My Notorious Highlander (Highland Adventure 5) (29 page)

With the
MacBains
and McMurdo skulking about, she couldn't walk on the beach anymore. She missed it. But she missed Torrin far more. It felt like he was a thousand miles away now. Tears burned her eyes, and she prayed he would be safe and return soon.

The sky was heavily overcast and the water of the bay dark, so unlike the sunny day she'd spent with Torrin out there. She still couldn't believe she'd been stealthy enough to knock him to the ground. She smiled, tears in her eyes, remembering the priceless look of shock on his face.
'Twas
the day he'd first kissed her… and the day she'd fallen in love with him. Though she hadn't realized it until later.

Why did life have to be so difficult? Why couldn't she simply marry him, conceive and give birth like a normal woman? She would give anything to be normal, and the type of wife he needed.

He was the best of men, accepting, understanding and always affectionate with her. He hadn't faltered in his pursuit of her. Weeks ago, when she'd seen him on the opposite side of that ravine, barely able to stand, his clothing drenched in his own blood, while Haldane held the knife to her throat, she'd known then that
Torrin's
heart was true. And that he would give his life for her if he had to.

But to marry him would be too much of a risk. If she were to do that and then be unable to provide him an heir, she would be devastated. If only she knew what the future held. She could certainly envision a joyful future with him. She could dream of making love to him every night, and several months from now, holding a healthy newborn
babe
in her arms, while he smiled proudly and kissed her.

But 'twas only a dream.

***

After spending the night in
Scourie
, Torrin, Iain and the rest of their party drew closer to
Munrick
that evening.
'Twas
only a couple of miles away. They had been traveling for two days through rough, rocky terrain, and Torrin was sick of riding. All the men and horses having to be ferried across a loch had also slowed their progress.

Maybe 'twas because of his recent injury that riding was tiring him more easily.
Saints!
He had to toughen himself up again. Or maybe 'twas because he missed Jessie so profoundly that he'd gotten little sleep the night before. He'd become used to her sleeping in his arms for the past week, and for her to suddenly not be there anymore was hell.

The sun was sinking low over the mountains, gleaming through the rosy clouds and sparkling off Loch
Assynt
below. Torrin would love for Jessie to see this view, for it would mean she was coming home with him.

Shouting and war cries snagged his attention. From the opposite direction, Highland warriors with swords and
targes
stormed down from the crest of the hill on foot.

Torrin's
horse reared unexpectedly and almost unseated him.

"Damnation." He held on. Once the horse was on all fours again, he drew his sword and slashed at the marauders nearest him. "MacBain," Torrin growled, recognizing the knave amongst those fighting.

Torrin's
abdomen was still healing, and therefore still weak and sore from the wounds, but he would not allow this miscreant to defeat him. Thankfully, with the dozen
MacKays
, Iain's men and
Torrin's
men, they were evenly matched.

Once
Gregor
MacBain had felled one of the
MacKays
, he charged Torrin. When he slashed
Torrin's
horse's flank, fury consumed Torrin. With a scream, the horse kicked at MacBain and spun. Torrin brought his sword down across
MacBain's
shoulder, slicing through his doublet and shirt. The man cried out and leapt back, blood soaking his clothing.

After grabbing his
targe
from his saddle, Torrin jumped to the ground, for an injured horse was unpredictable. The animal bolted away from the fighting.

Torrin was disappointed to see that he hadn't cut
MacBain's
sword arm, but the opposite one. Still, the cut would slow him down. The bastard's face was red and his teeth clenched. Good. Now he knew what Torrin had suffered. With his shoulder injured, MacBain had a difficult time holding his
targe
and dirk in fighting position, which left him vulnerable.

After sliding the leather straps of the
targe
onto his forearm and yanking his dirk from the scabbard on his belt, Torrin stabbed his sword toward
MacBain's
stomach, but he deflected the blow with his own blade.

MacBain bared his teeth and sliced at Torrin. He easily blocked it. Shoving his
targe
and dirk toward MacBain, he trapped the man's sword arm and jabbed his own sword toward
MacBain's
side. The blade slid deep into the flesh at near the same place MacBain had wounded him three weeks ago. MacBain screeched and stumbled back.

Pain burned across
Torrin's
leg. Damnation, the bastard had cut his thigh. Torrin redoubled his efforts and stabbed MacBain in the chest with his dirk, then again in the side.

