Page 94 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
When he rounded the corner, he saw the source of the heat.
The healer’s chambers were on fire. More shouts rang out as the guards, the servants, and the healer tried to juggle the buckets of water that were being passed down the passageway to the room.
The screams mingled, barely rising above the cacophony of footsteps on stone. One by one, the buckets were brought, and the water was thrown to douse the flames.
Archer got as close as possible before the heat became too intense. He grabbed the healer by the arm and pulled her aside.
“What happened?” he shouted.
“I dinnae ken,” she shouted back. “One minute I was sleepin’, and the next I was chokin’ on smoke. I dinnae ken how the fire started.”
“I ken why,” Archer barked. “They were tryin’ to kill Reid. Did someone get him out?”
“Nay!” the healer squeaked. “That’s what we’re tryin’ to do now. I had to get out meself, but if we can douse the flames enough, we can go in there and pull him out.”
Archer’s heart sank. Not only for the information that would be lost if Reid didn’t make it out of the room, but also for the loss Eileen would feel. He knew she would feel it as intensely as he had when his father died.
“Douse me!” he shouted.
“What?” the healer sputtered.
“Douse me! It’ll take too long to manage the flames. I’m goin’ in there and bringin’ him out.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s nae a suggestion,” he warned. “It’s an order.”
The healer stood silent for a second—too long, given the circumstances—before she turned to the nearby servants.
“Dump the water on the Laird. We need to get him as wet as possible!” she ordered. “Come on, quick as ye can.”
No one wasted a beat. The line of water buckets was diverted, and instead of being poured on the flames, they were poured on Archer. By the fourth bucket, he became restless and darted to the door.
The water on him turned to steam as he got close, and he realized he was moving too slowly. He ran into the flames without giving it a second thought and found himself in the smoke-filled room. Heat assaulted him from all around, stabbing at him like red-hot pokers. He couldn’t see his own hand before him.
He went by memory, stepping to where the bed should be, then bent down and searched for Reid. He felt a warm body and quickly picked him up.
“I’m sorry to do this to ye,” he said.
It would hurt them both, but if he remained in the room any longer, they would both die. He threw Reid over his shoulder and ran back the way he had come, his shoulder bumping against the doorframe as he burst into the passageway.
“Back to the Laird!” the healer shouted.
Water was poured on him and Reid, and he felt the heat recede slightly. When they stopped, a chill ran through him, but his face and hands still felt on fire.
He stumbled forward, pulling Reid further away from the smoke before placing him down and propping him against the wall.
The healer ran to them, crouching down beside Reid and placing her hand on his neck.
“He’s still alive.” She sighed in relief. “Ye saved his life.”
Eileen lay in bed, trying to listen to the sounds in the castle. Whatever was happening was still happening, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. All she knew was that she’d been locked in the room and there were guards outside the door who’d been ordered not to let her out.
Still, she felt vulnerable. She got out of bed and picked up her clothes—her long skirt and tunic, boots, and shawl. She gotdressed, then retrieved her dirk, sheath, and belt from the chair, wrapping them around her waist and buckling them at the side.
She didn’t know how much help the dirk would be, with whatever was going on, but she felt safer with it. She pulled her cloak over the dirk to conceal it.
If the weapon is a surprise, it’s as good as an extra strike when ye wield it.
