The Highlander's Servant: Book One of the Highlander Possession Series (20 page)



              They had all waited impatiently for the men to return, often times taking turns at the window to watch for their arrival. It had grown dark and the skies became desolate of all stars. The moon was barely visible among the clouds, and the trees swayed back and forth as if waltzing in the breeze.

             
Kirstin stood by a large window in the foyer. Her arms were wrapped around her as if to keep her warm, and her cheeks remained tear-stained. The majority of the servants had gone to bed, but Mrs. Croft, Alana, Farrel, and Bradan stayed attentive.

             
Kirstin saw a man come down from the path, and then another. Within seconds, more men came limping her way, their hands covering wounds or bruises.

             
“Lachlan,” Kirstin croaked, and then she turned around and said much louder, “Everyone! They have returned!”

             
She fled from the window and flew open the door. Kirstin picked up her skirts and ran to the men who met her halfway. Her friends and a few servants followed behind her, running with the same speed.

             
“Where is he?” she asked the first man who held his bleeding shoulder, “Where is Lachlan?”

             
“The Laird?” The man replied, “He has been greatly injured, ma’am. He falls back behind, carried by two men.”

             
The man was right. As Kirstin’s gaze fell back past the wounded men, she saw Lachlan with his arms around two men’s shoulders, limping her way. His half lidded eyes were hazed over, and blood was oozing from his middle.

             
“Lachlan!” Kirstin shouted. By now Alana had caught up to her and they both ran to him. The men carrying him did not stop, though, and continued bringing him to the manor. Alana and Kirstin worriedly assisted them until they had brought him to his chambers and laid him down onto his bed.

             
“Kirstin,” Alana hissed, who was scrutinizing Lachlan’s wound that spread across his stomach, “Go wake the servants. We need warm water and an herb solution. Tell Runa to bring her supplies. She is our healer.” Kirstin nodded breathlessly and scurried out of the room in haste. She went to the servant’s quarters and began demanding that they wake up.

“Who is
Runa?” Kirstin asked one of the servants who had already awoke.

             
The servant pointed to a middle-aged woman, with many curves, a straight nose, and brown hair who was groggily awaking from her cot, “That is her ma’am.”

             
Kirstin thanked the servant and rushed to the woman, “Runa.” She said and the woman’s matching brown eyes met her blue ones, “Aye?”

             
“The Laird has been injured. Alana seeks yer assistance in his chambers.”

             
“Men and their ways,” Runa shook her head in disapproval, “Always causing me to lack sleep.” She continued complaining under her breath as she stood from her cot. Runa took a bag off of one of the dusty shelves and slowly began to go to Lachlan’s chambers.

             
Kirstin dreaded the woman’s sluggishness, and she wanted to chastise her into moving faster, but the woman did not seem so keen on the situation at hand. By the time Kirstin had grown much too impatient with Runa and her pace, they had arrived.

             
Men and women encircled the laird who lay half conscious in his bed, still bleeding. Alana and a much younger servant, were tending to his wounds but upon seeing Runa, they stopped.

             
“Oh! I thank ye, child!” Alana threw her arms into the air, “What took ye so long?”

             
Kirstin hesitantly looked to Runa, and Alana expressed a look of understanding. They both watched as Runa sat her bag next to Lachlan and began to take out various tools and jars. She mashed many leaves from the jars in a bowl, and then mixed it with some of the warm water to make a healing remedy.

             
Runa continued to mix things and lather Lachlan’s biggest wound with the mixtures. Lachlan yelled out in pain when she began to knead the solution on the inside of his gash, and then he fell into unconsciousness from the intolerable pain it had caused.

             
It took several more minutes of Runa’s work before she tended to his much smaller wounds. By the time she had finished, Alana was pushing people out of the room, “Go on, now. Let us leave.” She scolded those who defied her as a mother would its child.

             
When Kirstin made to leave, Alana stopped her, “Oh no, dear. Ye need to stay here with him. The laird will need ye when he awakes.” Kirstin had been so overwhelmed by watching Runa tend to Lachlan, and so worried, that she did not argue with Alana. Kirstin wanted to stay with him.

             
When everyone had left, including Alana and Runa, Kirstin shut the door. She made no hesitance to crawl onto the furs of Lachlan’s bed.  Putting her head gently onto his shoulder and wrapping an arm across his upper chest, she prayed for Lachlan.

             
It was not until the middle of the night, until Lachlan showed any sign of consciousness. He stirred, shifting a bit so that he could wrap his nearest arm around Kirstin’s middle.

             
Kirstin moved closer to him, allowing his arm to wrap around her. Then, she placed a light kiss to his lips. When she pulled away, Lachlan breathed out a satisfying sigh. It was as if he had forgotten about the pain, and only felt his heart swell from within his chest because of Kirstin’s gentleness.

             
She was so delicate, and her tenderness towards him only confirmed how much she cared for him. Lachlan smiled at the thought, and then opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of her own. Kirstin looked more than concerned when he looked at her.

             
“Ye had me worried sick.” She whispered, tears coming to her eyes, “I thought ye were going to die.”

