Page 13 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

“She nearly killed my friend Sarah Nicolson’s child with her bow and arrow.”

“Sarah is alive? And her child?” Isolde asked in a tight voice.

Rowena scowled. “They live, in spite of what you did to them.”

At the news, the weight of Isolde’s guilt lifted from her shoulders. All this time when she didn’t hear about anyone other than her brother surviving the incident at Scorrybreac, she’d assumed the worst. A deep sob of relief escaped Isolde’s throat as she sank to her knees. “I was so afraid . . .”

“The child’s leg was injured by your arrow. She walks, but not as other children do.”

A girl. “I am so sorry,” Isolde choked out. Tears scalded her eyes as the agony of that day coiled in her chest yet again. How would she ever make up for all the pain she’d caused that poor innocent girl?

“Your apology won’t heal her leg,” Rowena bit out. “And I’ll not give you the chance to harm anyone else, especially Gwendolyn. She has suffered plenty already.”

“Enough.” Gwendolyn forced her way past Rowena’s extended arms and made her way to Isolde’s side. She knelt beside Isolde and placed a hand upon her shoulder. “There are always two sides to every story.” She pointed to Isolde’s damaged arm and dishevelled state. “Isolde certainly hasn’t come away unscathed by whatever happened.”

Gwendolyn lifted her gaze to Rowena. “Give her a chance to explain once she is returned to health herself. Judging by the blood on her cloak, I’d say she’s greatly in need of our help and compassion.”

“I’ll go get Lottie,” Fiona said, exiting the chamber.

“Would you go to the kitchen and ask for water to clean her wounds, Rowena?”

Rowena hesitated then nodded. At the doorway she added, “It will take more than water to clean away what spoils this one’s soul.” Then she was gone.

“Pay Rowena no mind.” Gwendolyn put an arm around Isolde’s waist and helped her stand. “Rowena has become overly protective of all of us during the past few months. She doesn’t mean what she says.”

“If she does, I would not blame her,” Isolde said, leaning on Gwendolyn as they made their way towards the bed.

Gwendolyn settled her atop the coverlet and sat beside her. “I am convinced there is more to the story than what Rowena has heard from her friend.”

“There is, but that doesn’t change anything that happened.” All of Isolde’s strength suddenly vanished. She shivered as a chill came over her body and a numbness entered her soul. She closed her eyes and wished for the millionth time that her brother would someday forgive her for what happened, and that she could somehow escape being forced back into spying on her countrymen if she were ever discovered by the English. Even death would be a welcome release from that form of conscription again.

“Isolde.” Gwendolyn’s voice reached out to her, pulling her back from sleep. “Stay with me until Lottie tends to your arm.”

“Are you not afraid of me after what Rowena said?” Isolde forced the words past her suddenly dry throat. “Perhaps I am as horrible as she fears.”

Gwendolyn smiled. “All men and women wear masks to protect themselves, Isolde. Your cloak was your mask. You willingly took it off when asked.” Gwendolyn shrugged. “That, if nothing else, tells me what lies in your heart. Once you stay here for a time, the others will take off their masks as well.”

Did Isolde care what lay in the hearts of those around her? She wasn’t planning to stay long at Dunvegan. Only until she healed enough to protect herself once more.

Any further conversation died as the door opened and a man entered the chamber, carrying a bowl and a pitcher of steaming water, which he set by the bed on a table.

After the man departed, Rowena entered bearing a tray of food. She was accompanied by an older woman. In her hands, the woman carried a large bag that she set beside the water. Following the two women was Orrick.

He strode towards the bed and stood beside Gwendolyn. “I can stay with her now.”

Gwendolyn stood, then stepped away. Orrick immediately slipped into her place and offered Isolde a soft smile. She was drawn by the sheer intensity of his manner. His dark eyes were upon her, brilliant, sparkling with vitality in his handsome face.

“That is quite a wound you have there, my dear,” the healer said in a soothing voice. “’Twas very brave of you to staunch the bleeding yourself.” She sat on the bed opposite Orrick and studied Isolde’s blackened marks on her upper arm. “You did an admirable job, considering how painful that must have been.” She opened her bag and withdrew a small brown vial. She removed the stopper and handed it to Isolde. “Drink this. It will help with the pain and make my job a little easier on us both.”

Orrick nodded. “Lottie knows what she is doing. I will remain beside you the whole time.”

After releasing a pent-up breath, Isolde did as instructed and drank the entire contents of the vial before handing it back to the healer.

“Very good,” Lottie stated. “Let’s clean out that wound so that I might stitch what you failed to seal.”

Instead of tensing as Lottie peeled back fragments of charred skin from Isolde’s arm, the medicine Lottie had given Isolde helped her relax into the softness of the bed.

Orrick brought his hand to rest over Isolde’s. “You’re going to be well enough. Lottie will take care of you. Rest while she works. It will be the best thing for you.” Following a light squeeze, he pulled his hand away.