Authors: Connie Mason
Highland Warrior (19 page)
“Whatever are you talking about, Gizela?”
“The laird. He rides into danger.”
Gillian wished she had more patience with Gizela, but she had a great deal to do before Ross left on the morrow. “I doona have time for this, Gizela.”
“Doona let him go,” Gizela insisted, her expression earnest.
“Why? What kind of danger? Does someone mean Ross harm?”
“Aye, didna I just say so? Warn him, lady. He doesna listen to me.”
When Gizela turned to leave, Gillian held her back. “Wait. Who means Ross harm?”
Just then Seana sashayed across the hall. “That one,” Gizela said, pointing a bony finger at Seana.
“Doona be silly,” Gillian chided. “If Seana wishes anyone harm, ’tis me.”
“Och, that she does.”
Gillian took her eyes off Gizela for a moment to watch Seana, and when she looked back, the old woman had scooted off and disappeared. Exasperated, Gillian shook her head. She should know better than to listen to anything Gizela said, yet.... yet... How could she discount a threat to Ross? She couldn’t. She hurried off to find her husband.
Gillian found Ross in the small chamber off the hall he used to conduct business. Niall was with him.
“Are you busy, Ross?” she asked as she poked her head into the chamber.
“I was just leaving,” Niall said, rising, “unless Ross has something else to add to our discussion.”
Ross waved him off. “I canna think of anything. If you decide not to accompany me to Wick, I will understand. The journey isna dangerous, but you are my heir, and mayhap ’tis best that you remain at Ravenscraig in case something unforeseen happens to me.”
“Ross!” Gillian exclaimed. “Naught will happen to you.”
Niall laughed. “Your lady wife is right, Ross. Gordo is here to see to things, and since I have business in Wick, I wish to accompany you.”
Niall departed. Gillian stared at Ross, recalling Gizela’s warning. Did Ross have a premonition of danger? Was that why he’d tried to convince Niall to remain at Ravenscraig?”
“Is something wrong, Gillian?” Ross asked.
“I didna know Niall was your heir.”
“He is until we have a son.” He searched her face. “What is it? You appear upset.”
“I just spoke with Gizela.”
“Is that all? You know better than to heed anything Gizela says.”
“She asked me to warn you,” Gillian persisted. “She said you shouldna go to Wick, that someone wishes you harm.”
Ross laughed. “Are you worried about me?” He rose and stalked toward her. “I can take care of myself, lass. Besides, there is naught to worry about. The journey to Wick is neither long nor dangerous.”
“Do you never heed Gizela’s warnings?”
“Who can understand her? Her warnings are vague and unpredictable. Who did she say wished me harm?”
Gillian bit her lip, wondering if she should tell Ross. Now that she thought about it, it seemed unlikely that Seana wished Ross harm. Seana wanted Ross, had always wanted him. She would gain naught by his death.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “Gizela’s warning was too vague to be taken seriously. Just promise me you will be alert for danger.”
Reaching out, Ross pulled her against him. “Doona worry, Gillian. I am always careful, but this time there is nae need to worry.”
Then he kissed her, making Gillian forget Gizela’s warning, forget Seana, and forget even her reason for seeking Ross in the first place.
Two days later, Ross, Donald, and Niall left for Wick. They expected to be gone two, mayhap three days. Gillian tried to keep to her routine during Ross’s absence. She set some women to rendering fat from the hog they had butchered and salted, and others to making candles to burn during the long winter nights to come. She conferred with Hanna about meals and busied herself counting bed linens.
While all this activity was going on, everyone but Seana offered to lend a hand. Gillian avoided the haughty woman as often as possible, but sometimes their meeting was unavoidable. Two days after Ross left, Seana confronted Gillian in the hall.
“When do you expect Ross to return?” Seana asked.
Gillian glanced out the window, noting that the sun had already set. “Probably tomorrow. If he were arriving today he would have already been here. Why are you asking about Ross instead of Niall?”
