Highland Wedding (24 page)

“M’lord,” Murdo cried as he hurried forward buckling on his sword.

“Follow as ye can, man. We cannot hesitate,” Phelan yelled as he vaulted onto his horse. “Do ye know the way, Alex?”

“Aye,” he answered as Robert mounted behind him. “We can be there in but minutes.”

“Pray God He allows us those minutes,” Robert said as they galloped out of Muircraig.

Islaen fought the blackness that threatened to engulf her and struggled to her feet. She had no time for the luxury of pandering to her hurts. Looking toward Iain and MacLennon she wondered frantically what she could do to help.

She cried out in dismay when MacLennon picked up the wood she had used as a club. Even while she tried to keep a close watch on the fight she searched the area for Iain’s sword but could see no sign of it. Then MacLennon struck Iain and she forgot all about the sword. Iain was staggered by the blow, truly helpless, and MacLennon was going for his sword. Trying not to make a sound, Islaen moved towards the rough club MacLennon had tossed aside. She grasped it even as MacLennon, sword in hand, turned towards Iain and smiled gloatingly.

Iain fought to stay conscious. The blow to his head had staggered him. It had also cut him, sending blood streaming into his eyes and blinding him. He was helpless, unable to avoid the blow MacLennon was sure to give him. He prayed Islaen had fled once she
had given the signal to bring help. MacLennon did not seem to realize what she had done and Iain hoped that this time the man would die.

As if through a fog he saw MacLennon lunge at him. He stumbled out of the way but felt the tip of MacLennon’s sword score his side. The way the man laughed told Iain that the man played with him and he cursed viciously, wishing he had his sword. Naked and rendered helpless, then taunted by a madman seemed a poor way to meet one’s end. There was little glory in it.

For the first time in her life Islaen tasted pure hate as she watched MacLennon taunt Iain. It was cruel beyond words to play so with a man. Iain was helpless, could barely see where his foe stood and could not fight back, not even if he had held a sword. Her love had to know that the death stroke would come, had probably braced for it, yet MacLennon tormented him by holding back. It was good that MacLennon sought such a twisted pleasure, for it allowed her time to creep near enough to strike at him, but she loathed the man for it.

When MacLennon stepped back after scoring Iain’s thigh, Islaen struck. The man was a lot taller than she but her club was long enough that she could reach his head well enough for a sound blow and that was what she aimed for. Putting all her strength and fury behind her swing, she struck him. Despite the hatred she felt for him, her stomach churned at the sound made when her club struck his skull.

Her dismay faded abruptly when he ceased to stagger and turned towards her. Shock caused her to drop her club when she saw the damage she had done. With such a wound in his head the man should not be standing, she thought, yet he advanced on her. He gave a cry that made her shudder, then hit her. Islaen felt her head explode with pain. She seemed to fly backwards, then landed hard upon the ground. There was another burst of pain in her head and the last thing she was aware of was a scream that sounded as if it was torn from the throat of something less than human.

Despite wiping frantically at his eyes, Iain was unable to fully clear his vision or help after Islaen struck MacLennon and the man turned on her. Hearing the sound of a blow, he echoed Islaen’s cry of pain. He took one step towards her, barely able to make out her crumpled form, when he froze. MacLennon seemed to clutch his head, then screamed in a way that chilled Iain’s blood. For an instant MacLennon wavered, then collapsed. The ensuing silence was something Iain found as chilling as MacLennon’s inhuman cry.

Moving towards the two sprawled forms, Iain stumbled and fell to his knees. After trying several times to get up, he started to crawl towards Islaen. Despite his growing fear for her he paused by MacLennon. He knew he should make sure that the man could not rise up to threaten them again.

Looking closely at MacLennon Iain knew the man was dead even before he checked for a heartbeat. He did not need perfect vision to know that such a head wound had to be fatal. Iain was amazed that the man had not immediately died or at least collapsed.

