Page 40 of Tempting the Highland Captive

Lucas laid a hand on Ron’s good shoulder and met his eyes. “Ye have done yer part and protected our lady. Now I need ye tae get her back tae the castle while the men hold our enemies at bay.”

Ron forced his eyes to focus on the red giant’s face and nodded. “Aye,” he agreed, stumbling to his feet with help from Father Jacob. He was having trouble thinking straight, but he knew that getting Amelia back to the castle was the most important thing. He met the larger man’s eyes and grasped his hand. “Stay alive,” he commanded as firmly as he could manage, then turned and let Amelia and Father Jacob help him to the horses. Despite the world spinning around him, he managed to get up onto his horse and use his body to shield Amelia as she climbed up onto her own. “Go,” he urged her fervently and she took off ahead of him as fast as she could go. Ron followed right beside her, their horses matching each other stride for stride. Father Jacob followed, thundering behind.

Ron somehow managed to remain conscious until the castle entered his sight. His heart pounded in his head and shoulder, his vision all but blinded with dizziness and black spots. She is home, his mind chanted in relief. She is safe. The moment that their hooves reached the cobbled stone of the courtyard, Ron slid off onto the ground as it opened beneath him and swallowed him whole.

* * *

“Ron!” Amelia cried out and slid off her horse’s back, tossing the reins to the nearest stable hand. Father Jacob joined her, and they lifted Ron’s head up off the ground to make certain he had not damaged it in the fall.

“The poor lad has lost tae much blood,” Father Jacob observed concerned.

Maggie came running out of the castle and knelt beside Amelia at Ron’s head. She examined the wounds and nodded her head. “Right,” she began in a commanding voice. “Ye two lads grab ahold o’ the laird and carry him inside.” The two men that she pointed at came running and hauled Ron up off the ground. “Ye,” she commanded another stable hand that was standing by, “go and fetch the blacksmith. Tell him what has happened and that we are dealin’ with arrows.” The lad nodded and took off running.

Amelia followed the men as they carried Ron’s body into the hall and laid him down upon one of the tables. Maggie barked orders to the kitchen maids to bring her water, a knife, clean cloth, and various other herbs and tools. The women sprang to life, doing exactly as they were told. A few minutes later, Angus the village blacksmith came bustling unto the hall with a knife and metal tongs in hand. “Roll him onto his stomach,” he ordered and bent over to better inspect the wounds. “Ye were right tae call me,” he murmured to Maggie. “It will nae be easy to get them out, but I dinnae think that the bone is broken.”

Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. “He will live?”

“Aye, my lady, His Lairdship will live, granted a fever does nae take him.”

“Nae if I have anything tae do about it,” Maggie blustered, setting her jaw in stubborn determination.

Amelia would have smiled were the situation not so distressing. It was clear that if Ron did die, it would not be for lack of care on her people’s part. They truly care for him, she noted seeing the worried looks of the people who were gathering in the hall to see what had happened to their laird.

Amelia sat at Ron’s head, stroking his hair soothingly while Angus and Maggie worked to remove the arrows and stop any possibility of infection. Angus was no stranger to removing bullets and arrows, his strength and attention to detail serving him well. Maggie’s study of Ralf’s library and her own native knowledge helped her to know what to do to treat the wounds. The arrow had dragged a bit of the cloth from Ron’s shirt into the wound and Maggie passed the bloody piece to Amelia to match it to the hole in Ron’s shirt. If it did not match, then they would need to continue searching for the other piece to avoid infection. “It matches,” Amelia breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks be tae God,” Father Jacob murmured crossing himself.

“Amen,” Amelia murmured saying her own prayer of gratitude. It had not been since the fire that she had felt such fear.

Maggie and Angus finished tending to Ron’s wounds. The men who had helped to carry him into the hall, now carried him up to his room. The stairs were not so easily navigated while carrying the body of a large warrior, but they managed with minimal damage to his person. Amelia followed along behind, praying with every step. Once he was settled down into bed, the men returned to the stables, and Amelia sat down beside Ron’s still unconscious body. She stared at his face, so peaceful, feeling as if her heart were being squeezed by a massive fist. She watched the rise and fall of his chest. It had been laid bare. His bloodied shirt discarded in the frenzy to save his life. His muscles gleamed in the sunlight that fell from the window and she reached out a tentative hand to caress his chest.

The sound of a man clearing his throat, caused her to pull her hand back and turn toward the door. Lucas stood in the doorway covered in blood. “We have returned with the bodies.”

Amelia arose and went to make certain that the blood on his shirt and face were not his own. “Are ye wounded?”

Lucas shook his head. “I am nae.” His gaze went to Ron’s prone body. “Will he live?”

“He will.” Amelia nodded her head firmly. She would not countenance any other outcome. “Were any of our men harmed?”

Lucas shook his head. “Once ye were away, it became clear that they were only interested in capturing Yer Ladyship and nae one else. They withdrew after ye had gotten away. I believe that the attack on the wagon was a trap set for ye.”

“It has tae be Rossell.” Amelia could almost feel her blood boiling at the thought.

“Aye,” Lucas growled menacingly. “The question is, what do ye plan tae do about it?”

“We need proof that is was indeed Rossell.”

Lucas produced a bloodied arrow and handed it to her. She examined it but did not see any signs that pointed definitively to its owner. “That is all that they left behind.”

“Can ye follow the tracks they left behind?”

“I have men on it now.”

Amelia nodded and handed him back the arrow. “What my faither feared is coming tae pass.”

Lucas shook his head. “It will nae come tae pass, lass. We will nae let it. Ye will prove him wrong.”

Amelia, grateful for his steadfast conviction, nodded and followed him to where the bodies had been laid out in the courtyard to be properly prepared for burial. Maggie and Father Jacob were already there doing what they could to cleanse the men of blood before their families saw them. Amelia knelt beside one of the bodies and took a wet cloth from the bowl of water at her knee. She reached out and gently ran the cloth along her dead clansman’s face. Her mind heralded back to when they had been children together. Donald’s father had overseen bringing the rents to the castle then, a duty he had passed on to his son. Donald had always had a ready smile and a kind word to say to everyone. “His wife will be devastated,” she murmured to Father Jacob as he came to kneel beside her.