die… Help!” he yelled at the top of his lungs as he neared the villagers. “Any healer… I need a healer.”
Most of the children and women stayed silent as he wandered around with Lily in his arms. He found an empty shed and laid her down on the ground there. His hands shook as he took out his dirk, cut a large piece of his kilt, and wrapped it around her bleeding head.
Killian rushed away from Lily for a few minutes and returned with some herbs he had gathered from the fields. The fire had burned down most of the plants here, and the only way he was certain she would survive was if he took her back to his castle.
But that means abandoning my people here… leaving them to fight on their own.
Torn, he crushed the herbs in his hands, applied some to the wound on her head, then flipped her over and pulled out the arrow in her back. Blood gushed out, and his heart bled at the sight of it.
He covered her wounds with the herbs, hoping they would stop the bleeding, then he checked her pulse again.
She’s alive.
But her pulse was barely there.
Killian saw Fletcher and some of his men prance towards him on horseback some minutes later while he sat there with Lily in his arms.
“They retreated,” Fletcher reported as soon as he reached Killian and dismounted his horse. “Is she…”
“She’s breathin’,” Killian answered when he saw the terrified look that flashed in Fletcher’s eyes.
Fletcher motioned for the men to stay put, and then he drew closer to where Killian sat with Lily in his arms. “We must take her to shelter and find the village’s healer.”
“These people willnae help me,” Killian whispered in a pained voice as he remembered shouting for help earlier. They had watched him without offering to help, and he did not blame them.
Since he had become laird, he had been so consumed with his plot for revenge that he had forgotten what really mattered—protecting his people.
“There is a cabin here in Wehnthor yer brother used when he was alive. I can take ye there. Hopefully, it hasnae beendestroyed in the raids. Ye must also treat yer wounds, m’laird… Yer health is important.”
Killian looked down at Lily’s pale face again and felt another pang of guilt hit him.
“M’laird,” Fletcher urged again, reaching forward to lift Lily from his arms.
Killian gathered his strength, pushed his worry aside, and rode with Fletcher and his men to the cabin near the Wehnthor cliff. Hours later, when the healer Fletcher had brought had finished tending to Lily’s wounds and his, Killian sat outside by the cliff and watched the waterfall on the opposite side.
It was a beautiful sight, peaceful even, and it reminded him of the years he had spent traveling beyond the Scottish Highlands. He tried not to worry about Lily, as the healer had mentioned she would be all right.
Once she recovered, he would send her back to his castle and make sure she stayed there, where she would be safe.
I will not be responsible for her death.
When Killian heard footsteps behind him, he sprang to his feet and turned to see Fletcher dragging a prisoner along.
“M’laird, we captured him before the other men retreated at their leader’s command,” Fletcher called, shoving the man tothe ground before drawing his sword and aiming it at his neck. “Speak!”
Killian stared hard at the prisoner. His jaw clenched along with his fist.
“Laird McLennan sent us,” the man said as he coughed and spat out blood. “He asked us to raid the village and kill every man we can find. He doesnae care for the lass ye took. He only wants war, and he will come for ye soon.”
Fletcher took out his sword, lifted it high, and drove it through the man’s heart before he said anything else. Killian reeled with anger at the man’s words, and he struggled to keep his composure.
“We cannae let him get away with this,” Fletcher spoke. “He brought war to us, and we must—”
“We shall do nothin’,” Killian ordered. “I believe Laird McLennan is innocent in all of this.”
“Because the lass defended him?” Fletcher asked almost immediately. “M’laird, ye must nae let her blind ye from the truth. She only seeks to protect her laird, to whom she is loyal… She isnae our ally, m’laird.”
