Branded By a Warrior (6 page)

Rhona didn’t question her
him
any further;
above all else his word was the final say.
She knew
the lass before her would change her laird’s world; she wasn’t lying when she mentioned the lass had a touch of destiny about her. What she failed to tell
Broderick is the lass and his destinies were intertwined. Old and wise enough to keep that to herself, she gave Broderick orders while she pulled the last of the injured lass’s clothes off, revealing a gnarly wound that stretched from her upper
left
shoulder down across her chest underneath her opposite breast.
Sucking in her br
eath as she inspected the wound. It was far worse than she imagined, sending
up a silent prayer
for the young woman before her, she knew
her recovery would be long and painful.

When Broderick saw the wound his heart sank, it would indeed be a miracle if the lass pulled through, the wound was as long as his arm, deep and
severe.
Sitting back on his heels he watched in a daze as Rhona worked.
How had Elisabeth survived thus far? Her soft
lips were purple and her skin looked slightly blue; she had nearly frozen to death
and surely lost the majority of her lifeblood
.
The
wound
across her chest
looked as if she was almost cleaved in
two
.
His
dogs were not happy about being forced to move while they worked on the young woman. Conn and Isla hadn’t moved far, only allowing enough room for their master and Rhona to work; they kept watch of the unconscious lady with watchful eyes.
He was still amazed at the loyalty his dogs showed the stranger.

After stripping the young woman of her clothing, Rhona cleaned the lass’s body with the steaming water before the healer arrived. Working methodically, she took great care when cleaning the injured lass.
It took
them
a very long time to clean the wound and check the l
ass for any additional injuries.
Finding only her shoulder injury, they made he
r as comfo
rtable as they could as they
covering
her
with warm wool blankets, and several of Broderick’s tartans.

While waiting for the healer,
Rhona had already disappeared out the door
with
the
bloody
clothing
and Elisabeth’s tarta
n. He made Rhona swear to see the tartan cleaned and returned;
it was not to be burnt. He knew the proud Drumm
ond woman would want her
plaid; it was all she had left of her family and clan.
A warrior’s plaid was one of their
most priceless objects, and he would see hers cleaned and returned to her.

Cleaned and covered with
his
tartan plaid, he watched her sleep and wondered what color her eyes were
, he couldn’t remember
. Although he tried not to stare
at her naked body
earlier
, he had little choice when he helped Rhona clean
off the
blood. Her body was lithe and petite; she was well shaped with ample b
reasts. She had beautiful muscle definition for a woman; she was
obviously
strong, even with her petite frame.
Seeing several old scars on her body,
he assumed the stories were tru
e; she was indeed the Drummond Warrior Q
ueen fabled amongst the Highlands.
He pondered how old she was, years ago she was still so very young when she broke up the fight,
now
she had to be in her twenties, she had the body of a
goddess.

Sitting with
his chair pulled close to Elisabeth, he ran his hand over Conn’s head as they watched the sleeping lass
together
. Isla was snuggled
beside
her
and
the fire.
Reflecting back on what his brother had said earlier, i
t was unusual to have a woman in his
room;
exceptionally
rare in fact, his brother was right. He couldn’t explain why he felt so compelled to bring her to his room.
He felt a tremendous amount of responsibility for her, his protectiveness was in full force.
In his heart, he knew he had to have her
close;
he had to watch over her at all times. The only thing that had made sense to him at the time was to install her in his room, consequences be damned.

Watching the fire crackle
he pondered
over her skills as a trained warrior, were
the grandiose stories
really
true? She had the scars of a warrior upon her ivory body, yet she was so small and womanly. It was hard for him to imagine her on the battlefield, let alone wielding a broadsword. He could easily envision her at King Richard’s court, no
t
in the wilds of Scotland cutting down grown men alongside her father and brother.
He did however agree that t
he tales of her beauty
were not
exaggerate
d
, even near death she looked like a fallen angel. He could only imagine her in her full glory; she had to be truly stunning.

He thought back years of when he first laid eyes on the
lass; she had broken up the fight between Duncan and himself.
Their fight caused by a woman.
Even in the midst of starting a war, he remembered her beautiful face and the way she threaten him with her broadsword as if she was a queen.
H
e was a young and arrogant
, he was used to young maidens blushing in his presence, he was certainly not expecting a wee thing like her to brandish her lethal weapon at him.
He remembered not taking her seriously, but now, thinking about the woman she turned out to be, he wondered, how close to losing his life by her hand did he come that day?
She had handled her blade with excellent skill that day, yet he never saw her as a threat. Just reminiscing about that day made shame flood his senses, it never failed.

