Page 91 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

The selkies bid him farewell and wished him to get well soon, then swam away.

"What happened?" Conner asked as he and another guard, Eachan, approached him on shore.

Brodie stood up, dizzy and growing weak. "Injured in battle. I lost a lot of blood."

Chapter 17

"Help me get to Finnian," Brodie said, severe, burning pain lacerating his chest.

"Aye, let's pick him up," Conner told Eachan.

The two brawny guards carried him up the cliff steps, then sprinted toward the tower. Saints, he had never been so weak. Would he pass out?

"Tell all the guards to be on the lookout for the Earl of Talnaroch. He may retaliate," Brodie said through clenched teeth. "Tell Kenneth."

"Aye, chief."

As they approached the portcullis, Conner yelled, ordering the guard to open the side gate.

It seemed no time had passed when a searing pain yanked Brodie, roaring, from the darkness.

He lay in his own bed with people running around in a panic, yelling. His mother sobbed.

The gash on his chest burned like hellfire, near unbearable, but he couldn't move. His own guards held his arms and legs! He blasted them with curses, ordering them to release him.

"Keep holding him. Stay calm, lad," Finnian said. "I'm cleaning your cut with whisky so I can stitch it. 'Tis deep."

"Damn you, old man!"

"Brodie," his mother cried. "Please, I beg of you, let him stop the bleeding and sew your wound! I feared you were dying!"

"I'm nay dying, Ma!" he growled.

"I'm sorry I caused you pain, lad," Finnian said. "But you will thank me one day. The whisky will prevent festering." Finnian motioned to someone at the door. "Bring the tisane, lass."

Elsea appeared in his line of vision like a blonde angel, her eyes red. Hell, he didn't want her to see him like this. The sight of the blood might cause her to faint and hit her head again.

"Help him sit up," Finnian told the guards holding his arms.

But moving to sit up intensified the agony. Grinding his teeth, Brodie growled.

"You must drink it," Finnian said. "'Twill take away most of the pain."

"Aye, take a sip, Brodie," Elsea whispered and carefully held it to his lips, tilting it just enough for him to take a mouthful of the bitter herbal tea.

He grimaced. "I prefer whisky to this vile drink," he mumbled.

Elsea observed him with a frown, her eyes dark and her lashes moist. "I would nay have shown you where the castle was if I'd known you would get injured so badly."

"Nay. We rescued the females abducted the other night, the eight from the other galley."

"Oh, I'm glad you found them. Were any of them injured?"

"Nay."

"Thank the saints."

After Brodie finished drinking the bitter concoction, Elsea stepped back, and Finnian stitched the long cut. Brodie clenched his teeth and grimaced every time the needle pierced his flesh. He wanted to curse and throttle the old man for this torment. Of course, he wouldn't, for Finnian was the best person for this job. Brodie couldn't move, anyway. One of his guards held each of his arms and legs. Someone had thrown a plaid over his lower body so he wasn't completely naked.