Page 21 of Highland Spirit

“Nonsense,” answered Kirstine. “No one is takin’ her, now stop all yer fussin’. They are only goin’ to the great hall to wait for word that ye are all right. Now, let me sew up that wound before ye bleed to death.”

“Ooooh,” moaned Alana, laying her cheek on the pillow so her sister could sew up the gash at the back of her head.

“Here, ye’d better have a swig of this.” Kirstine held out a goat’s bladder filled with liquid.

“What’s in it?” she asked, sitting up and bringing it to her lips.

“I dinna ken. The man named Caleb that is with Ethan must have left it here. I think it is whisky. Drink some so ye willna feel the pain when I pierce yer flesh.”

With one sip, Alana’s throat caught afire and she could barely breathe. She gasped for air, her hand clutching her throat.

“What’s the matter?” asked Kirstine, becoming alarmed. Her eyes opened wide as well as her mouth. “It’s tainted! God’s eyes, I swear I didna ken!”

“It’s no’ tainted. That’s . . . Mountain Magic.” Alana was barely able to squeak out her raspy reply. “I’d ken it anywhere. Ethan and his friends used to drink it all the time.”

“Mountain Magic?” asked Kirstine. “Och, I remember now. It’s that hellfire potion brewed by the auld man of the MacKeefe Clan.” She pulled it away and took a sniff before corking up the bladder and pushing it aside. “Ye’d better no’ have anymore. Ye’re already passin’ out and this isna goin’ to help.”

“Kirstine, what am I goin’ to do?” asked Alana, wincing in pain as her sister sewed up her wound.

“About what?”

“About Ethan.”

“I dinna ken, but I heard him say he’s leavin’ as soon as the storm lets up.”

“Nay,” said Alana, her heart about breaking. After not seeing him for so many years, she didn’t want him to leave, even though she knew it was risky to let him stay.

“I suppose it’s for the best, Alana. Ye ken that if Diarmad finds them here, he’ll probably kill them.”

“Well, that’s no longer acceptable. I canna send Ethan away. No’ before I have a chance to talk to him. We still have time. Diarmad willna be back before the storm passes. I’m goin’ to ask Ethan to stay,” said Alana, trying to get out of bed.

“Stay still! I’m tryin’ to close yer wound,” scolded Kirstine. “And ye are in no shape to be goin’ anywhere. There,” she said, tying off the knot and snipping the thread. “Now, ye stay in bed. I’ll have food brought to yer room.”

“Nay, I canna do that! I have things to tend to, includin’ takin’ care of my daughter. Plus, I need to talk to Ethan. I have to explain to him why I left him.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed and almost blacked out again. “Och,” she said, her hand going to her head. Her stomach became queasy. “Mayhap I will take a wee nap first.”

“Here, take another swig of this.” Kirstine handed her the Mountain Magic. “It’ll help ye sleep.”

Since the pain throbbing in her head was more intense than being stuck with a needle, Alana gladly took the pouch and downed a big dram of the potent brew. She made a face as it burned a path down to her belly.

“Dinna let anyone tell Ethan a word about anythin’,” she warned, her speech becoming slurred. Alana lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. “Especially, dinna let him ken he’s Isobel’s faither.”

“I willna be the one to tell him that, but I think ye should.” Kirstine got up and put away her supplies, wiping off her hands.

“Do ye really think so?” she asked, her eyes closing as the effects of the whisky took control of her body.

“I’ll keep him here until ye awake, but then ye need to tell him somethin’,” said Kirstine. “This canna go on any longer.”

Kirstine was right, but the thought scared Alana out of her mind. It was going to be bad enough trying to explain to Ethan why she’d left him at the altar. But as hard as that was going to be, telling him he sired a child that she kept a secret for so long was going to be so much worse.

* * *

“Where is everyone?” Ethan asked as the small entourage entered the great hall. The castle was vast, the room cold and dreary. A small fire flickered in the hearth across the room, barely large enough to create any warmth at all. But then again, the room was nearly void of people so mayhap it didn’t matter.

“Dinna ask questions,” grumbled Graeme, walking across the room to talk with the other guard named Albert.

“This place is kind of . . . eerie,” said Ethan, feeling the chill of the dimly-lit vast chamber like icy fingers running up his spine.

“We dinna have many people livin’ here,” Finn told them. “And the – the laird doesna like us to use a lot of wood.”