Wide-eyed, the man cried out and dropped to the ground.

One of
MacBain's
men attacked Torrin from his right. He blocked his sword slash just in time. Seconds later, Torrin stabbed the man in the gut and cut his throat.

A horrid pain sliced across
Torrin's
back. Growling, he spun to find another of
MacBain's
men behind him.

"Coward!" Torrin yelled. He blocked his next blow with the
targe
, then drove the shorter man back with strike after strike. He shoved at the bastard with his
targe
, then used his dirk to stab him in the sword arm. The man howled in pain and tried to escape, but 'twas too late. Torrin slashed and stabbed with his sword, sending the bleeding man to the ground seconds later.

He turned to find some of the
MacBains
fleeing into the bush and up the hill. Several of them lay on the ground, dead or dying.

"How many did we lose?" he asked Struan, thirty feet away.

"Saints, Chief! You're badly injured again. We need to stop the bleeding."

Iain ran toward him, his shirt and doublet bloody.

"Are you wounded?" Torrin asked him.

"Only a few minor cuts."

Iain glanced down at
Torrin's
leg, below his sliced plaid. "You were cut badly. We have to get that bleeding stopped."

"
Luag's
dead!" Struan yelled, kneeling by him.

"Nay!" Torrin limped toward them, seeing that indeed his guard was unmoving, and drenched in blood, his eyes staring sightlessly. "Damnation."
Luag
had been by his side most every day since he'd become chief.

"Two of the MacKay guards were killed," Iain said. "And eleven of the
MacBains
."

Torrin shook his head, saddened by the death of
Luag
and also two of their allies. How he hated the
MacBains
. "Bastards," he growled. But at least he had killed their leader.

"Sit on the ground and let me see your wound," Iain said.

Torrin did, pulling up his plaid to bare the deep cut on his thigh. "One of the bastards sliced my back, too."

Iain muttered curses and pulled off his own shirt. He wrapped it around
Torrin's
leg twice and tied it tight. "That might slow the bleeding a little. Let me see your back."

Torrin pushed himself up, but when he stumbled, Iain helped him stand. He ripped the fabric of his shirt where it was sliced to better see the cut. "
'Tis
not as bad as the other one," Iain said. "But we need to get you to
Munrick
quick so the healer can stitch you up. We're only a couple of miles away."

"Aye," Torrin said, suddenly going lightheaded.

Sim
found
Torrin's
horse and led him forward. Pain lancing through his leg and his back, Torrin examined the cut to the horse's flank. It had bled some but was not terribly deep. He believed the horse would recover.

Agony bore through him, making mounting seem an impossible task. Dizziness assailed him and he caught against the horse and saddle. The bandage on his thigh felt saturated with hot blood.

"Struan!" he shouted at his sword-bearer, and though he tried to hold onto the saddle to keep upright, he felt himself sliding to the ground as all around him went black.

***

Torrin dreamed he was searching for Jessie in the night. Someone had stolen her away, MacBain or Haldane, he wasn't sure which. But all was dark, and he couldn't see. He couldn't find her.

"Jessie!" he yelled.

A strong hand on his shoulder pushed him back. "Torrin. She's not here right now."

"Iain?"

"Aye."

"Where is she?" Torrin opened his eyes to see that he lay in his own bedchamber at
Munrick
, a few candles lighting the dark room.

"Still at Dunnakeil."

Burning pain consumed his leg and his lower back. The skirmish. He remembered killing MacBain.

"You lost too much blood in a short amount of time," Iain said. "You were not fully recovered from your earlier injury when you got these."

"Aye." He well knew that, but was he going to survive? Would he ever see Jessie again? He slid down into the darkness yet again.

At Dunnakeil, Jessie forced herself to eat supper at the high table. Though her family and friends surrounded her, she was intensely lonely. Torrin had been gone four days, and she missed him terribly.

One of the guards rushed across the great hall to the high table. "The MacKay guards who went south with MacLeod are returning. We saw them in the distance," he told Dirk.

"Why are they coming back so soon?" Dirk shoved up from his chair and strode quickly across the great hall with the guard. Several others followed, including Jessie and Isobel. Was Torrin returning, too? What had happened? The
MacKays
had planned to travel south with Torrin to show him where Nolan was buried. They wouldn't have had time to do that.

