Page 20 of A Laird and a Fugitive

Chapter 8

Ryan stood and waited for the women to join the guards. Now that the battle was over, and he had the chance to process everything, the pain became prevalent. The battle had not been too arduous, but he had suffered a few nicks and cuts here and there. He could feel blood oozing out of one arm, forming a warm trickle that ran down to his wrist. He would have the healer look at him when he returned. It was easy enough to ignore for the moment, but he was still aware that the pain was present.

The women looked disheveled. They had all been attacked in various ways. Tara looked as though she had gotten the worst of it. A bruise shadowed her cheek, and there were dark marks down her arm where she had been dragged away in a strong grip. Caroline and Nessa looked more shocked than anything, but Nessa had some bruising from her fight, and Caroline favored her right leg as she walked with a slight limp.

After the storm of the conflict, the night had settled into silence once again. A gentle wind drifted through the trees. Nearby, an owl hooted, perhaps notifying the other creatures of the forest that it was safe to emerge again. The scary humans were retreating.

The guards had watchful eyes on the surrounding paths, just in case any other bandits presented themselves, or if predators caught the scent of blood and came sniffing along to see if they could take advantage of the situation.

To Ryan’s surprise, he was filled with a sense of wanting to protect Caroline after having seen her at the mercy of bandits. He kept glancing towards her, feeling bad that she walked with a limp. He sidled up to her. He noticed how each of the women tensed when he got closer. They were treating him like a bandit too.

He didn’t want them to see him as a monster, but if they did, then it was only because their father had made him into a monster. Whatever he was, it was a direct result of the Gilmour Clan. If they recoiled in horror at him, then it was their own fault.

“Ye can see the healer when we return,” he suggested.

“That will nae be necessary. I can take care of my sisters,” Caroline said briskly.

“I will deem what is necessary.”

“It’s really nae needed. I would nae want tae put yer healer tae any trouble.”

“I am trying tae dae ye a kindness.” There was a hint of disbelief creeping into Ryan’s words. He was trying to help them, but she was throwing it back in his face.

“If ye want tae dae us a kindness, then ye can release us.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed and he exhaled a hard breath. He wasn’t even going to respond to that comment. Caroline knew it was impossible, especially because she had promised herself to him.

“I thought ye would be a wee bit more grateful considering I just saved ye from certain death, or perhaps even a worse fate. Ye should hae known better than tae come out here at night. I warned ye that this place was dangerous. Ye need my protection.”

Caroline did flinch at this and looked towards her sisters. Ryan caught a glimpse of guilt in her eyes. She couldn’t have enjoyed the fact that they had been placed in danger because of her.

“It seems ye need ours as well. Ye would be dead if it was nae for Caroline,” Nessa said in a spiteful tone.

She glared at Caroline and her face was twisted in a mask of hatred. Ryan realized that he had been fortunate. If things had been slightly different, then he might well have been run through with Nessa’s sword.

“And I am glad ye did. I see ye are already performing yer wifely duties,” Ryan smirked, enjoying the shocked look that came upon Caroline’s face.

If she was going to be ungrateful, then he was going to have his fun irritating her. Caroline’s cheeks turned red, and she averted her gaze. Tara and Nessa’s eyes widened with shock. Ryan believed he had said enough for now and sauntered away, leaving them to each other.

He clasped his hands together and then stretched out his arm, trying to ease the pain away. He looked up to the stars, and for a few moments, he was taken away by wistful thoughts. He imagined his father and brother looking down upon him. Were they proud of him for the plan he was about to enact?

He wished there was a way to communicate with them, even if it was just a vague sense of their emotional well-being. But the stars and the souls among them were distant, far beyond reach. The night was a mysterious veil, and it held its secrets closely. Ryan would just have to hope that his actions brought them some solace.

The Keep rose in the darkness. Within the castle a few fires had been lit, and this light emerged from the windows, illuminating the hard stone. The doors groaned open as they approached. From the stables, Ryan heard the horses whinny. He paused for a moment and stared defiantly at Caroline.

“Take them tae the healer,” he said, his words meant for the guards.

He wanted to make Caroline see that he was in charge here. She was not in a position to give orders, nor to defy him. He was the Laird, she was still his prisoner. He wanted to force this habit upon her because it would be the same for the rest of her life. She would be his wife, but she would not hold any influence over the clan. He wouldn’t let Gilmour blood poison his clan like that.

Caroline pursed her lips and her eyes flashed wide at him. She remained silent, however, as the guards encircled the three sisters and guided them through the castle. Ryan chuckled to himself as they disappeared from view. It was important that they were put in their place. After tonight, he believed they wouldn’t try to escape again because they must realize by now how futile it was.

Ryan ordered a servant to bring him some cloth and a change of clothes. He returned to his study, where he lit a candle. Wispy smoke rose from the wick and the fire crackled. Pale light suffused the room, and the scent of melting wax was thick in the air. The servant did not tarry, and brought what Ryan had asked for.

Ryan peeled off his shirt, revealing a scarred torso that had been hardened by battle. He wrapped the cloth tightly around the wound on his arm, wincing a little as he did so. The cloth quickly became stained crimson, but the flow of blood had been stemmed. He used the shirt he had just doffed to wipe away the trickling shadows that ran down his arm, and then tossed the shirt towards the servant. He nodded and backed out of the room. All the servants knew that Ryan preferred to be alone.

Ryan pulled the new shirt over his head. It was crisp and clean. He ran his hands through his hair and stretched his muscles, resuming the earlier matters of the night. He poured wine into a glass and then relaxed in his chair. He took a deep draft of wine, feeling the liquid swim over his tongue and roll down his throat. The taste was rich and hearty, and it quenched the thirst that had risen in battle. He smacked his lips together, catching the remnants of wine that lingered upon them, and he became deep in thought. He stared into space, his mind turning back to that moment when Caroline had saved him.

Why?