“Islaen,” he rasped as he reached her side and her stillness began to terrify him. “Islaen, can ye hear me?”

Never had he felt so helpless. He could barely see and he knew he was very close to blacking out. Islaen needed his help but he could not even keep himself upright. All he could do was pray that she was alive, that someone had heard her call for aid and would
be there to keep her alive.

When his shaking hand could locate no pulse he nearly wept. In trying to put an ear to her chest to find a heartbeat he collapsed on top of her. Beneath his ear, however, he heard the steady beat of her heart. With a deep sigh of relief he gave into unconsciousness knowing that, even if Muircraig had not heard the call, someone would come when they were absent for too long.

“Sweet Jesu,” Alexander breathed as he came upon the scene. “They are all dead.”

“Nay,” Robert cried as he dismounted and raced over to his sister.

He gently moved Iain off of Islaen. She was bruised on her face and her shift was splattered with blood. Once he was sure that she was alive it took him several moments before he was sure that her only wound was a bad bump on the back of her head.

“Iain lives as weel,” Alexander reported, “but he has a bad head wound.”

“So does Islaen,” Robert said as he moved to get the blanket so that he could wrap her in it.

“How fares MacLennon?” Alexander asked Phelan.

“Quite dead.” Phelan rose from where he knelt by the man. “Someone caved in his head.”

“Good. The bastard has been a plague for too long. Help me get Iain’s braes on. I am certain he wouldnae wish to be taken back home naked.”

Alexander and Phelan had just finished covering Iain’s nakedness when the men from Muircraig arrived. While Phelan and Murdo bathed Iain’s wounds, Alexander saw to the making of a litter for Iain. Islaen could easily be carried safely by a man on a horse but Iain would be far too great a burden. Once satisfied that matters were seen to, he knelt by Robert who sat holding Islaen, gently pressing a cool damp cloth to her forehead and vainly trying to rouse her.

“What do we do with MacLennon’s body? Do we leave it to the carrion?”

“T’would please me to do so,” Robert growled.

“Me as weel,” Alexander said coldly, “but we best take him with us.”

“Why? The mon deserves no Christian rights. He was mad and tormented twa people that had done him no wrong.”

“Aye, Robert, but he has haunted Iain for o’er twa years.” Alexander sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I cannae say for such has ne’er happened to me but in his place I think I should like to ken that my tormenter is indeed dead.”

“He killed the mon. He must ken that he is dead.”

“Aye, he killed the mon but he may have fallen himself ere he was certain that the mon was dead. Best we take the body so there can be no doubt in Iain’s mind that he has finally won.”

Looking from his unconscious sister to the equally unconscious Iain, Robert met Alexander’s worried gaze and asked softly, “But has he?”

“Islaen,” Iain cried and tried to sit up only to be held in place by one strong hand upon his chest. For one panicked moment he had feared to find himself still in the wood and MacLennon still alive, still threatening him and Islaen.

“Where is Islaen?” he rasped. “I must see Islaen.”

“Islaen lives. Now, drink this.”

After painfully swallowing the soothing herbal potion Alexander helped him drink, Iain demanded, “Where is she?”

“In her chambers with Meg and Storm holding court over her. She hasnae woken up yet,” he said softly.

“How long?”

“Since yesterday.” Alexander held Iain still again when he tried to rise.

“I must see her.”

e must stay in this bed, friend. Ye would only fall flat on your face if ye tried to rise and I have toted ye about enough.”

Iain knew Alexander was right. He could feel the weakness of his body. So too had he suffered some dizziness simply raising himself slightly with Alexander’s help. To stand up would get him nowhere but sprawled upon the floor. He ached to see Islaen, however, and cursed his helplessness viciously.

“Come, she lives. Let that be enough for now.”

“Would ye?”

“Nay, but ye have e’er had more sense.”

“I have had no sense at all since I set eyes on her. MacLennon?”

“Dead. Do ye recall bashing his head in?”

