The laird looked at his advisor and his ambassador, giving them a faint nod. “Peace. If this culprit is captured, I will sit down with Laird Wallace. That is mah vow.” He looked at Ida. “After all, he saved two of mah family members. A Scot who is willing tae risk his life tae help his enemy is a Scot that I want tae be allied with.”
Ida’s breath left in a whoosh and she looked over at Ian, seeing the blood that covered him. He had gotten what he wanted, yet he wasn’t awake to hear the words.
Because of her.
The laird walked off and the men gathered to discuss their plans, Iris making her way to Ida’s side. “I’m going with them,” she told Ida, her jaw clenched and pain haunting her eyes. “I am still a Wallace and if one of mah clansmen did this, then I want tae be there.” She glanced at her brother. “I need ye tae watch over him.”
“Of course,” Ida said, her throat working.
Iris gave her a nod and with that, she moved with the rest of the group that was gathering.
“Go tae him,” her uncle said a moment later, having watched the exchange. “I’m fine lass. He needs ye more than I do right now.”
Ida gave him a grateful look and a squeeze on his hand before she moved to Ian’s side, dipping the rag in the bowl next to him to gently wipe away the dirt and soot from his handsome face. “Ye have tae wake, Ian,” she told him. “Yer clan needs ye. I need ye.” Ian was clearly the backbone of his family and his clan and without him… Ida didn’t want to think about not having him in her life.
21
Ian jerked awake, blinking rapidly to make his surroundings come into his vision. Wooden beams were above his head and there was the low murmur of voices around him, a hard wooden surface under his back.
His body ached, pain radiating from every part of him, but he was alive.
“Ian?”
Ian blinked and looked to his right, grimacing in pain. Ida was there, her eyes widening and she let out a soft cry. “Yer awake!”
He struggled to lift his body but Ida was right there, shaking her head. “Nay donna move. The healers said ye should stay still.”
Then his memories came flooding back to him. The stables on fire, going back in for her uncle, the building collapsing around them.
His da asking if he wanted to go back to the living.
Ian groaned, relaxing on the surface once more. “Please tell mah that yer uncle made it.”
She reached up, cupping his cheek. “Aye he did,” she answered, her eyes filling with tears. “I canna tell ye how grateful I am for ye.”
Ian swallowed. “Help mah up, lass.”
Ida cleared her throat but she didn’t say another word, helping him to a seating position. Ian realized that he was laying on one of the tables in the council room where he had been turned down by the laird a few months prior. “We were too frightened tae move ye,” Ida explained, handing him a tin cup of water. “Ye were touch and go for a while there.”
Ian took careful sips, his body aching in places he would have never imagined. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“Three days,” she answered, taking the cup from him. “We weren’t sure if ye would ever wake.”
Three days. He had lost three days when it only seemed like a few moments to him.
“I need tae get the others,” Ida said, wringing her hands. “There’s much tae discuss.” She looked as worn out as he felt and Ian wondered what had happened while he was unconscious.
So he didn’t stop her, sliding himself from the table. The moment his bare feet hit the floor, his knees buckled and he barely had time to fall into the nearby chair, which was a sight better than the table he had been laying on. Ian’s body felt like a newborn foal just finding its legs. A quick check told him that he had all his limbs and digits, but there was a bandage wrapped all the way around his body near his abdomen and his head felt as if someone had tried to split it open.
There was another bandage on his left leg, his breeks cut off at his knee and he still smelled like woodsmoke, clinging to what was left of his clothing.
But he was alive. He had come back.
There was a commotion at the door before his sister burst into the room, her hair streaming down her back. “Oh thank the gods!” she cried out, James right on her heels. “Yer awake!”
“I will go back tae sleep if ye keep shouting at mah,” he grumbled, rubbing his head. “Tell mah what has happened.”
It was Stephan and Remy who stepped toward him, both having looks of utter relief on their faces. “Yer back amongst the living,” Stephan replied with a smirk. “Though ye look and smell like death.”
