A sudden lull in the numbers of men coming at them gave Calum a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving. Then hefelt Iain move behind him and shout a warning. They’d let down their guard!
Only when Calum turned to defend Iain, his gaze sweeping around them, did he become aware of another danger. Iain and Kenneth fought Iain’s attacker, but another loomed at Calum’s side. Too close. He had only a moment to think that if they lost Iain because of it, he’d rather die here than live with the shame. He raised his sword to block the blow aimed at separating his head from his shoulders. Blades crashed and sparked, the clang loud enough to make his ears ring. Something hit his head and the side of his face. He had only a moment to regret that he would never get the chance to wed Ella before everything around him went black.
Calum woke to pain,as if hands spanned his head, squeezing until his skull cracked. Thought was too heavy to reach the surface unless it leaked through his skull with blood and brains. A strange whistling filled his ears. Horror made his belly roil and he heard a low groan. His? He couldn’t move, couldn’t even open his eyes. Something cool dripped onto his lips and into his mouth. He swallowed and went away, back into the blackness.
The next time he woke, the pain in his head had spread to his eye, sharp and piercing. Had he been stabbed in the eye? He managed to lift one hand, intending to pull out the blade, but cool fingers forced his hand back to his side and a feminine voice said something he couldn’t comprehend. Male voices rumbled in the background, blurred and indistinct below the whistling. Nothing made sense, so Calum let the world go away again.
This time, he came awake with the determination to find out what had happened to him.
“Ah, Calum, good morrow.”
He knew that voice. He loved that voice. Ella! What was she doing on the battlefield? He struggled to open his eyes, to sit up, to find his sword and protect her, but a hand on his chest held him down.
“Dinna move, laddie,” a firm, older, female voice commanded. Not Ella. Where had she gone?
“Ella…” He tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t.
“Here, Calum.” Soft fingers wrapped around his and he relaxed. The women would not be on the battlefield unless the fighting was over and they had won. When had they followed Iain’s men from Brodie? Calum thought Iain had left them safe within its walls, hand-picked men remaining to defend them.
“Iain?” He croaked out the name, dreading the news he might receive. “Kenneth?”
“Hale and nearby,” the older voice replied.
He recognized the clan’s healer’s voice.
“What happened? Why canna I see? Who is making that whistling sound?”
“Ye were wounded, lad, as ye ken.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact. Calm. Yet Ella’s cool fingers tensed on his hand.
“How bad?”
“A crack to yer heid, and ye can be glad ’tis so hard, ye yet live. But the sword that did it shattered. Ye had a sliver of steel in yer eye. ’Tis gone now.”
Her comment stopped him from trying to lift a hand to his face yet again.
“Yer eyes are covered and bandaged round yer heid. Ye must rest and heal if ye hope to see again out of that eye.”
“How long?”
“Another sennight, I think. Or a wee more. I’ll judge as ye go,” she told him. “Ella, go fetch some broth from the kitchen. Our lad is awake enough to drink and it will help him heal.”
Ella squeezed his hand and the swish of fabric told Calum she’d done as the healer asked.
“Ella will care for ye, and see to yer needs,” the woman continued, “until ye can do for yerself. Ye must stay abed and keep yer head still.”
Calum didn’t like the sound of that. “Nay,” he said, forcing the word between dry lips. “Nay Ella. I’ll no’ abide her seeing me like this. One of the lads can attend to me.”
“If that is what ye wish.” Her voice communicated disappointment. “And here I thought ye pined for her. Months ago, ye confided in me that ye wished for her to be yers. Now that ye need her, ye dinna want her?”
“I do wish it,” Calum insisted once the healer’s complaint ran down. “But nay like this. Send Ella away, back to Brodie. She doesna belong here.”
“Lad, we are at Brodie. Ye are in yer own bed. Where did ye think…”
Shock turned his blood to ice, then he warmed again, safe. “I thought…the battlefield. Outside Aberdeen. How did I get home?”
“In a cart. Fortune smiled on ye, and ye made the journey safe in Hypnos’ arms, unaware of yer pain. Ye came to me only a pair of days after ye took yer wounds. Iain made certain ye were cared for until ye arrived. Ye’ve had little fever, and if ye do as I say, ye’ll have nay more. But ye must do as I say. To save yer sight, ye canna move yer head overmuch. Do ye ken?”
