Page 3 of A Fierce Archer

Moving closer to the bed, she lifted the edge of her apron and wiped her hands. “Three days. Someone cut ye through in the forest, near the border between our land and that of Laird Mackenzie.”

“Who found me?”

Catriona disappeared from sight to be replaced by a man.

“What were ye doing on Mackenzie lands?” Laird Fraser’s face was contorted in rage. “Ye and the rest of the guards know better than to travel into Mackenzie lands.”

Ewan grimaced when he shifted, as even the slightest movement brought discomfort. “I do not recall going to Mackenzie lands.”

“Ye were found by hunters. Ye’re very lucky.”

“I cannot remember.”

Laird Fraser frowned. “Ye separated from the four that went with ye. They said ye ordered them to ride back here without ye.”

Since Ewan had only come to live at Fraser Keep for a little over a season, he was not familiar with where, exactly, the land borders were. In the past when he’d traversed into Mackenzie lands, it was with a plan in mind.

“If I was across the border, perhaps I was following who I thought responsible for the killings.”

“When ye can ride, it may be best for ye to return to yer clan. If the Mackenzies think ye are dead, it may serve to our advantage.”

When Laird Fraser left, the room was eerily silent. Ewan tested his limbs, first one leg, then the other. He wiggled his feet and then flexed his hands. Then he repeated each movement once more, just to be sure and blew out a relieved breath that they moved as he commanded. Although it was painful, he shifted and attempted to sit up. It proved impossible to lift himself up, much too painful, so, he gave up and fell back onto the bed with a loud groan.

Why could he not remember anything? It was as if a fog had fallen over the events of the day he was injured. If he’d seen someone, it was possible whoever it was had attacked the farmers. If only he could see the face.

Sliding his hands down his torso, Ewan discovered his entire midsection was bandaged. He’d been wrapped from lower chest to stomach. The cloths were hard from dried blood. When he pressed gently, inch by inch, he found a long wound, just under his right ribcage. He’d been lucky to have been left for dead and that whoever attacked him had not thrust into him another time.

The back of his head throbbed. Reaching back, he felt a large lump. Whoever had sliced him through had obviously attempted to finish him with a blow to the head.

Indeed, he was damned lucky to be alive.

Keithen Ross, the laird’s son, entered. Wearing a heavy tunic and dark trews, the tall man lowered to a chair and crossed his stretched legs at the booted ankles. “We keep our healer busy,” Keithen said with a chuckle.

“Where is the healer?” Ewan asked. If he could get some of the healer’s tonics, it was possible he would be able to sit up.

“Seeing to an injury. One of our guards fell when lowering from the wall and broke his leg.” Keithen studied him for a moment. “Father tells me ye cannot recall what happened.”

“Tis true, I do not remember anything past speaking about going out to the farm. Yer father has asked that I leave as soon as I recover.” Ewan grimaced as a wave of pain seared across his midsection. “I will leave, but I require a bit more time. I have something to finish.”

“I suspect ye have already accomplished more than we know or suspect,” Keithen said and Ewan felt a cold trickle travel down his spine. The man continued. “What else, or should I say who else is on yer list?”

Both he and Keithen had sought revenge against the same group. Those that Keithen had not felled, Ewan had. Together, they’d killed almost every member that had been on duty when both Lady Fraser and Catriona McKay were taken.

Although Keithen had a more understandable reason, Ewan felt just as justified. If asked why he wished to kill them to the detriment of his own life, Ewan could not justify his actions fully. But he hated any kind of mistreatment. He always had.

On the other hand, no one would question Keithen.

One guard in particular, the one with a red birthmark across his face, was the only one that remained alive. He was the leader, the main one who’d raped and beaten Catriona. The bastard and the group of guards he commanded had mercilessly tortured the defenseless woman.

They’d left a shell of what she’d once been, filled with shame that was not justified.

No, he could not justify his actions, other than to admit that her plight had torn through him. One look at her and his entire soul ached for her. If there was such a thing as the calling of one soul to another, it had certainly happened when he’d first set his gaze on Catriona. That she’d been hurt in such a horrible manner was not something he could allow to go unpunished.

Something about her pulled at him. Although he was not ready to invest too much thought in what exactly he felt for her, it went without question that Catriona was a woman of worth.

“Ye and I have a common enemy. We are united in this. However, ye do not have the same reason I do,” Ewan finally replied.

Keithen studied him for a long moment. “I suppose asking yer reasoning is of no avail?”