A little while later, the door opened, and Erik strode in. “I hear congratulations are in order,” his second-in-command replied heartily, a grin on his face.
“Bloody hell, not ye too,” Kaiden grumbled, shifting in the bed as the other Scot took the chair that was beside it. “I cannae believe he went and found a lass willing tae marry a dead man.”
Erik arched a brow. “I dinnae see a dead Scot just yet.”
Kaiden blew out a breath. “I’m closer than any other.” It was the truth. He had no qualms that he would be dead in the next few months, but the thought of leaving his father to defend the keep on his own rolled his stomach.
“Well, nevertheless, she’s a lovely one,” Erik replied. “I hear she’s a healer.”
“Enough,” Kaiden growled, not wishing to discuss it for now. “Tell me of the scouts.”
Erik’s grin faded, and Kaiden felt dread creep into his bones. “They allowed one tae return,” Erik said softly, anger flooding his features. “The Scot was half dead when he crawled into the village. They have fortified their ranks, Kaiden. ’Tis only a matter of time before they attack.”
Kaiden fisted the sheets, wishing he could plant them into the stone wall across the room. The same clan that had put him in this bed had gone home to lick their wounds, but it seemed they were not done with Clan McGregor just yet.
“I dinnae know wot they are waiting on,” Erik was saying, allowing worry to creep into his voice.
“And our ranks?” Kaiden asked, his tongue thick in his mouth.
“We are better than four months ago,” Erik stated, his brow creasing. “But we wilnae be able tae survive an all-out attack if they march toward the village. I would much prefer tae catch them on the battlefield again. At least we can use some element of surprise.”
Kaiden swallowed as he thought of that very battlefield, how Erik had dragged him out of the fray and got him here despite his own injuries. If his second-in-command had not been there, right beside him that day, Kaiden would have come home with a tartan draped over his face instead.
But now, he was talking about things that Kaiden couldn’t even help with. If Erik took their warriors to battle, Kaiden would be mourning the loss of his closest friend in a matter of hours. It had nothing to do with Erik’s ability to fight. No, his second-in-command held that title for a reason.
It was because there would be no one watching his back, and if he went up against the same Scot that Kaiden had, the outcome would be dismal indeed. “Nay,” Kaiden rasped, forcing the emotion from his words. “Dinnae attempt that right now.”
“Then when?” Erik pressed, clearly not happy with Kaiden’s decision. “I wilnae say these words because I think ye are weak, but ye are in that bed, and I am the one shouldering this decision, Kaiden. I cannae...I cannae stand idly by and watch our keep be overrun and our clan slaughtered because we didnae act!”
Kaiden knew Erik’s concerns were valid, but he couldn’t send them into battle. He couldn’t lose him. “A fortnight,” he finally said. “A fortnight tae prepare.”
Erik snorted as he pushed out of the chair, striding to the door. “Aye, mah lord.”
Kaiden ground his teeth as Erik walked out of the chamber, cursing at the empty space. Erik didn’t agree with his plans, but Kaiden was still their leader, and even though he wasn’t laird yet, his father would not go against his word.
He had a fortnight, and now he couldn’t just let himself waste away any longer in this bed.
Which meant he needed help. It was the one thing he never wanted to admit to, but he couldn’t let Erik and their warriors march into battle without him. He couldn’t allow them to be slaughtered without swinging his sword right alongside them.
Kaiden threw back the covers and glanced down at his leg. It would take a miracle to be able to do that.
4
Ferra walked down the stairs to the great hall, her heart twisting as she thought about her own home and what her parents would be doing right now. Likely, they would be sitting down to dinner as she was about to, her father telling her mother about some meeting he had today that was troubling him. Her mother, in her soft voice, would provide some sort of advice to her husband, and they would share a smile that Ferra would never fully understand.
The thought robbed her of her breathing, and she paused on the stairs, desperately wishing she were at home at this moment. The keep itself was far richer than her family’s was, her chambers lavish and befitting of the lady of the keep. The servant that had shown her the room had explained that the laird had already ordered for the seamstress to meet with Ferra by the end of the week for a new wardrobe, and while Ferra should be grateful, she couldn’t drum up any thoughts other than the Scot she had encountered earlier. It hadn’t taken long for her to realize what was ailing him.
He had given up. Of course, his wound was horrid. She could smell it from the doorway and wanted nothing more than to look at the current work that had been done to get the wound to close.
But his needs were far more than just a healer’s ministrations. She could see in his eyes that he didn’t deem himself worthy of going on living. It was a shame, really. Kaiden McGregor was a handsome man, with rugged features and a strong jawline that was dusted in the same redish color as the hair on his head. She could see the ravage of the illness on his body, however; the sweat that had dotted his skin and the sickly pallor that typically came with infection. While she imagined he was quite the sight in his prime, the man lying in that bed was nothing of the sort.
It made her want to help him even more.
Ferra straightened her shoulders and continued into the great hall, finding her father-in-law seated at a long table by himself. “Good evening, lass,” he said, waving her over. “I hope ye are hungry.”
She was. Ferra took the chair at his right hand, and he poured a mug of ale for her before pushing it toward her. “Ye look as if ye could use it.”
“Thank ye,” she said softly, raising it to her lips. The table was ladened with a simple fare of meats, cheeses, and bread. “Are we expecting anyone else?”