Seana bristled. “I was referring to all three men. Tomorrow,” she repeated. “Excuse me; I just recalled something important I must do.”
Gillian stared after Seana as she hurried off. The woman was a thorn in her side. Though Seana had done naught to rouse suspicion, Gillian couldn’t forget Gizela’s warning. Since Seana hadn’t left the keep since the men’s departure, Gillian saw no reason for alarm. Ross was right when he said Gizela thrived on predicting doom and death.
The cart was loaded with all the items Ross had purchased in Wick and ready to roll three days after he and his kinsmen left Ravenscraig. Though Ross had wanted to return home a day earlier, it had taken longer than he’d expected to find all the items they needed. After breaking his fast that morning, Ross had decided to ride ahead and let the slower cart follow at its own pace.
Ross couldn’t believe how much he had missed Gillian. During the past three days she had never been far from his thoughts. Her flaming hair and responsive body haunted his dreams. Considering theirs had been an arranged marriage neither he nor Gillian wanted, Ross had become inordinately fond of his feisty wife. He had to chuckle every time he recalled her attempt to run him through with her sword during that final battle between Clan MacKay and Clan MacKenna.
The situation would have been laughable if Gillian hadn’t been so serious in her endeavor to skewer him. The experience had taught him never to underestimate a woman wielding a sword.
Ross’s thoughts of Gillian eased the monotony of his long ride to Ravenscraig. Before he realized it he was at the halfway mark in his journey, with the cart still some distance behind him. If he hadn’t been so distracted by his thoughts, he would have seen riders approaching him from the west. They were nearly upon him before he became aware of their presence. When he recognized their plaid, he stopped to await them.
“What brings you so far from home?” Ross asked when the leader approached him. “Are you traveling to Wick for supplies?”
When the leader did naught but stare at him, Ross asked, “What is it, man? Is aught amiss?”
Stunned, Ross scarcely had time to twist aside as the man pulled his sword from the sheath he carried on his back and thrust it without provocation into Ross’s flesh. Though the assailant had aimed for Ross’s gut, his sword wavered at the last minute and found a home in Ross’s right side.
As the leader withdrew his sword, Ross gasped out, “Why?”
Then he slid from the saddle onto the frozen ground. The attacker cast one last glance at Ross, turned his mount, and led his men away, leaving Ross to die on the cold ground, his life’s blood pooling beneath him.
Gillian had planned a grand feast for Ross’s homecoming. Though she didn’t know precisely when he would return, she expected him today, and had been lingering in the hall so she could be the first to greet him. Thus, she wasn’t surprised when she heard the cart roll up to the front entrance. She ran to the door and flung it open, shivering in the blast of cold air that struck her. Apprehension sliced through her when she saw a riderless horse tethered to the rear of the cart.
“Fetch Gizela!” Niall shouted as he jumped from the cart. “’Tis Ross; he’s been hurt. Send men to help carry him inside.”
“I am here,” Gizela said. “I have already summoned help. Why didna you nae heed me, lass?” she hissed to Gillian.
Gillian had no time to wonder why Gizela had been so near at hand. She gave an agonized cry and ran out to the wagon, ignoring the cold that penetrated to her bones. Gordo was close on her heels.
“Och, nay!” she cried, nearly collapsing when she saw Ross lying in the bed of the cart with supplies piled around him and blood pooling beneath him. “What happened? He isna dead, is he?”
The thought that Ross might be dead sent her heart spiraling out of control. Ross couldn’t be dead! He was too strong, too vital. Who would want him dead?
“Get out of the way,” Gordo ordered as men arrived to carry Ross into the keep.
“Be careful,” Gillian admonished. “Doona hurt him. How did it happen, Niall?”
“We doona know,” Niall answered with marked impatience. “Ross was anxious to return home and rode on ahead. We followed in the cart some distance behind. We doona know when or how it happened. When we came upon him, he was lying on the ground, bleeding from his wound.”
