The Brightest Star in the Highlands: Jennie and Aedan (Clan Grant Series Book 7) (6 page)

“I recognize how precarious this will be for me, but I will do what I can. I will not lead the charge, but I shall be there as chieftain. I am obligated.” Somehow, he felt this was wrong. Jennie’s advice would not leave him. He knew fighting would jeopardize all he had gained in the two sennights since his injury, but as chieftain, it was his job to lead. He prayed his sire understood the precarious position he was in, and would not think poorly of him for staying to the rear.

“And as chieftain, you have an obligation to protect yourself. Your clan cannot afford to lose another in such a short time. Ruari is not yet of age.”

Neil, the head of his guard, rode up on his other side. Neil had been a most trusted warrior of the Camerons for as long as he could remember. He had been most devoted to his sire, and Aedan would never forget that loyalty.

Neil said, “I will lead the charge, Aedan. Dermid is right. We cannot lose a second chief within such a short time. You are here, which is most honorable, but I see how pained your movements are. Leading the charge would be the same as sending you to slaughter. If your sire was alive, he’d have my arse for even allowing you here.”

Aedan quirked his brow at Neil.

“No offense intended, my laird. I know how hard you try, and your efforts will be rewarded, but only if you are still alive. I respectfully request to lead the charge, as I have before for your sire. Our lads have trained hard since the skirmishes first started.”

He pondered his guard’s advice, then came to his conclusion. “Aye, I’ll stay at the rear, but only because it will give me a better opportunity to watch the attackers and their movements. With any luck, it will help me identify them.” He glanced ahead and saw the group of marauders headed straight for them, swords in the air, intent on killing them all.

Aedan raised his sword to the best of his best ability and bellowed the Cameron war whoop while his men followed, but he slowed his horse and allowed the others to overtake him. Just one lift of his sword sent warm fluid running down his belly, just as Jennie had advised. He would have to be careful, but he would not go back. He had promised his sire, and as much as he detested battle, he would continue onward. His honor would allow nothing else.

The clashing of swords echoed in the warm midday sun of early autumn, and Aedan was proud of how hard his men fought. As usual, the marauders were not wearing plaids, and there were no crests or anything else to identify them. However, he detected one important clue.

Some of the attackers shouted orders without a brogue. They were English. This explained why no one recognized them. They were not from this area.

Who was driving this group? What was their mission? He drove into the group with his sword drawn, hoping the strength of his sword arm would be enough to compensate for the fact that he could not put the force of his full body behind each swing.

But the lass had been correct in her assessment. Not long into the fight, he grew light headed. He could ignore pain, but he couldn’t clear his head. A fog settled in his brain to the point of slowing his movements. A quick assessment of the field told him his warriors were stronger than their opponents, and would prevail. There were few injuries on their side and all remained seated on their horses. The other side did not fare well.

In fact, if he had held back a few moments more, everything would have turned out fine. But he was stubborn. He continued to fight through the haze in his brain, clutching his sword with a weakening grip. He swung at the next attacker and speared him on the end of his sword, a death blow for sure, but not before the warrior swung his sword and knocked Aedan clear off his horse.

Chapter Six

Word had come back to the castle that Aedan had fallen. Jennie ran to the great hall to locate Lady Cameron, who anxiously awaited her son’s return.

“Lady Jennie,” the older woman said in a hushed voice. “Will you see to Aedan’s injuries when he returns?”

“Of course, Lady Cameron. Please send a maid to me so I can arrange for everything I need.”

“Aye, ‘tis done.” She grasped her arm in both her hands. “Please heal him. I could not bear to lose him. Please?” Tears misted in her eyes.

“I’ll do the best I can, but I must assess his condition before I can make any promises. He is a strong man, my lady. He will fight to live.”

Lady Cameron paced in front of her, clutching her skirts. “I understand, but please let me know if there is aught else I can do.”

Ruari burst through the door.

“Are there many injured men? Have you heard?” Jennie asked.

“There are a few, but only Aedan is doing poorly,” Ruari answered. “I should have gone in his place.”

Lady Cameron paced. “Lady Jennie, This is my second son, Ruari. Mayhap you have not met yet. Aedan should not have gone, but he is a stubborn lad, much like his father. Och, but he makes me wring my hands.”

“It would be helpful if you lined up the injured warriors in the great hall. Have someone clean their wounds of any visible dirt, and set out plenty of water and clean linen strips. Do you have someone who can tend to them?”

“Aye, I will see to it. But I must do something else first.” She twisted the fabric of her skirt in her hands. “Pardon me, but I must go to chapel to pray for our clan’s well-being. Then I will return to complete your requests.”

Ruari ushered his mother out the door. “I will take care of everything, Mama. Go to the chapel.” Once the door closed, Ruari turned to Jennie. “I am responsible, though they do not believe in me. I will see to your requests, Lady Jennie. We have healers to take care of the minor injuries, and the report I received was that all injuries are minor. The only concern is Aedan.”

