And inside, she found him.
Ailean stood by the hearth, an iron poker in his hand. “Fiona,” he slurred. “What are ye doing here?”
She ignored his question, focusing instead on his face. Blood streamed down his cheek from a gash to his forehead. His lower lip was swelling.
“Satan’s cods,” she breathed. “What did they do to ye?”
“They would have done far worse.” He attempted a grin and winced. “But I saw the shitebags off.”
Fiona’s lips parted with shock. One against five. Armed only with a poker. And he’d sent them running.
He swayed on his feet, nearly toppling into the fire. Fiona rushed forward and caught his arm, steadying him. “Ye need to sit down, Ailean,” she said urgently. “Come.”
She shifted him sideways to where a stool lay overturned from the fight, righted it, and gently pushed him down onto it.
“Who were they?” she asked, even as her gaze flicked to the open doorway.
“Those MacDonald brothers,” he mumbled through his swollen lip. “Seems they took umbrage at being thrown out of the tavern and came back with some friends to teach me a lesson … a permanent one.”
Fiona breathed a curse. “I had a feeling they weren’t done,” she admitted. “Just a sense in my gut that they’d be back.”
“And, unfortunately, ye were right,” he said thickly. “Though after this, I don’t think they’ll try again.”
She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Let’s hope not.”
She looked around then, taking in his living space. The floor was newly laid, and a large square hearth and a scrubbed worktable in one corner dominated the room. A curtain divided his sleeping space from the rest. The upper levels were still under repair, but unlike Diarmaid, he didn’t live in squalor. Aye, two stools had been overturned in the fight, and a jug lay shattered on the flagstones, but the space wasn’t cluttered and dirty.
It was simple, and it wouldn’t be overly warm in winter, but it felt like a home.
It felt likehim.
Pushing aside the foolish thought, she crouched in front of him and examined his face. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “they made a right mess of ye.”
“The big one got me in the mouth,” he said, testing his teeth with thumb and forefinger. “I don’t think anything’s loose, though.”
“Just as well,” she replied, studying the split lip—then her attention fixed on the gash on his forehead. His eyes were slightly unfocused. His pupils dilated. He’d taken some heavy blows and shouldn’t be left alone tonight.
“That cut on yer temple needs seeing to,” she said briskly. Then she stood and held out her hand. “Come on. I’m taking ye back to the tavern so I can sew ye up.”
He waved her away. “There’s no need. It’s just a scratch.”
“No, it isn’t,” she snapped. “I can see the white of yer skull through that cut. And ye look fit to keel over.” Her gaze hardened. “Ye’re coming with me, Maclean. And I’ll have no argument about it.”
Sitting upon Eithne’s kitchen table, Ailean watched as the two women bustled about the space around him. Fiona was pouring hot water into a bowl while Eithne fetched some strips of linen.
“Those MacDonalds,” Eithne muttered. “We’ll have the bastards stoned.”
“I don’t think ye’ll see them again,” Ailean assured her, attempting a smile and then grimacing as his split lip stung. He didn’t add that, although they hadn’t beaten him to a bloody pulp as they’d planned, it had been a close thing.
He’d been sitting by the fire, whittling a piece of wood, and thinking about the work he had planned for the following day, when the scuff of a boot outside had brought him swiftly to his feet. There’d been just time to grab the poker as they kicked in the door.
And then it had been all on.
Five of them. Big brutes. Swarming in.
He’d fought like a man possessed, fury catching fire in his veins. Suddenly, he’d been back on the battlefield, swinging his claidheamh-mòr instead of an iron poker. However, it hadturned out to be a formidable weapon. They’d come armed with dirks. One of them had held a cudgel.
He’d taken blows and wounds, but he’d dealt his own. And after he’d felled two of them, the others—cowards at heart—had fled, taking their injured companions with them.
