Highland Moonlight (13 page)

them at a less frantic pace from behind.

As he and David rounded a bend in the trail, the trio, turned in unison

to look over their shoulders. The three men abandoned their stolen bounty

and kicked their mounts into action.

Alexander whooped a war cry, and quickened the pace of pursuit. The

raiders broke free of the trees and headed for open ground just as Duncan

and the clansmen with him cut ahead right in front of them.

His horse galloping full out, he closed to within a stone’s throw of the

lad bringing up the rear when his horse fell from beneath him. He flipped

over the animal’s head and landed heavily on his shoulder. Stunned, he lay

still as the world spun then righted itself.

The agonized screams of his mount brought him staggering to his

feet. He looked about for any threat, but found no sign of his brothers or the

men they pursued.

The horse struggled to rise as the bone protruded from its lower leg, a

devastating injury. He ignored the pain in his shoulder as he stooped to

comfort the animal. Bracing a knee against the gelding’s neck, he forced it

to remain on its side, as he drew his dagger and quickly slit its juggler.

Warm blood spurted from the wound and the animal grew still almost

immediately as blood streamed onto the ground.

He swore at the loss of the valued steed as he straightened to his feet.

Too late, he heard the warning hiss of an arrow. The deadly missile plowed

into his thigh and sent him staggering back. He dove behind his dead

mount and drew his sword as the horses thundered past his position.

“Alexander!” David shouted his name as he leaped from his horse

almost before the animal had come to a stop.

Placing his sword close to his side, Alexander drew his dagger. He slit

the fabric of his kilt to expose the injury.

David’s face paled and his eyes grew round as he viewed the wooden

stave.

“Has it gone through to the back, David?” He turned gingerly exposing

the back of his leg.

“Nay.”

Alexander drew deep breaths to control the pain beginning to surface.

“Ride back to the castle, David. Tell Mary and father what has happened.

You must prepare them. Duncan will be back for me.”

“Nay! I will not leave you!”

The horse’s blood covered the front of his kilt making it next to useless

in controlling the flow of blood from his leg. “Give me a scrap of your kilt. ‘Tis

cleaner than mine.”

David cut away a wide strip from the fabric draped over his shoulder

and tucked the rest back in place beneath his girdle.

Folding the wool around the hilt of the arrow, Alexander pressed it

against the injury to staunch the trickle of blood.

Duncan and the others returned a short time later, the three offending

thieves not with them.

“Go now, David. Take Gabe with you.” He slapped his brother’s

shoulder in encouragement for his worried countenance offered him no

comfort.

David raced to his horse and heaved himself into the saddle.

****

brother accidentally brushed his arm against the shortened shaft of the

arrow. Blood ran in a thin rivulet down his leg to his knee, but he couldn’t

staunch it and retain his seat behind his brother at the same time.

“I did not know you could speak so colorfully, Brother. You have not

used the same blessing twice since we lifted you upon my horse,” Duncan

spoke over his shoulder.

“I do not fancy losing my life over a flock of sheep. I can not believe the

lad shot me.”

“Reiving was only a game to us. ‘Tis taken more seriously these

days.”

Alexander grunted in pain as the horse’s hindquarters bunched

beneath him. They climbed upward, crested the rise, and then started down

into the valley. Every movement jarred the arrow embedded in the muscle

as he tried to retain his position atop the horse’s haunches. He gritted his

teeth against the pain and swore silently at his own carelessness.

“I can not believe you allowed yourself to be caught in so unprotected a

position, Alexander. Mayhap your mind was not on the task at hand but on

some other problem,” Duncan quizzed, laughter in his tone.

Alexander breathed an oath. He did not appreciate his brother’s humor

when his blood slowly seeped out.

“Mayhap I can offer a suggestion or two. I have some small experience

with women.”

“I am not interested, Duncan.”

“Sickness brings out the mother in all women, Alexander. If I were you,

I would allow Mary to do a bit of mothering. A warm breast is a better place

to rest your head than a pillow, is it not?”

The idea had more than a little appeal. “She has threatened to pierce

me herself. She will probably be glad someone has finally done so in her

place.”

“Threatening is not the same as doing, Alexander. I do not see her

seeking revenge in any manner. Does she harp at you in private?”

“Nay.” She had so little to say to him of late he found it difficult to

approach her.

“‘Tis a woman’s purpose to be needed. A well placed arrow could

prove very useful.”

“You are devious, Brother,” Alexander accused. The idea was a good

one. He gritted his teeth again as the shaft of the arrow was jarred. “By the

time we arrive I shall be so weak from loss of blood ‘twill be easy to act

helpless.”

****

awaiting their arrival. His father stood outside the heavy hall door, but Mary

was not present.

Two men rushed forward to help Alexander dismount. “Where is

Mary?” he ground out through teeth clenched against the pain.

“She rode out about an hour ago and has not returned yet,” John

answered.

Alexander swore and attempted to pull away from the two supporting

him. He had frightened her with his manly display, and she had fled. To

where? He pivoted on his good foot intent on mounting Duncan’s horse and

going after her.

The sound of an approaching horse had the group turning toward the

main gate. Mary appeared atop a small mare, her cheeks red from the cold

air, her hair flying in a tangled mass.

One of the men ran forward to grasp the reigns of her horse and she

dismounted. “What has happened?”

“Alexander has been pierced by an arrow,” David explained.

