Laird of Lies (His Highland Heart #4)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

M ariota leapt from her horse once she and her escort crossed under Dunrobin’s gate. “Ian!” She called for the hawk master as she ran for the mews, certain the stable lads would care for her horse. She needed to find Valkyrie. The hawk master came to the open door of the mews just as she reached it. “Is Valkyrie within?” Her heart was thundering so loudly, she was certain the man could hear it.

He gave her a nod and gestured for her to enter as he stepped out of the way. “She’s here, lass, and she’s well,” he told her, while wiping his hands on a cloth. On it, streaks of blood mixed with water varied from red to pink. “She lost a claw somewhere, but other than that, she’s unhurt. What happened?”

Mariota ran to Valkyrie’s perch. The hawk sat there calmly, watching her mistress approach. “Ach, my poor wee eyas . I’m so sorry ye were harmed.” She studied the wrapping Ian had put on her foot. “Will she be well?”

“Aye. She will. Ye needna fash , lass.” He gave her a smile. “Ye sent her, then?”

“We were attacked.” She told him about the arrow that did the damage he’d repaired. “Stellan and two of his men stayed behind to search for the shooter.”

“Stellan? I just saw him an hour ago.”

Mariota wanted to kick herself. She should not have said anything. “I mean Anders.”

He shook his head. “Nay, ye didna. So the lads are up to their old tricks.” He chuckled for a moment, then frowned. “The laird willna be happy.”

“I willna tell him. Will ye?”

“Nay, but the lads will. And they’ll bear whatever punishment he deems suitable. They may be too clever for their own good, but they’re honorable lads.”

Mariota thought back over all Stellan had done for her since she’d stumbled into his camp. Honorable, indeed. Anders, too, in his own, more playful way. But it was Stellan she cared about. Stellan she loved.

Where was he?

“Ye look as though ye had best go inside,” Ian told her. “Get some food and have a rest. The lads will be along soon.”

“I’m sure ye have the right of it,” Mariota told him with a smile. “How can I ever thank ye for taking such good care of Valkyrie?”

“Naught needed, lass. Yer hawk and I are old friends, now, are we no’, lassie?” He said, turning to her hawk. “I’ll see her fed and will fetch the healer if she shows signs of being in pain. Go get some rest, lass.”

Mariota nodded, and on impulse, reached forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank ye,” she said again and headed out into the bailey. The lads were still dealing with the horses, so Mariota grabbed her pack from hers and thanked the stable lad for his care of her mount, then went inside. Ian had given her good advice. She tossed her pack onto the nearest bench and sat beside it, waiting patiently until a serving lass brought her something to eat and asked, “Would ye like ale or cider?”

“Cider, please, and some bread to go with Cook’s wonderful stew, if ye please,” Mariota told her.

“Are ye well, milady? Is there anything else ye need?”

Mariota realized she must look worse than she knew. “Just tired, thank ye. I’ll be fine after I eat.”

“I’ll hurry back to ye, then,” the lass said and rushed away.

People at Sutherland were so nice to her, it brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away. She must be more tired, more shaken by Alber’s attack, than she’d realized. The scent of the stew, when it arrived, made her mouth water. She reached first for the cup of cider and downed it, then tore of a chunk of bread and dunked it in the stew. She’d taken only a bite or two when her benefactor returned with a pitcher and replenished her cider. “I thought ye might need more than one cup,” the lass told her.

“Ye are wise beyond yer years,” Mariota said with a tired smile. “I’m Mariota. What’s yer name?”

“I’m Anna,” the lass told her.

“Pleased to meet ye,” Mariota told her, stopping with stew-soaked bread in her fingers long enough to speak.

“I’ll leave ye to eat in peace. Tell me if ye need aught.”

“Thank ye, Anna,” Mariota said, once again grateful for the treatment she received here, so different from how she was regarded at home. Nay, at MacKay . This was now her home. That made her smile again, and she dug into her meal.

She finished and started to wonder how long she’d been sitting here. Was Stellan back? Surely she would have seen him enter the great hall, probably to report to his da in the laird’s solar. And he would have seen her and come to her. But the hall bustled with people coming and going, none of whom were Stellan or Anders. Where were the twins?

Anders sometimes had an uncanny sense of what his brother was doing. She could use his reassurance right now. But first, she’d take her things upstairs, come back and ask if anyone had seen either of them.

In her chamber, her bed— and Ian’s advice to rest —called to her, but she left her pack and went back downstairs. Anna, the first person she approached, knew nothing, nor did the healer when she ventured back to the herbal.

