Page 45 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

“Alright, lad?” he heard a voice ask, and turned to the side to see Edan there, holding him securely as they walked. “Ye gave us a scare, do ye ken that? But everythin’ will be fine the noo, I promise ye. The healer will make ye good as new.”

“I’m alright,” Eiric assured Edan, even though he was anything but and he knew it. In his mind, no one else needed to know, not Edan, not Marion, not even the healer. The man could fix him up, but he didn’t want him to worry.

“Ach, of course ye are,” Edan said.

Soon enough, Eiric found himself on a mattress, but it was not his own. Wherever he was, it was cold, and his body had begun to shiver. His mouth was dry and his lips cracked, but at least he was so far away from sunlight that his head wasn’t pounding as much as before.

Suddenly, there were hands on him, careful and gentle, so gentle that they reminded him of his mother when he had been a child. But they couldn’t have belonged to his mother; those were big hands, strong and calloused, but too soft to have done any harsh manual labour.

It was the healer, and he was trying to save him.

Eiric didn’t know in what shape he was, but he hoped that it wasn’t too bad. He could have accepted a death in that camp, among the English, but he couldn’t accept dying in his own castle, surrounded by people that loved him. He couldn’t let them see him die right in front of their eyes. He couldn’t do that to them.

“Marion,” Eiric said then, his hand searching for her own. He wondered if she was still there or if they had forced her to leave.

The answer came soon enough, when he felt Marion’s hand around his own. “Yes?” she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.

“Promise me that if I die, ye’ll stay with me maither,” he said. “Promise me that ye’ll take care of her. I am the only son that she raised, but ye are like a daughter to her.”

“You won’t die,” Marion said, sounding quite certain of it. “You won’t die, Eiric. Didn’t you hear what Edan said? You’ll be good as new.”

“Aye, aye,” Eiric said. “But if I do die, then someone needs to take care of her. And me faither will do his best, but he doesna ken . . . he doesna ken how to do this. He doesna ken how to take care of people in that way. It’ll have to be ye, Marion, please.”

“Stop it,” Marion said.

She sounded like she was crying, Eiric thought, and that was the last thing that he wanted. He reached for her, his fingers brushing against her cheek and wiping away the tears.

“Ach, dinna fret, lass,” he said. “Everythin’ will be fine. What did I tell ye? Even if I die, ye’ll have yer life.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

Eiric contemplated those words for a few moments in silence. Marion didn’t want him to die. Ethan didn’t want him to die. His father and his mother certainly didn’t want him to die.

“Then I willna,” he decided. “For ye, I will fight Death himself.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” Marion said.

Dinna make promises ye canna keep, lad.

Eiric supposed he would just have to keep it now that the words were out of his mouth. How does one fight Death? Eiric didn’t know, but he would have to find out soon if he were to survive.

Perhaps his body would do all the work for him, he thought. Or perhaps his will to live would do it, so strong that nothing else would matter, neither his wounds nor any infections that could settle in his body.

Or perhaps it would be the work of the healer, the man who had learnt how to cheat Death a long time ago.

Eiric trusted him. He was an old man, a wise man, who had read more books than he could ever hope to read or even possess. If there was anyone who could save him, then it was that healer, and Eiric was more than happy to leave the whole thing in his hands.

He was tired. He wanted to sleep.

And for a moment, he did, until there was a foul smell under his nose that made him wake up once more, and then a slap for good measure.

“Stay awake,” the healer said, as he began to apply pastes and oils and other things that Eiric couldn’t identify all over his body. Every cut and scrape, every wound stung with the concoctions, and he thrashed in bed, screaming.

“Isn’t there anything you can give him?” Marion asked, sounding so shrill and terrified that it was almost enough to quiet Eiric; almost.

“I’ve already given him everythin’ I could,” the healer said. “Which means that the next part will be verra unpleasant, lass. Keep holdin’ his hand for me.”

Eiric felt Marion’s hand tighten around his own as the healer took his other hand. He felt the man’s fingers wrap around his own, and then he heard a crack.