Jennie nodded to Ruari. “I know how difficult it is to be the youngest in the family, though I am not a lad. Your time will come.”

“I have waited patiently,” Ruari said as he squared his shoulders. “I have done all that is asked of me and more, but both my mother and my brother choose to ignore me. I can be of use, Lady Jennie. Someday, I hope they will take notice of my abilities.”

“They will, lad. Continue to improve and be aware of all that transpires. There is a young lad at our keep who has proven his mettle over and over, but sometimes, his methods are not the best.” Jennie smiled when she thought of young Loki, Brodie’s adopted son, and all he had done for their clan.

“Truly?” His face lit up.

“Aye. Loki knows all, and shows up when ‘tis naught but a surprise. Be alert and wise, and you will reap the rewards.”

“My thanks, Lady Jennie. These are difficult times, and I worry for my family.”

She gathered her skirts and headed up the stairs to ready Aedan’s chamber.

As she headed down the passageway, she arranged her necessary tools in her mind. Today she wasn’t offended by the request for her talents. This was appropriate—since she had tended to Aedan’s wound in the first place, she was compelled to see how bad his further injuries were.

Why? What had changed? She quickly denied the possibility that she cared for him. She cared for all her clan members, but she hadn’t wanted to continue her healing work there. The maid opened the door and waited for Jennie to address her.

“My lady? How can I help?”

“Some linen strips and a couple of basins of fresh water, if you please, Aggie.”

Aggie bowed her head and left the chamber. Moments later the door burst open and a disgruntled Aedan entered, pushing at the hands of Neil. “Leave me be. I can get myself there.”

He stopped as soon as he noticed Jennie standing at the side of the room next to the chest where she had assembled her tools. In one glance, Jennie noticed his blood-stained tunic and plaid, the limp in his gait, and the way he held his side as he walked. She caught the pain in his gaze before he rubbed it away, obviously intent on hiding the extent of his injuries from her.

“My lady.” He nodded and flopped into the chair that sat in front of the hearth.

“Please allow me to assist you in removing your plaid and any other blood-stained garments. Is there a new wound or is it the same?”

He sighed, taking his time before he answered. “I believe ’tis the same injury, though I will only know for sure once I look.” He stood and dropped his plaid onto the floor before removing his tunic, leaving him in naught but his breeches. “Neil, check on the other warriors and report back.” Neil nodded and left.

Jennie’s mouth turned dry at the sight of Aedan’s bare chest. Hundreds of male chests had passed in front of her over the years. Why was she reacting like this to his? Her face turned a bright red, but he paid her no attention. He seemed to be too preoccupied with studying the wound to notice Jennie’s response to his body.

Finally wresting her gaze from his beautiful chest with its spattering of chest hair, she forced herself to address the situation at hand—his wound. The jagged edges of his old wound were the same, but he had ripped a new wound at one end of it.

Aggie arrived with the basins of water and the linen strips. As soon as she caught sight of Aedan, she cried, “Och, my laird! What have you done?” Blushing, she quickly added, “Forgive my rudeness.” She rushed back out the door, but halted at the last minute. “Is there aught else, my lady?”

“Nay, but please return in a few moments to check. And take his sodden clothing to wash.” She handed Aggie the plaid and tunic, and the other woman disappeared.

Neil came back in the room, his hands on his hips. “How much damage did he do?”

Jennie answered, “I’m about to check as soon as I can get him into bed.”

Aedan carefully settled on the bedding, then turned onto his side so he could give Jennie a full view of his injury.

She hid her immediate reaction, forcing herself to act as if naught unusual was in front of her.

“Well?” Neil asked.

“‘Tis the same injury, only worse. All the previous stitches are out, and the wound has gone deeper and a bit longer. I must place two layers of stitches, using a much finer hand this time. And…”

“And what?” Aedan asked.

“And you must promise not to ride into battle for a fortnight.” She looked first at him, then at Neil to gauge their reactions.

“I cannot promise that.” Aedan’s exasperated gaze told her that he would not budge on the matter.

“You must or you’ll kill yourself.” Neil paced the floor of the large chamber. “Do your clan a favor and listen to your healer. You can lead without being on the battlefield. We need you to stay alive.”

“There’s no sense in wasting my energy to place the stitches if you are intent on tearing them apart again,” Jennie replied, hoping it would be enough to make him see reason. If he continued to ignore his wound, she hated to think of what would happen.

“Neil, what did you learn of the attackers?” Aedan glanced at the head of his guard and motioned for Jennie to continue her work. “Get on with it, lass. I’m not looking forward to those wee stitches you promised.”

Frustrated that he would not agree to her requests, she continued simply because she could not walk away and leave him to bleed to death. And the stitching he required would be as tedious and time-consuming as she had described it.

