Page 32 of Highlander’s Lesser Evil

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Encouraged by the sight of Gemma beneath the enemy’s sword, Theo fought harder than ever, and the battle was over before midnight. There were nearly fifty dead mercenaries, defeated by a regime half their size. When he looked over the field of corpses, he was pleased to see that he’d lost none.

There was possibly one enemy who had survived. Looking over the field, Theo caught Graeme’s gaze. The man had saved Gemma’s life and fought alongside the MacDougals, slaying as many mercenaries as his men.

Slowly, Graeme walked toward him, and Theo tightened his grip on his sword. “Ye are injured,” Graeme observed. If he had wanted his shot at Theo, now would be an excellent time as the laird was wounded and tired.

Blood was still running down Theo’s shoulder, but Graeme was limping. In fact, most of his men were injured. If he decided to raise his sword, it would at least be a fair fight.

“As are ye. I owe ye a debt for saving Gemma’s life,” he said carefully as the two continued to gauge each other. His body still trembled at how he’d nearly lost his wife. At first, he couldn’t believe that she was there on the battlefield, but then he saw little David.

For a horrifying second, he knew he would not get there in time to save her.

“Someday, I will collect,” Graeme grinned, and sheathed his sword. After a moment of hesitation, Theo followed suit. If Graeme had wanted him dead, he could have done it before the smoke had cleared.

There was movement just past Graeme’s shoulder, and Theo watched as the villagers arrived. They began to systematically put out the fires and drag the dead to the pile. With an ache in his chest, he realized they were used to doing this—cleaning up after a battle.

“Laird, we have set up a cottage to tend to the wounded in the village. We can take care of this,” Agnes said as she looked at his shoulder in concern.

His wound was the least of his concerns at the moment. Unknowns had invaded his land. The thought of an enemy hiding behind mercenaries made his blood boil.

“I want to search the bodies. They wear no colors, so I need to know who hired them. If there are any survivors, save them.”

He would get answers at any cost.

After an exhausting couple of hours, there were only a handful of survivors, and they didn’t live long enough to talk. Systematically, he and Thomas searched the dead, but these were well-trained mercenaries, loyal to whoever had paid them. There was no trace. Tomorrow, Theo would sent out messages to the neighboring clans to try and track their path.

By the time he’d reached the cottage designated for the wounded, the sun was coming up, and the place was nearly empty. Three women, including Jillian and Gemma, were cleaning up. At the sound of his boots hitting the floor, Gemma’s head jerked up, and relief flooded her face.

“So, you are still alive then,” she said curtly.

She was angry with him. At the moment, he didn’t care. She’d run full force into a battle with no weapon and no thought to her own safety. The fact that she was alive to be angry was a wonder.

“Aye. Lasses, go home and get some rest.”

They looked at Gemma, and it should have angered him to see them looking to her for orders, but it gave him some pride to know that he had married a woman with enough strength and character to be a leader. She nodded, and they left with a few murmurs of thanks to him for protecting them.

“There is blood on your shirt. Is it yours?” Gemma asked.

“Some.” Sitting in the chair by her, he slowly eased off his shirt. The blood had dried, so the fabric clung to the wound. When he ripped it off, Gemma winced, but he did not react to the pain. He’d learned long ago to deal with pain.

“Easy. There is no reason to restart the bleeding.” With a wet cloth, she started cleaning the wound, gently removing the dried blood. Stilling, he closed his eyes at her ministrations. When was the last time someone had taken the time to take care of him?

“Do you know who attacked us?”

“Nay. They are mercenaries, loyal only until the money runs out. ‘Tis a clever tactic for the dishonorable, but I will find them.”

“Any of your men killed?”

“Nay. They have trained for this. I have scouts in the lands beyond the border for this very reason. So we werenae caught unawares.” He turned his head to study her. Her face was pale, and her eyes filled with exhaustion. “If I ever catch ye on the battlefield again, for any reason, ye will see the extent of my temper, Wife.”

“Then I suppose I will just have to see your temper because I cannot promise that it won’t happen again.” Nonplussed, she started dabbing again, but he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her into his lap.

“I couldnae get to ye in time,” he rasped. “Do ye have any idea what it was like for me to nearly see ye die?”

“Probably about the same as it was for me to stand here, treating warrior after warrior and wondering if you were still alive,” she said as she settled her hands on his chest.

As usual, his erection stirred, and he couldn’t help but lean over her and breathe in her scent. He still reeked of smoke and sweat and blood, but she was so soft and feminine. “Let me hold ye, lass,” he murmured as he circled his arms around her. “And kiss ye so I know that ye are alive.”