“What kind of wound, and where is it?” Gillian demanded, following close behind the men carrying Ross into the keep and up the stairs to the solar.
Niall sent her a cursory glance, as if her questions were annoying. “He suffered a grievous wound, lady. Someone thrust a sword into his side.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“Ross is the only one who can tell us that,” Niall answered darkly. “When we find out, he will be avenged.”
They had reached the solar. Ross was lowered gently to the bed. With Gordo’s help, Gillian began tearing off his clothing to inspect the wound. When she finally bared his torso, she let out an involuntary cry. The wound was jagged and ugly, blood still oozing from it. And his body was cold, so very cold.
“He’s freezing!” Gillian exclaimed. “Bring more blankets, lots of them.”
“Move away,” Gizela said, gently pushing Gillian and Gordo aside. “I canna treat the laird with you hovering over him.”
Reluctantly Gillian moved aside, wringing her hands in despair. Ross’s breathing was shallow, his skin pale, his lips blue. He looked more dead than alive.
“Can you save him?” Gillian whispered.
“All I can do is try, lass.” She glanced over her shoulder at the people crowding into the chamber. “Get out, all of you. The laird’s wife will assist me. Bring hot water and clean cloths,” she ordered Alice, who hovered nearby, wringing her hands.
When Ross’s kinsmen lingered, Gizela said, “Get out, all of you; you too, Gordo!” The room cleared. “Close the door, lass.”
Gillian obeyed, then returned to Ross’s bedside. “What can I do to help? How bad is it? Will he live?”
“God’s will be done,” Gizela intoned piously.
Alice arrived with a basin of hot water and a stack of clean cloths. She placed them on a nearby table and departed. Gillian watched anxiously as Gizela carefully probed and then cleaned the wound with hot water and sprinkled dill seeds directly into the gaping gash.
“Thread the needle for me, lass; my eyes are nae as sharp as they used to be.”
Gillian searched for the items in Gizela’s medicinal basket. Her hands were visibly shaking when she attempted to push the thread through the eye of the needle, but she finally succeeded. Gizela snatched it from her fingers.
“His skin is so cold,” Gillian complained. “He must have lain on the frozen ground a long time.”
“You can thank God for that,” Gizela answered. “The cold thickened his blood, keeping him from bleeding to death.”
Gillian winced as the needle pierced Ross’s flesh, but Ross didn’t seem to notice; he didn’t even stir. “Did the sword pierce anything vital?” she asked fearfully.
“I doona think so, but it was close.”
Gizela tied off the last of the many stitches and reached for a jar of salve.
“What is that?” Gillian asked.
“Yarrow salve—it promotes healing.” She picked up several clean cloths and made a thick pad, placing it directly on the wound. Then she tore the rest into strips to wrap around Ross’s torso. “Lift him, lass, while I bind the bandage into place.”
Ross was deadweight in her arms as Gillian lifted his torso off the bed. Gizela worked fast, and moments later she instructed Gillian to lower Ross and cover him.
“Stay with him while I go to the kitchen to make an infusion of mandrake root. If we can get it down him, it will put him into a deep sleep and dull his pain.”
Gillian nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Ross couldn’t die. She wouldn’t let him. Reaching out, she pushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead, and then she stroked his cheek. If only he could tell her who had done this to him.
She kissed his cold lips and spoke softly in his ear. “Ross, can you hear me?”
No answer was forthcoming.
“Ross, please, tell me what happened. Who did this to you?”
Miraculously, Ross opened his eyes. They were dimmed with pain and confusion.
“You are safe, Ross,” Gillian crooned, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Gizela will take care of you. Can you tell me who did this to you?”
Ross stared at her. His mouth moved, as if there were something he wanted to say but he couldn’t quite get the words out. Gillian leaned close. “Try, Ross, please. Tell me who hurt you.”
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