“Nay, for t’was not I that did so but Islaen.”

“Islaen?” Alexander gasped.

“Aye, she…”

“Wait. Let me fetch your kin. They have awaited your great awakening. If ye had but waited an hour, t’would have been Tavis setting here.”

“Ere ye fetch them get me a chamberpot,” Iain said with a sigh, disgusted to be needing help with even that.

Alexander helped him as he emptied his bladder, then hurried away to find the MacLagans. Iain found that he needed the few moments it would take to fetch his kin to recover from the simple chore of relieving himself. By the time they arrived, he was able to tell them all that had happened. Recalling the nightmare of that time left him weak and he knew most of that was because he could not yet see Islaen. Each memory only made him more aware of all she had endured.

“I still cannae believe Islaen struck him down,” Alexander murmured and shook his head. “She is such a wee lass.”

“Ah, the lasses can surprise ye, laddie,” Colin said with a nod. “If they were trained as lads are, they could probably wield a sword.”

“She should have been riding away, fleeing as I had ordered her to,” Iain muttered.

“Ye had about as much chance of her heeding that order as I would have had with Storm an it had been us in that trouble. Ye were still in danger, weaponless, and she couldnae leave ye. We wouldnae leave them. ’Tis no surprise they feel the same.”

“Aye, I ken it, Tavis, but that madman nearly killed her once. I wanted her out of
his reach. Ye are certain he is dead? I recall deciding he was.”

“Verra dead,” Colin assured him. “We have his body. Put it in a vat of brine. Thought ye might need to see to be sure.”

“Nay. I saw him. I just wanted someone to agree with what I thought I had seen. Confused as I was, my head reeling, I still knew dead when I saw it. Just wasnae sure whether to believe it or nay. This has gone on for so long.”

“’Tis o’er now,” Tavis said. “Now that ye have roused I think ye will soon be up and about.”

“But will Islaen?”

“She isnae a muckle great beast like you. T’will take her longer. An it will ease your mind, I will ask Storm to come speak with you.”

“Aye, please. An I ken all that I may about how she fares I may rest easier.”

When his kin left and Alexander took up his seat by the bed again, Iain closed his eyes. The visit had worn him out. He wanted to wait to see Storm but soon drifted off to sleep again. Twice more he woke, then dozed before waking to find Storm entering the room with a tray. He grimaced with distaste when she helped him sit up and placed the tray before him.

“Gruel.”

“Just for today, I think,” Storm said as she sat down near the bed. “Now, ye eat and I will tell ye what I can about Islaen.”

“What do you mean—what ye can?” he growled as he started to eat and discovered that he was hungry enough to enjoy even gruel.

“I am no physician, Iain.”

“Praise God. Those fools would bleed her and she doesnae need that.”

“Nay, she does not. Iain, it has not been that long yet. From what I was told I know t’was a terrible ordeal. Some of this sleep may be due to that. All that she suffered wore her out, exhausted her. That could lengthen the sleep the knock on the head sent her into.”

“Ye dinnae sound too sure of that.”

“What you hear is ignorance. I do not know much of head wounds. No one does.”

“Ye havenae eased my worries much, lass. Can ye tell me naught that is good?”

“She lives, Iain. Aye, the lump on the head is large but neither Meg, myself nor e’en Wallace can feel any damage done beneath the skin. The cut left by the blow was but a small one. She does not sleep the sleep of the dead. Several times she has stirred and cried out. That is a good sign, I believe. T’would seem to show that she has not pulled too far away from us.”

He nodded, then sighed. “I wish to see her.”

“That must wait, Iain, but not for much longer. Mayhaps e’en on the morrow.”

When Storm rose and reached for the tray, he grasped her hand. “Thank ye for tending her so weel.”

“I tend her because I care for her. We have become dear friends while ye were so much away.”

Smiling crookedly, he murmured, “I deserve the condemnation I can hear in your voice.”