Fiona had played both Duncan and
himself
with evil precision as she promised them both her heart, pinning the men against each other.
Elisabeth was the only one who had seen through it immediately.
It had all
been a rouse to get the Drummond and MacMillan clan
s
to end their peaceful existence
and ignite
a war, orchestrated by Kincaid.
Kincaid enlis
ted the help of Fiona to start the
war; a war he hoped would eliminate both clans.
Elisabeth had begged and pleaded with him and Duncan to listen, yet they cared nothing for what she had to say.
She had discovered the truth, and pleaded with them to hear reason, yet neither man would swallow their pride to listen to her wise words.

It wasn’t until
months later
the men discovered the truth about the Scottish witch who had deceived both of them and ran off to marry Kincaid soon afterward.
T
hey both thought she had been forced into a marriage due to her conniving father, not because she was doing Kincaid’s bidding
.
At the time
Duncan and Broderick
were too proud to listen to Elisabeth as she begged them to listen to her, to hear reason.
Yet, Elisabeth had been accurate.

Broderick could still remember the vicious fight he had with Duncan at the waterfall; both had
their
blades
drawn
when Duncan’s sister arrived. She had screamed at both of the men like they were wee
lads.
S
he was a whirlwind of long dark red loose curls and confidence. She had no fear
as
she stood
between
him and Duncan; she tried telling them Fiona was trying to start a war for Kincaid.

Neither of the men listened to her, lord he wish he had.

When neither man would back down, she had enough, pulling her broadsword out she pushed Broderick away so she could speak with her brother alone. Whatever she had said to him
in those few moments had made Duncan relent. Broderick
remembered watching his friend stare at him one last time
befo
re he walked away with his angel
faced sister.

Looking down upon her face again, he saw the subtle differences in her face, and undoubtedly her lush body. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get that vision
of her naked
out of
his head.
Shaking the thought from his head he cursed at himself for coveting her body in her condition.

Looking down at her asleep before him, h
e enjoyed the look of his plaid against her skin, something about the image made something inside him shift.
He owed her so much for stopping the fight between Duncan and himself all those years ago.
He was still ashamed at the rift it had caused; he and Duncan never fully regained their friendship after that day.
That was something that still haunted him till this
day;
he never fully understood why they hadn’t. He felt ashamed and embarrassed a woman like Fiona could cause such a divide between him and his friend, they had been on the brink of war over a whore.

Beside him Conn stood up and looked at the door and gave a low growl to alert his master of someone approaching, petting his loyal wolfhound’s head he heard
his elderly healer approaching. His dogs had never really liked the healer, they often growled at the old woman when she approached.
Signaling for his dogs to stay, he got up from his seat and opened the door for the
craggy old
healer

“Good eve Caitriona, I have need of your services
most urgent. Her wound is
grave
; we must do whatever we can.
” Broderick requested as she shuffled past him and walked directly across the room to Elisabeth.
The healer said nothing to him as she walked in.

The
thin
silver
haired healer knelt beside
Elisabet
h and hovered her hand over Elisabeth’s body
f
or several moments before she stood up and turned back to
look at
him.

With a knowing smile she
rattled, “A touch of destiny!”

Crossing his arms
and narrowing his eyes
he looked back at the frail healer, “Old Rhona said the same, what ye mean woman?”
He demanded
, irritated at the bat-brained healer.
She was well known for her odd ramblings, but her healing powers made up for her addled nonsense.

Nodding her head she smiled and turned back towards Elisabeth, opening her pouches she pulled salves and herbs from her clutch and leaned over to
retrieve
the hot water by the fireplace, “Ye des
tiny is entwined with this lass.” S
he said cryptically
, lookin
g back at Elisabeth
.

Walking over to Caitriona, he knelt beside the elder and looked at her in the eyes, “Will she live?”

Mixing up hot water
with a
foul smelling
paste, the
silver
haired healer nodded, “Oh ye
s, she will live. She will live
.
”

Broderick watched and assisted Caitriona long into the winter night
. The slash
started high on her left shoulder and
angled across her chest, missing both breasts. The scar left would be substantial; a wound that deep would permanently leave a mark. There was no herb powerful enough to take away a scar of that magnitude.
The beauty
before him
would be scarred.

Many grueling hours later
Elisabeth’s
wound had been
closed by
the skillful
hands of
Caitriona, assisting when needed
,
he was dead tired
.
He had been awake for almost two days now.

Treated and wrapped in soft linen bandages, Broderick helped Caitriona slip a lig
htweight chemise over the lass once she had finished her work.
They covered her in another thick blanket before the roaring fireplace after they were completed.

During the entire time
she was being worked on
, Elisabeth neither moved nor spoke; she contin
ued to lay dead to the world. Broderick
had dismissed his healer
for the eve
after her work was done
, allowing her to seek her bed late into the night.
Her job had been done, she would not be required to keep vigil over Elisabeth, that chore would fall to him alone.