“Alber ambushed him, and they fought,” Anders told her as he beckoned several men over to help him get his brother down. They carried him inside.
Mariota watched them go, her feet sliding side-to-side in her anxiety to follow them. But Anders was still talking.
“He— I kenned something was wrong and rode out with some men. We found him just as he killed Alber.” Anders dismounted and handed his reins to a lad. “Ye needna fear him ever again.”
“Stellan killed him?” Unconsciously, her hand covered her mouth. “I must go to him.”
“Let the healer see to him, lass.”
Mariota ignored him and ran for the herbal. Anders called her name, but she kept going. In a moment, she felt him following on her heels.
Several people filled the herbal, watching the healer work on Stellan’s wounds. One arrowhead was already out of his arm and the wound packed with healing herbs. The healer frowned as she cut around the one in his shoulder. Mariota held her breath until she pried it out, examined it for broken edges, probed the wound and removed one small bit before letting it bleed freely for a moment to ensure it was free of debris, then packed that wound as well.
That Stellan’s father was already there and watching the healer cut his son surprised her. One of the men who carried Stellan in must have fetched him, and now several waited against one wall in case they were needed again. Mariota and Anders crowded along the wall next to them, across from the laird.
“His other wounds are no’ deep,” the healer announced a while later as she finished cleaning the last one. She turned to the laird. “I’ll pack and wrap them and watch to make certain they dinna fester. When he wakes up, he’ll be given cider and ale to drink. He lost a lot of blood, so liquids will help him recover faster than aught else.”
“How long?” Sutherland’s face and voice held concern.
“I canna say, laird. I’ll watch over him.”
“I’ll help,” Mariota said, the words out before the thought formed in her mind. She couldn’t bear the thought of Stellan waking up alone, in pain. She would help the healer so that he had someone with him all day and all night.
“So there,” the healer said, smiled at Mariota, and turned back to the laird. “He’ll be well cared for.”
“I dinna think ’tis appropriate for a lass?—”
“Of course it is,” the healer argued. “Who do ye think helps me with most of ye brave lads when ye come in dripping blood?”
Stellan groaned and turned his head from side to side. Anders hurried to him and placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Fight’s over, brother. Ye won.”
Stellan calmed, then croaked out, “Mari…”
“I’m here, Stellan. I’m safe. So are ye.”
The healer approached with a cup. “I want ye to drink all of this, lad,” she said and nodded for Anders to lift his head, then held the cup to his lips. Stellan managed to swallow most of it, sighed and passed out again.
Mariota made a sound of protest, terrified he wouldn’t recover, but the healer held up a hand.
“Have faith, lass. I put something to help him sleep in that draught.”
Anders put a hand on her shoulder. “Remember how ye said our healer is formidable? Trust her.”
Mariota nodded, mostly because she knew that’s what Anders expected, and she didn’t want to hurt the healer’s feelings. But she worried for Stellan. He looked so wan, so less than himself, lying there. Despite knowing his father would see, she put a hand on his cheek. “Sleep well,” she told him, then looked to the healer. “What do ye need me to do?”
“At the moment? Go rest. Ye look as knackered as he does,” she said and nodded toward her patient. Come to me after ye have slept a few hours and we’ll talk.”
Anders took her arm and escorted her to her chamber. “Dinnafash, Mariota. Now that he’s home, I’m confident he’ll be better soon. Ye should be, too.”
Tears she’d fought to contain since she’d seen Anders ride in with Stellan in his arms finally wet her eyes and trickled down her face. “I’ll try,” she told him as he pulled her into his embrace. So like Stellan’s, and yet… not.
“Ye need sleep. Go rest. I’ll keep an eye on him until ye come back down.”
“Thank ye, Anders.” She stepped out of his embrace and into her chamber. She closed her door and stretched out on her bed, heedless of the state of her traveling clothes or anything else, save that she’d thanked more people since she arrived at Sutherland than she had at MacKay in months. She’d be grateful to be able to thank the healer for saving Stellan, for bringing him through his recovery and back to her. And she’d do everything she could to help him. With him, her life was going to be so much better. She loved him, and he loved her. If Alber had stolen that from her, she’d curse his name and wish she could kill him all over again. She didn’t miss MacKay or the loss of the lairdship. Those things were in her past. Stellan was her future. Sutherland was her future. And as soon as Stellan was healed, she had so much to tell him. So much to thank him for. He must get better soon.
Stellan came awaketo pain everywhere, but the worst seemed to be in his arm and shoulder. Then he remembered. Alber’sarrows caught him there. He opened his eyes, not certain where he was or what he’d see. Alber standing over him about to thrust his great sword through Stellan’s chest?
Nay, something much more reassuring. Anders, leaning over him, smiling.