Alexander gritted his teeth against the pain as they carried him into the

great hall. He sighed in relief when they lowered him on to the table before

the fire. The pain eased to a dull ache, as long as he did not move.

“Would you loan me your dagger, Gabriel?” She asked the large

bearded man who had helped him inside. She shook free of the cloak and

tossed it across a bench close by.

He presented the knife to her, handle first.

Alexander eyed Mary warily as she studied the hole in his kilt. “There

are no pieces missing from the cloth,” she said, relief in her tone. She

folded back the garment to examine the wound. Blood oozed from around

the injury, but the bleeding was not as serious as he had thought. He

relaxed beneath the gentleness of her touch as she probed the abused

flesh. Her hand gently guided him to turn on his side so she could view the

depth of the arrow.

“Cora, please bring some wine,” she said as she positioned a basin

of water and some clean strips of cloth close beside her. Her eyes looked a

clear, glorious blue against the whiteness of her skin. Though her

demeanor remained calm, he could read the fear and worry behind the

composure of her features. She folded her cloak and placed it beneath his

head. “‘Twill have to come out, Alexander.”

“Aye,” he agreed.

“‘Twill have to go the rest of the way through first,” she said softly as

she bathed away the blood turning his skin a pinkish hue.

He swallowed, sickened by the thought.

“The head of the arrow is just beneath the skin. I will prick the skin at

the point of the arrow and push it forward just enough to cut the head off the

arrow. Then the shaft may be drawn out more easily and with less pain.”

He nodded.

Mary went to the fire to thrust the blade of the dagger into the flames

then set it aside. She bathed his bloodstained hands while they waited for it

to cool.

“David said you had to kill your horse.”

“Aye.”

“I am sorry. I know how valuable he was to you.”

“He did not suffer long.”

Her touch soothed him, though the pain had grown worse again.

She set aside the pinkish water and accepted a fresh bowl from Cora.

“I am sorry for any pain I may bring you, Alexander.” Her gaze steady,

she smoothed his hair back in a gesture of comfort.

“I forgive you any pain you may bring me, Wife.” He attempted to

summon a smile for her.

“I will push the arrow forward, Mary,” John said as she moved around

behind Alexander.

His gaze settled on his father, grim with concern. David’s hands came

to rest on his shoulders.

“Duncan, will you cut off the head of the arrow?”

“Aye.” He stepped beside her immediately.

She cut the back of his leg and the pain pricked him. The arrow

popped through the skin easily. With two swift slices of the blade, Duncan

used his sword to free the head of the arrow from the shaft.

Alexander’s eyes met hers as she circled the table to stand before

him. He felt his father grasp the wooden shaft. He focused on Mary’s face

rather than the men surrounding him. The pain, sharp and deep, sliced

through him as the shaft drew free with one sure tug.

He sucked in his breath and held it against the worst of the agony. He

nearly came off the table though when she poured the wine over the wound.

The pain radiated up into his groin and ran down to his knee. Some

moments passed before his vision cleared and he was able to breathe

again.

She applied pressure to both wounds with a cloth until the bleeding

had stopped. Her touch soothing, she bathed away the blood that had

streaked across his legs. After carefully applying a balm to the injury, she

pressed a clean folded cloth across it.

“You have had much experience tending such wounds, Mary?” He

watched as she tore strips of muslin with which to bind the injury. Weak and

shaky, Alexander relished the time to rest.

“Aye. My aunt and uncle have nine children. Six of them are lads. There

was always someone who needed tending.”

He had never known a woman to hold her own council half so well. He

was discovering her a small piece at a time, like pealing away the petals of

a flower to uncover the heart.

She finished tearing the strips. “Has the pain eased now?”

“Aye, some. You did not warn me about the wine.”

“The dread of it would have made it worse.” She caressed his cheek in

a gesture of comfort. Her gentle touch filled him with a gnawing hunger that

rivaled the pain in his leg.

“You may have some wine to drink while you rest after I have bound

the wound, Alexander.”

He wanted more than that. Duncan’s suggestions ran through his

mind with greater appreciation.

David and Duncan lowered him into a chair before the fire where she

could more easily bind the injury. She cleared away the basin and cloths

and left the room.

His father moved to stand before the fire “She did well,” he said.

“Aye,” Alexander agreed.

“‘Tis of value having a wife who can tend you when you are ailing.”

John braced a foot on the hearth and eyed his eldest son with a frown.

“Aye.”

“‘Tis of value to a woman to have a husband who can do the same,”

he suggested.

Resting his head against the high back of the chair, Alexander studied

his father’s features without comment. It seemed his entire family had

advice on how he could win favor with his wife. He felt light headed.

David moved to his father’s side and Alexander’s attention rested on

him.

“‘Twould not go amiss should you smile at her now and again and

speak to her as a lady instead of a servant.”

His resentment flared and he stiffened. “I did not speak to her in such

a way.”

“You did on the allure today,” David said as he folded his arms against

his chest. “‘Twas by my invitation she was there, though she did not say

when you ordered her down.”

“‘Twas not a proper place for you to escort her,” John said, scowling at

his youngest son.

“She wished to see the lay of the land.”

“Aye, probably to plan her escape,” Alexander said. With freedom

before her, why she had returned?

“She is your wife, Alexander. She proved she would stand by you at the

council meeting. You should be searching for peace between you,” John

said, his tone stern.

Alexander clenched his fists atop the chair arms. His thigh ached like