Page 8 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

Orrick released the child’s face and, as gently as possible, scooped the girl into his arms. He could see blood staining her shredded stockings. “I’ll need to take you back to Dunvegan quickly.”

The woman stood, further tucking her arm beneath her cloak so that Orrick could not see the extent of her injuries. “My campsite is closer.”

He nodded and turned away as his horse approached. He set the girl on the saddle then turned to the woman. “You should ride with the child. I’ll walk.”

She hesitated for a moment then nodded. The look in her eyes said she trusted him or was too injured to object.

As she approached, the horse tossed his head and pinned his ears back, but remained steady while she climbed onto his back. Did his horse sense danger from this woman? Or could it sense her injuries? The smell of blood always made Phoenix unsettled. Perhaps that was why the animal acted as he did. For in her current state, the woman was harmless, but just to be certain, he reached up and grasped the end of her bow, removing it from her shoulder.

She tensed and gripped the bow, stopping his movements.

“It will take all your focus to keep you and the girl on the horse.”

After a moment she nodded and allowed him to take the weapon. Once they were settled, Orrick gathered the reins and patted Phoenix’s head, trying to calm the animal. “Which direction do we head?” he asked the woman.

“To the east. Towards the base of Healabhal Beag.” The woman flinched and pain etched the corners of her mouth as Phoenix set in motion, but she held her cries of pain in check even as the little girl continued to sob within the curl of the woman’s arms.

As they journeyed, the little girl’s crying turned to sniffles. The relative quiet, while welcome, only intensified the questions racing through Orrick’s mind. Why was the woman out here alone hunting? How long had she been on her own in the wilderness? Who was she?

They’d gone nearly a quarter of a mile when she swayed in the saddle as though the strength that had sustained her until now had suddenly left her. Orrick reached up to steady her, placing a hand at her trim waist. At his touch she stiffened and righted herself. “You were about to fall from the horse,” he explained as he withdrew his hand.

“We are almost there.” She pointed into the distance. It took Orrick a moment to realise what he was looking at. At first, it looked like a small gathering of sycamore trees that had lost their leaves for the winter. But then he saw the lashings around them and the unusual tilt from their base. When they came closer, he saw a darkness behind those trees that was the opening of a cave. He would have passed by it if he hadn’t been directed to it, for it was that well hidden.

Orrick led Phoenix into an overhang at the opening of the cave before he stopped. He reached up to take the child from the woman’s arms, carrying the child inside the cave. A torch glowed in the depths, lighting an interior that was deeper than he’d thought. This cave would hold at least twenty men. How had she found such a thing when he never had, having ridden across this territory all his life?

He set the bows he carried against the wall before setting the child down on what could only be the woman’s bed. It was a pile of rabbit pelts that had been sewn together to create a coverlet that rested atop a pile of feathers and moss to create a downy pillow of warmth and softness. While the girl nestled into the fur, Orrick returned to the cave’s opening to find that the woman had already dismounted. Her face was pale and she swayed on her feet.

Orrick grabbed his saddle bag, then took her arm, leading her into the cave. Once inside, she pulled away and headed to a ledge that looked cut into the side of the rock. There, she withdrew a large bladder and handed it to him. “Bring the girl to the table where we can flush out her wounds with this water before I sew them together. I have a salve to keep them from putrefying and pounded tree bark we can use for bandages.”

He turned to look at the handmade, sturdy table and single chair she pointed to. He did as directed and gathered the child, then laid her across the wooden surface. He pulled back the remains of the girl’s frayed stocking to reveal two deep gashes in her flesh. He could see the bone beneath the top laceration, but it appeared that the bleeding had ceased, meaning her bleeding was from the surface wounds and not something deeper and far more dangerous. “What can I do? How can I help?” he asked.

“Flush the wounds, then go start a fire in the pit near the entrance of the cave. Everything you need is there.”

He did as she asked, and when he returned a short while later, the woman had sewn the open gashes on the child’s leg together in a row of neat and tidy stitches. The child had only cried out a few times. Obviously the woman was an experienced seamstress. Orrick frowned as he watched her spread a thick salve across the child’s leg. Was his first thought about the woman correct? Was she a witch?

“What are you doing?” he asked in an accusatory tone as he stepped beside the girl and bent to smell the salve. “What kind of witchery is this?”

The sweet-smelling salve also had a hint of heather. He touched it and brought the sticky ointment to his lips, tasting it ever so lightly. “Honey?” He turned his gaze to hers.

“Honey has many healing properties.”

He stepped back. “I apologise for jumping to conclusions. You are . . .” He paused, trying to find the right word. Mysterious, intriguing, a little frightening. “A surprise.”

“I have been called worse.” She shrugged and returned to her ministrations. When she finished with the honey, she wrapped the little girl’s leg in a thin bandage of sorts. She’d said she had created it from pounded tree bark. “How did you learn all of this?” He pointed to the bark and the honey.

“Necessity.”

His frown increased. “How long have you been out here?”

She shrugged. “I lost track a long while ago. Now I just watch the seasons change. This is my second winter.”

“Over a year?” Orrick’s gaze centred on her face. “Your clan has not come looking for you?”

She turned away. “I have no family. I have no one.”

The words echoed through the silence of the cave and brought a tightness to Orrick’s throat. He knew what it felt like to be so alone. He’d had that same experience in the West Indies even though he’d been surrounded by others. “You do not need to remain that way. Come back to Dunvegan with me.”

She turned to face him again but instead of pain, fury brightened her blue eyes. “Nay. I can make my own way in this world.”