Jennie covered his private parts as best she could and began the process she had learned from her mother, cleaning the dirt and the dried blood from his skin before preparing to stitch the edges of the wound together. The cleaning helped her see the edges of the wound better, and truth be told, this was the part of healing she loved. She enjoyed learning about the body, working through the blood. She often wondered how it flowed through the body, what kind of a network made it flow so heavily to thin areas like the face. She admitted to being entranced every time she saw the inside of a body. Someday she would like to make a drawing of the innards of the belly, and the inside parts of the neck. It would help her and other healers know how best to sew up wounds.

She listened to the men discuss the battle while she did her work.

Neil shook his head and paced. “Curse it, but I have not seen any of these men before. I thought I heard some speaking with an English accent.”

“Aye, I noticed the same. Most were English. Why would the English come so far to pose random attacks? And it puzzles me that there is no clear leader. Who is driving the group? There does not appear to be any chieftain or laird in charge, but why would they kill just to kill? As far as we know, they are not stealing sheep or grain. I know not what they are about.” Aedan winced and gave Jennie a quick glare. “Are you that angry with me today, lass, that you wish to rip off my skin yourself?”

Jennie smirked. “My apologies, I have often been told that I am a wee bit aggressive when it comes to cleaning my wounds.”

Aggie entered the room with more water.

“My thanks, Aggie.”

Aedan waved at Neil. “Go now. Find out how the lads fare and who else needs stitching. See if anyone remembers aught about the attackers.”

Neil left the room and Aggie followed him, leaving them alone together.

Aedan glanced at Jennie. “Can you not start the stitches soon so we can be done with it?”

“Aye, I am about to begin. You are prepared?”

“Just be done with it, lass. Clearly ’tis not my first time. I’ll deal with it.” He rested his head on the pillow and stared into space.

Jennie began her stitches, carefully placing each one, humming as she moved along.

“You no longer sound like one who detests the job of healing.”

“’Tis no job, ’tis an art. And this part is pleasing to me.”

He lifted his gaze to catch hers and then glanced down to see exactly what she was doing to him. “Lass, you look like I do on the darkest of nights.”

“What do you mean?” She returned her attention to her sewing, but was interested to hear his response.

He rested his head back on the pillow and stared at the wall. “I love dark starry nights most of all.”

“You mean you’re not happiest while in a battle like most Highlander lads?”

His eyes widened. “Nay, I don’t like warring at all. I only do it because I must. I am obligated as chieftain to protect my clan, which includes the abbey. If I lose the battle, who knows what will happen to my sire in heaven.”

“You’re an honorable lad,” she said softly. “I don’t think you need to worry about your sire’s place in heaven.”

“Mayhap not. But do you not ever wonder about the stars at night? Did you know there are men who study them? The patterns in the sky are basically the same, and these men have named some of the patterns.”

Her brow furrowed. “Hmmm. I guess I haven’t thought much about it. I haven’t really spent much time looking at them.”

“Lass,” he said with a sigh. “You know not what you are missing. They’re so beautiful, so exciting. I’ve always wondered what they are made of. Are they balls of fire? Why are some stars clustered in groups, almost as if they create shapes? Why do they not always shine with the same strength? And on a dark stormy night, do you not wonder what makes lightning? ’Tis so bright, and all across our land there are tales of balls of fire hitting the ground. Why does a strike of lightning take a man’s life?”

She laughed. “Those are quite a few questions. I see we have a bit in common.”

He reached up and ran his thumb across her cheek. “I will agree with that statement, but what is it you think we have in common?”

She blushed under his scrutiny. “Curiosity.”

“And what is it you are curious about, Jennie Grant?”

“The body.” Her blush turned from pink to a deep red when he raised his eyebrow at her. “I know you well enough to guess what you mean, but you ought to be careful about who you tell. I do not know if the nuns would approve of such a statement.”

Jennie giggled. “Nay. Look at the inside of your wound. Can’t you see?” She pointed toward the grizzle and torn flesh. “Do you not wonder where it goes? Where all the lines for blood go? How does it travel so fast through the body? It goes through the heart, but how does it get to the other organs?” She stopped her stitches for a moment, carried away by excitement. “Did you know there are thin coverings over the organs in the belly? They’re completely see-through! I’m not sure what they are there for unless ‘tis to hold everything inside. And what happens when I sew up the different parts? Do I miss a certain part sometimes? There are so many pieces of flesh connecting to so many others, all part of some intricate network that operates the body, but I know not how. Have you ever thought of it?”

She lifted her gaze from his wound to his face and caught him staring at her. “What is it?”

His eyes sparkled. “Do not stop. Tell me more.”

“I have often wished to draw a diagram of the body. There is just so much to learn. And when a woman gives birth, there are so many parts…” She blushed as she peeked at him, halting her conversation. Perhaps he did not wish to hear about women’s parts. “Why do you look at me so?”