When the soldiers rode through the portcullis, she was shocked to see two dead bodies, completely wrapped in plaid including their heads, lying stiff and straight, tied to the horses' backs. A cold chill shook her, and tears filled her eyes.

"Who is this?" Dirk demanded, motioning to the dead bodies. "What happened?"

"Henry and Ross,"
Dougal
said, his blue eyes pain-filled. "MacBain and his clan attacked us just this side of
Munrick
.
'Twas
a terrible skirmish. One of the
MacLeods
was killed, too."

Nay!
Jessie hurried forward. "Who?"

"The one they called
Luag
. Chief MacLeod was injured badly."

Icy fear poured through her. "Nay," Jessie whispered. Isobel put an arm around Jessie and held her close.

"MacLeod has two wounds and lost more blood. Iain told us that he was out cold for most of the night while we were there, and he has a fever."

Devastation crashed in upon Jessie, making her feel as if she were suffocating. "Saints," she hissed, her heart breaking. Tears filling her eyes, she felt herself trembling, but was unable to stop. She was so far away from him when he needed her.

"We killed eleven of the
MacBains
,"
Dougal
continued. "Chief MacLeod killed
Gregor
MacBain."

Jessie pressed her eyes closed. She was glad that bastard MacBain was dead, but more importantly, she had to see Torrin. Having so many severe injuries only weeks apart might be more than his body could deal with.

After Dirk gave his men orders, he headed toward Jessie.

"I have to go to Torrin," she said.

Dirk nodded. "I'll take you. We'll leave at first light. I'm glad you weren't with him. You could've been killed."

That was true, but she wished she was at
Munrick
now. It had likely been two days since
Dougal
and the other
MacKays
had left
Munrick
. Had Torrin grown worse during that time? Was he still alive?

***

"Dirk and Keegan will keep you safe," Isobel told Jessie in the solar that night.

"Aye." Too nervous to sit, Jessie paced before the fireplace, wishing they could leave this very instant, though she knew they couldn't travel very well in the dark. Too dangerous.

She had packed a few changes of clothes and had the servants prepare foods that wouldn't spoil during the trip. She prayed they could make the journey quickly for she had to reach Torrin as soon as possible. Flora would go, as well, and take her healing herbs. Jessie didn't know how skilled the healers were at
Munrick
. Aiden was going to take care of her puppy,
Greum
, so she didn't have to worry about him.

"I pray Torrin is much improved by the time you arrive at
Munrick
," Isobel said, sitting on the settle, her dark eyes worried.

Jessie nodded. "It kills me not knowing how he is at this very moment."

"I pray there will be no more attacks," Seona said. She turned from the window, tears in her eyes.

"Indeed." Isobel faced her. "Are you well, Seona?"

"Aye. But…" Seona wrung her hands and averted her gaze.

"What is it?" Isobel joined Seona at the window and took her hands.

Seona swallowed hard and smiled through her tears. "This may not be the best time to tell you this, but… I am with child."

"What?" Isobel exclaimed, then hugged Seona. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I only learned of it this morn. I wasn't feeling well and Keegan sent
Nannag
in to check on me. She thinks I am with child."

"Saints!" Isobel said. "Keegan does fast work."

Jessie forced a smile and embraced Seona. Though she was truly thrilled for her, she was still too devastated by the news of
Torrin's
injuries to give a real smile. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you and Keegan." She pulled back. "I'll ask him and Dirk to stay here for their own safety. You both need them now more than ever, since you will soon be parents. The MacKay guards and a couple of Keegan's brothers can take me safely to
Munrick
."

"Nay! Dirk wouldn't hear of it," Isobel said.

"I'm certain they will be safe and fight off any attackers," Seona said, though she still looked worried. "They did on our long journey across Scotland."

Isobel nodded. "Dirk and Keegan are two of the best at fighting."

"I just pray that we make it in time," Jessie whispered.

***

Two days later, Jessie and over twenty of the
MacKays
traveled south through the rugged granite mountains and along the green moors, interspersed with lochs and bogs. She had gotten little sleep the previous two nights, being terribly worried about Torrin. Last night, they'd stayed in
Scourie
with Lewis MacLeod, a friend of Dirk's.

Today, she rode between Dirk and Keegan. Half of the
MacKays
rode in front of them and half behind. Uncle Conall,
Dougal
, and Little Conall accompanied them. Jessie had also brought along her young maid,
Dolina
, and Flora.