“Nay, Iain, I…”

“Dinnae lie to soothe me. I begin to think I have been too much soothed.”

“Your fears were very real, Iain.”

“Aye, but I let them rule me, force me to hide away like some craven dog. Alexander didnae soothe me.”

“Alexander meddles,” Storm muttered, fearing the man had hurt Iain.

“He does but I cannae fault him this time. He was right and, in speaking blunt, in trying to make me think about what I was doing, he gave up something—the chance to claim Islaen.”

Storm grimaced. “I had wondered if ye had noticed that.”

“Aye, I had noticed and Alexander told me himself.”

“There has been naught but friendship between them, Iain.”

“I ken it. Islaen says t’will truly be that and no more especially an he finds a lass that can look beyond his bonnie face. There is more beyond it than e’en I kenned. He saw what I did and made me see it. Aye, I was trying to protect Islaen, trying to be certain she wouldnae be left grieving or with child if MacLennon won, but I was protecting myself too and I was failing at it. Do ye ken what I mean?”

“Aye. Ye did not wish to care for her,” Storm said softly. “I am not the one ye should be telling this to,” she continued.

“I ken it but I feel a need to test my words. Do ye think she can understand and forgive me?”

Storm decided it was not her place to tell him how easily Islaen could do that. “I should think so especially if ye have some sweet words for her as weel.”

“Oh, I think I can manage a few,” he drawled, then sighed. “I pray I havenae lost my chance.”

“Nay,” she picked up the tray, “I just do not feel that is so. Rest, Iain, and might I make a suggestion?”

“Aye, what?”

“Be sure ye have her where ye can talk all this out without interruption and mayhaps where ye can have a few days to prove to her that ye mean it. That might not come for a few days. There will be people about and she will need time to heal.”

Iain sighed and nodded, recognizing the wisdom of what she said. He had many months of foolishness and neglect to atone for. There would be wounds to be soothed and he could not do that in a few snatched moments. Since Robert had sent word to the MacRoths, he suspected that a few snatched moments would be all he would get for a while.

When he woke up next it was with a start. He bolted upright in bed and suffered a moment’s confusion, then knew what had awakened him. Islaen was crying out his name. He started to get out of bed and suddenly Alex was there.

“At least put your braes on e’er ye stumble in there,” Alex said even as he helped Iain do so.

“Where did ye come from?”

“A pallet in the corner. T’was thought t’would be wise to watch ye close a while longer.”

Even as he stood up Iain realized he would need the supporting arm Alexander put around him. The ache in his head had lessened considerably but he was by no means healed. As they started towards Islaen’s chambers, Iain cursed his weakness for it slowed them down.

With the slow return of consciousness, Islaen was assaulted by the memories of the ordeal with MacLennon. The most tormenting of all the visions was Iain standing helpless before an armed MacLennon. She grew more and more afraid as she realized that she did not know what had happened after she had been knocked down by MacLennon. The thought that Iain was dead made her scream his name. She sat up only to cry out as her head throbbed with pain. Clutching her head she still struggled to leave the bed, driven by her need to see Iain, but Storm and Meg hurried over to stop her.

“Lass, ye cannae just sit up and dash off,” Meg cried as she struggled to make Islaen lie back down.

“I must see Iain,” Islaen protested but found that she was much too weak to fight Meg and Storm and was soon tucked back into bed.

“Ye cannot see Iain,” Storm said firmly.

“He is dead then, isnae he,” Islaen said in a flat lifeless voice. “MacLennon killed him.”

“Weel, an he did, lass, he did a muckle poor job of it,” Iain drawled, arriving in time to hear her words.

Her head ached so badly she found it hard to see clearly as she turned towards the voice. “Iain?”

“Weel,” he slipped into bed beside her, “’tisnae Alexander climbing into your bed.”

“Och, weel, mayhaps next time,” she jested, her joy at finding that he lived raising her spirits despite the pain in her head.