             
“Nay,” Lachlan’s voice was raspy and dry. He wheezed briefly before continuing, “I will never leave ye. Besides, ‘tis only a flesh wound.” His joke did not come off as funny to Kirstin and she wanted to scold him for it but knew better than that.

             
“No one ever explained it to me,” Kirstin whispered once more, taking notice of the only candle by a side table. The wax had diminished and the flame was dying, “What happened?” she finished.

             
Lachlan furrowed his eyebrows, a crease becoming evident in his forehead, “We called it a truce, and then I lowered my weapon and the bastard attacked me.”

             
“And what of Graham?” Kirstin feared his next answer.

             
“He got away, as did several of his men.” Lachlan wheezed again and Kirstin was careful not to ask any more questions.

             
“Very well then,” she cooed, “Let us rest. When we wake in the morrow, ye can finish answering my questions.”

Lachlan smiled at her for being so mature and sincere, “Aye.” He said, pulling her closer against his side once again.



It was raining as if it had not rained in days. The ground was soggy beneath Neil’s feet, the mud molding around his boots as he ran from the stables and into Graham’s manor. Water dripped from his blonde locks, down his cheeks to make it seem that he had been crying even though he had not.

Upon entering the doorway, he stomped his feet loudly on the rug. He was careful as to not track any of the thick sludge on the wooden floors. A servant came to his assistance almost instantly, giving him a linen cloth to wipe his face with.

Then, not one more minute passed before he was summoned to Graham’s chambers. Neil dreaded speaking to Graham, but nonetheless he obeyed the orders. The door was wide upon when he came upon Graham’s study, so he paid no second thought to enter.

“Neil.” Graham said, his tone neutral.

“My
Laird.” Neil nodded his head in respect and then approached the red haired man who sat at his desk as if waiting for him.

“Where have ye been the past several hours?” Graham’s lips pressed before adding, “And where is the girl?”

Neil’s eyes hardened, and Graham had caught it for the briefest of moments but said nothing, “Kirstin,” Neil said her name with emphasis, “I couldna find her. They must have arrived at the manor by the time I left to fulfill yer orders.” It was a half lie.

Graham grunted, “Then ye have failed me, have ye no’?”

Neil’s face contorted into that of both fear and anger, “Aye.”

“Mayhap,” Graham continued, “
Yer not worthy enough to be my squire, unless ye can prove to me otherwise?”

“How so?” Neil feared his answer all the more.

Graham hummed momentarily, before replying, “Bring me Mrs. Croft.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

              Many days passed with no word from spies about Graham. Things had slowed down gradually to the point where Kirstin and Lachlan could spend the hot summer days in their field. Lachlan’s stomach had yet to completely heal and at first he had to use a cane to get to places. Now it had begun to heal faster, leaving a light wound that had to be kept clean on a daily basis.

             
Kirstin had been lying in the grass, picking the flowers around her and smelling them every so often. Lachlan had accompanied her that day. He sat next to her and drew small, intricate designs on her bare arm.

             
It was on this particular day that Lachlan’s heart had picked up another beat, making it beat all the much faster and harder for his beloved. It swelled within his chest with fervor and joy, and he had found himself suddenly breaking the silence between them, “Would ye marry me sooner?”

             
Kirstin strayed her attention away from the flower that she was looking at, and observed Lachlan’s blank expression, “What do ye mean?”

             
“I mean,” he said almost breathlessly, “Will ye marry me sooner? By the next moon?”

             
Kirstin was in utter shock. They had originally planned on completing their matrimony before the next winter, not before the end of the summer. Yet, something within her became excited at his newest proposal, and even though she thought over his words for several minutes, she could not deny her answer to him, “Aye.”

             
“Aye?” Lachlan asked in a calm state.

             
“Aye, I will marry ye within the next moon.” She explained, giving him a small grin of her own. Lachlan was so full of warmth that he did not mistake to kiss her, pushing his weight onto her body despite the pain in his middle. He soon pulled away and put his forehead against hers, “My heart will only ever beat for ye, Kirstin Croft.”

             
Her lips were so close to his when she replied, “As mine will only beat for ye, Lachlan Bateson.” Her tone was low, deep, and meaningful.

             
And then he kissed her again.



              Kirstin had been flushed throughout the rest of the day. Often times she found herself beaming at thoughts she would have considered senseless if anyone else had been thinking them.

             
“Why are ye blushing and smiling like a youngling who has their first admirer?” Kirstin snapped around to find her mother with arms crossed and a concerned look.

             
“Mayhap,” Kirstin replied, smiling again, “’Tis because I do have my first admirer.”

             
“Enough of this.” Mrs. Croft said more seriously, “What has ye in such a good mood. I must ken, for ye have been this way since midday.”

             
Kirstin grinned up at her mother, “Oh, ma! ‘Tis wonderful news! Lachlan and I have made our matrimony to occur by the end of the next moon,”

             
Something crossed in Mrs. Croft’s face, something of sharp malice and disapproval. “Why are ye speaking such nonsense, child? Yer no’ getting married until at least another three moons.”

             
“Nay,” Kirstin replied, “Ask Lachlan if yer in denial.”

             
Mrs. Croft was at loss for words. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she argued, “But the preparations willna be done by then. Surely ye must wait until fall.”