“Check with the lads in the stable. They ken everything,” the healer advised.

Mariota had to laugh. “Of course. Stellan would leave his horse there when he arrived. If he was back, they’d know, and might know where he’d gone. She could follow her instincts to the laird’s solar, but she feared interrupting their da at work, and worse, winding up explaining why one of his sons was missing— assuming she could keep from him which son it was. Nay, she’d rather not betray Stellan and Anders’ duplicity. Ian said they’d confess to their da, so she must keep silent.

She was in the stable when thunderous hoofbeats shook the ground and made her run for the entrance. So many horses galloped through the keep’s gates, she couldn’t count them all for the dust they kicked up. But one caught her eye and stopped her heart. Anders, holding his bloody twin slumped before him, rode at the fore. Or was it Stellan holding Anders? And why were they together when Anders had been left behind in Dunrobin?

She knew better than to rush out into the bailey in the middle of the melee, so she gripped the stable’s doorframe and waited until all the riders had their beasts under control, then ran to the twins. “Stellan?”

“Hurt, but he’ll be right once the healer sees to him,” Anders told her, confirming her worst fear.

“Dear God, what happened?”

“Alber ambushed him, and they fought,” Anders told her as he beckoned several men over to help him get his brother down. They carried him inside.

Mariota watched them go, her feet sliding side-to-side in her anxiety to follow them. But Anders was still talking.

“He— I kenned something was wrong and rode out with some men. We found him just as he killed Alber.” Anders dismounted and handed his reins to a lad. “Ye needna fear him ever again.”

“Stellan killed him?” Unconsciously, her hand covered her mouth. “I must go to him.”

“Let the healer see to him, lass.”

Mariota ignored him and ran for the herbal. Anders called her name, but she kept going. In a moment, she felt him following on her heels.

Several people filled the herbal, watching the healer work on Stellan’s wounds. One arrowhead was already out of his arm and the wound packed with healing herbs. The healer frowned as she cut around the one in his shoulder. Mariota held her breath until she pried it out, examined it for broken edges, probed the wound and removed one small bit before letting it bleed freely for a moment to ensure it was free of debris, then packed that wound as well.

That Stellan’s father was already there and watching the healer cut his son surprised her. One of the men who carried Stellan in must have fetched him, and now several waited against one wall in case they were needed again. Mariota and Anders crowded along the wall next to them, across from the laird.

“His other wounds are no’ deep,” the healer announced a while later as she finished cleaning the last one. She turned to the laird. “I’ll pack and wrap them and watch to make certain they dinna fester. When he wakes up, he’ll be given cider and ale to drink. He lost a lot of blood, so liquids will help him recover faster than aught else.”

“How long?” Sutherland’s face and voice held concern.

“I canna say, laird. I’ll watch over him.”

“I’ll help,” Mariota said, the words out before the thought formed in her mind. She couldn’t bear the thought of Stellan waking up alone, in pain. She would help the healer so that he had someone with him all day and all night.

“So there,” the healer said, smiled at Mariota, and turned back to the laird. “He’ll be well cared for.”

“I dinna think ’tis appropriate for a lass?—”

“Of course it is,” the healer argued. “Who do ye think helps me with most of ye brave lads when ye come in dripping blood?”

Stellan groaned and turned his head from side to side. Anders hurried to him and placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Fight’s over, brother. Ye won.”

Stellan calmed, then croaked out, “Mari…”

“I’m here, Stellan. I’m safe. So are ye.”

The healer approached with a cup. “I want ye to drink all of this, lad,” she said and nodded for Anders to lift his head, then held the cup to his lips. Stellan managed to swallow most of it, sighed and passed out again.

Mariota made a sound of protest, terrified he wouldn’t recover, but the healer held up a hand.

“Have faith, lass. I put something to help him sleep in that draught.”

Anders put a hand on her shoulder. “Remember how ye said our healer is formidable? Trust her.”

Mariota nodded, mostly because she knew that’s what Anders expected, and she didn’t want to hurt the healer’s feelings. But she worried for Stellan. He looked so wan, so less than himself, lying there. Despite knowing his father would see, she put a hand on his cheek. “Sleep well,” she told him, then looked to the healer. “What do ye need me to do?”

“At the moment? Go rest. Ye look as knackered as he does,” she said and nodded toward her patient. Come to me after ye have slept a few hours and we’ll talk.”

Anders took her arm and escorted her to her chamber. “Dinna fash , Mariota. Now that he’s home, I’m confident he’ll be better soon. Ye should be, too.”

