Page 86 of In Bed with her Highland Foe

“Here, help me with this one,” the elderly woman called, too frail to lift the strong man before her alone. Between the two of them, they levered the man onto one of the hall benches. He cried out in pain then gritted his teeth, refusing to groan anymore. “Ye are good,” the woman said to Kyven as she got to work on trying to sew a knife wound back together. “Ye are Lady Kyven they say, is it true?”

“Aye,” Kyven said distractedly. “And yer name?”

“Betsy.” The woman handed her more thread for her needle. “Nae many ladies would get their hands bloody fer another clan.”

“This is me doing,” Kyven muttered miserably. “Ye have nay idea how sorry I am I came. I wish I had nae brought this danger on ye all.”

“Ye dinnae ken where ye are then, lass.” Betsy’s words made Kyven pause a second, looking up into the healer’s eyes. “Nay Gregor would see a woman hurt, and we are nae afraid to save as many as we can.” She winked. “Ye’re safe here.”

Kyven didn’t feel safe though. She felt guilty.

Michael looked back and forth, desperate to see any sign of Shay through the fight, but it was impossible. After that initial shot, Shay had crouched down, dodging the bullet, and his men had swarmed in.

Michael cut man after man down. Behind him, Tynan stayed close, as Brayden forged ahead. The three of them stayed close together, covering one another’s back at all times.

“Where is he?” Michael barked to his brothers. “Dae ye see him?”

“Nay,” Brayden shouted back.

“It ends with him, aye?” Tynan cried, bending down and narrowly avoiding a sword blow before he swiped at his opponent’s ankles, slitting them open and making the man buckle to the floor. “We stop him, and they retreat.”

“Aye,” Brayden and Michael called together.

Michael lunged forward, injuring his own opponent, only for the man to be replaced by a face he knew well. It was Larry.

“Good evening, rat,” Michael shouted at him. “Come tae follow yer master’s orders like the rodent ye are?”

Enraged, Larry lashed out. He’d chosen a small sword and could move faster with it, but he was not quick enough for Michael.

He managed to parry the blows, pushing Larry increasingly back.

“Michael!” Brayden called. “Dinnae become separated from us. We need tae watch yer back.”

Michael had no choice. He had to get Larry, had to stop him from coming again. Such a sniveling rat of a man who did his master’s bidding without question was a permanent danger. He had to be finished – now.

Michael swiped out at Larry’s blade another time, then lunged, managing to lash out hard enough to knock the weapon from Larry’s hand. There was momentary panic in Larry’s eyes as he fell from the sheer weight of the blow. He landed on his back, scrambling away as fast as possible, his face covered in sweat, shining red in the heat of all the torches. He reached out wildly as Michael moved over him.

This ends.

Michael intended to deliver an injury Larry would not get up from again. He raised his blade, just as something flickered in the corner of Larry’s eyes. He had found something beneath him, a weapon of some kind, then he lifted it high.

Michael did not have time to react – there was a pistol in Larry’s grasp, unwaveringly pointing up at him.

This is it then. Me death.

The gunshot echoed loudly in Michael’s ear, as if the barrel had been pressed close to his temple. He heard, saw the spark, just as he felt the heavy thud in his shoulder. He toppled away, somehow managing to keep his balance in the scrambling mess.

“Argh,” a groan erupted from behind him.

Michael whipped around. He hadn’t been shot. There was no pain in his body beyond the soreness of using the sword for so long with still-healing arms.

“Tynan!” Michael bellowed.

Tynan had pushed him out of the way of the shot. Buried deep in his shoulder, close to his neck, was the bullet, and blood started to gush out. He fell backward, like a plank.

“Nay!” Michael ran to catch his brother. He caught him just in time, stopping Tynan from hitting his head.

“Ye bastard,” Brayden’s voice raged, as if from a distance, muffled. Michael saw briefly how Brayden was running after Larry, but the man managed to ferret away between the soldiers, disappearing fast. “Michael – let's get him tae the healer.”