“Islaen,” he growled and glared fleetingly at Alexander who chuckled merrily.

She gripped his hand tightly. “I feared ye were dead, Iain. I couldnae recall how matters stood after MacLennon struck me. I must have been knocked out.”

“Aye, for twa days.”

“How did ye escape him?”

“He fell right after he struck you.”

“That was the scream I heard.”

“Aye. Your blow to his head took a moment to work but work it did.”

“He is dead then?”

“Quite dead, Islaen.”

“I should be glad of it and, in part, I am but I wish it could have been otherwise.”

“It had to be, Islaen. He ne’er would have let us be. His madness demanded that he keep on until one of us was dead.”

She nodded but carefully, in deference to her aching head. He was right. MacLennon had left them with no other choice. The only way to stop his madness was to kill him. She just wished she had not been the one to strike the killing blow. Despite all the man had done and had planned to do, something inside of her drew back in horror over the violence she had committed.

“Come, Islaen, ye maun drink this potion,” Meg urged as she stood by the bed and held out a goblet.

Islaen made a childish grimace and turned away, curling up at Iain’s side. “Nay, I willnae drink it.”

Although he sympathized with her feelings, having had to put down a few potions
in his time, Iain said a little sternly, “Be this any way for a grown woman and mither to act?”

“Aye,” Islaen muttered, “and ye would act the same had ye drunk any of Meg’s vile potions.”

“I havenae killed ye yet, lass,” Meg said crossly.

“It has been a near thing a time or twa.”

“Islaen,” Iain said with quiet firmness though he felt an urge to laugh.

“Oh, verra weel.” She tried to sit up but started to feel dizzy. “Wheesht, I am weak.”

Supporting her, Iain nodded. “Aye, so am I still but I can feel my strength returning e’en now. Ye were unconscious longer than I. T’will be a while ere ye can run about, lass. What is the potion for, Meg?”

“Murder,” Islaen grumbled.

Meg ignored her. “To ease her pain. I ken weel that her head hurts.” Meg nodded in approval when Islaen downed it and ignored the girl’s grimaces. “I made it weak for ye.”

“Will it make me sleep?” Islaen asked making no protest when Iain settled her comfortably in his arms.

“I dinnae need to give ye aught for that. Ye will sleep a muckle lot for a day or so, child.”

“But I only just awoke.”

“She is right, Islaen. I did the same.” Iain sighed and shook his head. “I couldnae stay awake long at all e’en when I tried.”

“Weel, now that ye have seen how she fares, sir,” Meg said to Iain, “ye can go back to your own bed.”

Resisting the urge to hold tighter to him, Islaen murmured, “Aye, ye neednae stay here, Iain, if ye dinnae wish to.”

“I wish to. I am staying here.” He settled himself more comfortably in the bed as if to add strength to his firm pronouncement.

“But I maun tend to the lass and all.”

“Meg, Islaen and I are wed. I dinnae think I will see aught I havenae seen before.”

“So gently put, my friend,” Alexander murmured as Meg gasped and Islaen groaned softly in embarrassment.

For only a moment was Islaen concerned about a need for some privacy. She needed Iain more. Her fear that he had been killed still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“I think t’would be best an Islaen got some rest now,” Iain said softly as he felt his wife go lax in his hold. “An her kin travel here as swiftly as they did after the bairns came they will be here on the morrow. She will need rest to see them.”

Meg frowned but nodded in agreement. “Aye and they will insist upon seeing the lass too. I will sit for now, m’lady,” she said to Storm. “’Tis your turn to rest. Aye, and Master Iain’s right. The MacRoths will come soon and there will be a muckle lot of work.”

Islaen woke with a start partly because Iain had and partly because of a loud crash. Peering over the shoulder of a softly cursing Iain, she smiled. The still shuddering door explained the crash.

“Greetings, Fither. Have ye nay learned to knock yet?”