Heather bloomed on the hills but Jessie barely noticed. Though she normally loved looking at the purple heather, all she could think about was taking a walk through it with Torrin. Tears filled her eyes. Annoyed, she wiped them away and hoped the men didn't notice. Dirk and Keegan would understand, of course, but she didn't want to appear weak.

She knew the two would much rather be back with their wives at Dunnakeil.

"I thank you both for bringing me," she said.

"No thanks needed," Dirk said.

"Indeed," Keegan agreed.

Though she had hoped they would talk more, to take her thoughts off her dark fears, they didn't. Did they suspect that Torrin wouldn't be alive when they arrived?

She bowed her head and tears dripped from her eyes.
Please God, keep him alive.

As late afternoon approached, Jessie could not believe how tired and sore she was. It had been a long time since she had ridden a horse for more than a few minutes. She feared she would be unable to walk once she dismounted.

A glistening loch reflecting the blue sky came into view in the distance as they rode carefully down a rocky incline.

"
'Tis
Loch
Assynt
," Dirk said.

"We are close?" she asked.

"Aye."

Her heart rate sped up and her stomach knotted. Pressing her eyes closed, she said another prayer.

Minutes later, they arrived at a smoother trail by the loch's edge and kicked their horses into a gallop, her heart pounding at the same quick pace.

A castle came into view in the distance. That had to be
Munrick
. As they approached, she saw that the gray stone castle had three towers and sat on a small island in the loch.
'Twas
a beautiful, magical setting with the green hills in the background.

She imagined Torrin inside the walls. Would he be better or worse?

As they drew nearer the guard house and drawbridge, the men riding in front of them moved aside, allowing Dirk and Jessie to approach first.

Sim
was one of the first people she recognized.

"Chief MacKay, Lady Jessie! Am I glad to see you," he greeted, his eyes wide with excitement. "Lower the bridge," he told the other guards.

"Are you certain?" one of them demanded, frowning and eying Dirk suspiciously.

"Aye, these are our allies, and they're here to help the chief."

"How is Laird MacLeod?" Jessie asked.

"He's alive but ailing something fierce. Thank the saints you've come. You can help him recover as you did last time."

"I hope so." She blinked back the tears burning her eyes once again.

The gate opened and the drawbridge was lowered. She, Dirk and the rest of the
MacKays
proceeded across into the walled cobblestone bailey.

Jessie quickly dismounted, her legs and derriere so sore she could hardly move. But she forced herself to walk stiffly toward the entrance. Where was Flora? She stopped and turned, seeing that one of the men was helping her dismount. The healer, completely unaccustomed to riding a horse, waddled forward. "I'm coming, m'lady," she said, carrying her satchel.

"Lady Jessie! Thank the saints."

She turned to find Iain standing in the portal.

"Come inside." He offered his hand to help her up the steps, then helped Flora. "Torrin needs you and your healer now more than ever."

"Is he bad?" Jessie asked.

Iain frowned. "Aye. I'm afraid so."

Please, God, don't let him be too far gone.
She followed Iain along one end of the great hall and up a narrow turnpike stairwell, Flora and
Dolina
trailing behind. At the end of a short corridor, Iain opened a door and motioned her inside. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll send a maid to assist you."

Jessie rushed into the bedchamber. Torrin lay in a large four-poster bed with his eyes closed, his skin was so pale. "Saints!" She touched his feverish brow. "Torrin?"

His eyelids fluttered and then he moved his head. "Jessie?"
'Twas
naught more than a breath.

"Aye, I am here."

Frowning, and with seemingly great effort, he opened his eyes a crack. "Missed you."

Tears filled her eyes. "I missed you, too. You must get better."

"Aye."

"I've brought Flora, the healer, with me."

At the moment, she was conversing with another woman in the corner of the room, near the door. Another healer, perhaps.

Torrin's
hand moved from beneath the layers of blankets and clasped onto hers.

"Have you eaten anything?" she asked, holding his hand tight.

"Not hungry."

"How long has it been?"

He shook his head a little and frowned.
Saints!
Could he not even remember when he'd last eaten? "Would one of you go see if there is any fresh broth in the kitchen?" she asked the two women. "And if there is, bring some. Some ale, too."