Page 40 of Only a Highlander Will Do

“I’ve sent word to the MacKinnons, the Nicolsons, and the MacLeans of Coll, though I doubt the latter can arrive here on the morrow. We may have to set out for Monkstadt without them.”

“We go to war then,” Orrick said, his face a tight white mask.

Alastair nodded. “We go to free our sister. If Alex MacDonald will not release her, then we go into battle.”

The proclamation of war did not fill Tormod with the usual exhilaration this time. Instead, a heaviness invaded his limbs. On the morrow he would once again face death. In the past, that was something he had anticipated, even laughed at. But now he had a reason to live, a reason to return from the battlefield.

Even if that reason lay abovestairs fighting for her own life.

*

The next morning Tormod stretched to relieve the tension in his back from sitting at Fiona’s bedside all through the night. Just as he returned to sit beside Fiona, the door of the bedchamber opened. Alastair stood in the doorframe. His gaze moved over Fiona’s body lying motionless on the bed. “Has she woken up yet?”

“Nay. The blow she took to her head must have been worse than we initially thought.” Tormod inhaled sharply and turned back to his wife and the livid bruises marking Fiona’s neck. She looked like a small, helpless child who had been mercilessly beaten. Sudden rage flared in his chest as he gently tucked the linen sheet closer about her abused throat. “I’ve done everything I can, but it’s been an entire day and she’s not much better. Do you think I killed her?”

Alastair wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t do this to her. Alex MacDonald did.”

Tormod had never been able to bear cruelty to the helpless. When he went into battle, he fought men who were able to defend themselves, and if he found an option besides killing his opponent to stop the fighting, he usually took it. Despite his desire to save lives where he could, there was a dark side of him as well. He had tried to put aside his coarser tendencies for Fiona. He’d felt happier with her at his side than he had in a very long while. And still it wasn’t enough. “She ran away from me.” His gaze lifted to meet Alastair’s. “So aye, it is my fault she is hurt, and it will be my fault if she dies. It is also my fault that Alex MacDonald now has Rowena in his grasp.”

“Row . . . ena . . . Where . . . is she?” Fiona’s voice was a mere breath of sound. Her eyes were open, shining wildly in her white face.

“You’re safe. Rowena will be as well.” Tormod pulled Fiona into his arms, rocking her gently. God, she was no more substantial than a thistle fluff. He’d managed to get a little water down her throat but not a bite of food.

Tears fell down her cheeks. “Will be? Alex captured Rowena?”

Tormod framed Fiona’s face with his palms and looked straight into her eyes. “Rowena will be back with us soon. Until then, she’s a fighter just like her brothers.” His palms gently stroked the wetness from Fiona’s cheeks.

“This is . . . my fault. I should not have left . . . Dunvegan. My home was destroyed anyway. My people were injured.”

“Is that what your father whispered in your ear? That he would destroy Ulster Castle?” He had to swallow to ease the tightness in his throat. She hadn’t left because of him?

She looked away, pressing her lips together as if trying to decide whether to tell him something or not. Finally, she turned back to him and he saw pain reflected in her eyes. “Alex and my father . . . they wanted me to kill you. If I did not . . .” She drew a deep breath before continuing. “They would destroy everything precious to me.”

His grip tightened about her. She felt so fragile in his arms, but he knew she was not. Since the moment they’d met in the forest, she’d shown more courage and strength than many of the fiercest warriors he’d challenged in battle. “You left all alone to try to prevent that from happening.”

“I left so I wouldn’t have to kill you.”

“Always protecting others, aren’t you?” He moved his hand up to stroke her hair with extreme gentleness and a possessiveness that felt natural to him. He didn’t know when that shift had taken place, but his emotions regarding her were more intense than they had ever been for anyone else in his life. “Perhaps it is time for someone to protect you.”

She sighed and nestled more deeply into his arms. “And what about Rowena?”

“We are riding out to go get her later today. We’ve asked three other clans to join us for this battle. We are waiting for them to arrive.”

She stiffened, no longer at ease. “You’re going to war?”

Tormod closed his eyes. Lord, he was so tired. He hadn’t slept at all last night as he waited for some sign of improvement from Fiona. Fortunately, his prayers had been answered. He opened his eyes, straightened, then eased Fiona back onto the bed. He could focus on other things now that he knew she would be well, eventually. “There is no other choice.”

Fiona’s brow wrinkled in a frown. “Your mother says there is always another choice.”

Tormod’s gaze met his brother’s. “My mother knows many things. But none of the MacLeod children are going to take advice about war from a ghost.”

“If I had listened to her, I wouldn’t be in this bed and Rowena would still be here.”

When Gwendolyn appeared in the doorway, Alastair moved to her side. “Sorry to intrude,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that clan Nicolson has arrived. The laird would like to speak with both of you to strategise.”

Tormod leaned forward and placed his lips tenderly over the bruises that marred her neck, and then briefly upon her lips, trying desperately not to show her the impending sense of doom that had settled inside him. “Rest. Regain your strength. I’ll check back on you before I leave.” Without looking back, he left the room, pausing at the door only briefly to ask Gwendolyn to keep watch over Fiona, then he was gone.

*