Tears she’d fought to contain since she’d seen Anders ride in with Stellan in his arms finally wet her eyes and trickled down her face. “I’ll try,” she told him as he pulled her into his embrace. So like Stellan’s, and yet… not.

“Ye need sleep. Go rest. I’ll keep an eye on him until ye come back down.”

“Thank ye, Anders.” She stepped out of his embrace and into her chamber. She closed her door and stretched out on her bed, heedless of the state of her traveling clothes or anything else, save that she’d thanked more people since she arrived at Sutherland than she had at MacKay in months. She’d be grateful to be able to thank the healer for saving Stellan, for bringing him through his recovery and back to her. And she’d do everything she could to help him. With him, her life was going to be so much better. She loved him, and he loved her. If Alber had stolen that from her, she’d curse his name and wish she could kill him all over again. She didn’t miss MacKay or the loss of the lairdship. Those things were in her past. Stellan was her future. Sutherland was her future. And as soon as Stellan was healed, she had so much to tell him. So much to thank him for. He must get better soon.

Stellan came awake to pain everywhere, but the worst seemed to be in his arm and shoulder. Then he remembered. Alber’s arrows caught him there. He opened his eyes, not certain where he was or what he’d see. Alber standing over him about to thrust his great sword through Stellan’s chest?

Nay, something much more reassuring. Anders, leaning over him, smiling.

“’Tis about time ye came back to us,” Anders told him. He reached aside, then offered a cup. “I’ll lift yer head so ye can swallow this. Ye’ll feel better once ye do.”

“No more sleep,” Stellan protested. “Mariota.”

“She’s in her chamber, resting. Ye are stuck with me for now. Ye’ve been here four days and the lass has barely left yer side. The healer is going to steal Mariota from ye and train her as her replacement unless ye get better soon.”

“If she wishes to, aye, but Mariota is mine.”

“Aye, she’s made that clear to anyone who will stand still long enough to listen. Ye gave her a scare, brother. All of us, too. For most of the first day, we werena certain ye would make it. But ye are strong. And Mariota and I wouldna let ye go.”

“Good.”

“Yer lass was making herself sick worrying over ye. She loves ye, brother. Never doubt it.”

“I ken it.”

“Then heal and marry the lass. She doesna love me. Never has, betrothal agreement be damned. I’m no fit substitute for ye.”

“And don’t ye forget it,” Stellan told him, summoning a smile.

“Oh, and by the way,” Anders said, “we’re both in trouble with Da.”

Stellan tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. He’d know from the moment they concocted this crazy scheme, switching places with each other, that in the end, they’d have to confess to their father and he’d probably flay their hides. Instead, Stellan asked, “How did ye show up in time? I remember seeing ye right after I killed Alber. Or I think I did. Were ye there?”

“I was. I felt ye were in trouble long before Mariota got to Dunrobin. I rode out with some guards. Our connection led me to ye.”

“Ye felt I was in trouble?”

“Aye. That may be the longest reach of our connection so far.”

“I thought it was gone. Grown out of it. But I was desperate. Thought I was about to die. Needed ye to ken. To look after Mariota.”

“And be laird in yer stead. Ye ken I never intended to do that by myself. Ye swore an oath with me.”

“Kenned ye’d be angry.”

Anders snorted. “Ye were right about that. What made ye charge off by yerself?”

“Chasing Mariota and the men. Two of mine following Alber. Too slow, I guess.”

“Aye. They were shocked when they arrived home to hear what had happened. Likely ye’ll see them before long. They’re eager to apologize. To see that ye are getting better.”

“Me, too.” He fought to clear his throat.

“Thirsty?”

“Aye.”

Anders picked up another cup, lifted his head and held him so he could drink. When he finished, Anders told him, “That one has some sleeping potion in it.” At Stellan’s frown, he said, “Dinna blame me. The healer wants ye to rest, so sleep well, brother.”

Stellan barely heard the last word before the dark crowded in. He took a breath and let it cover him.

Mariota’s favorite pastime had become watching Stellan’s chest rise and fall with his breathing as he slept. Over the last few days, each breath had gotten deeper and lasted longer, a sure sign, the healer told her, that he was healing and very soon would be well enough to use those breaths to start complaining.

Mariota hoped so. She couldn’t recall hearing Stellan actually complain about anything, unless it was her father’s treatment of her. Or his failure to deal with Alber. Stellan deserved to complain about that, certainly. If she could speak to her da, she’d not speak, she’d yell and scream and point fingers until he understood what his inaction had led to. The man she loved lying here, breathing.

At least Stellan was breathing. The fight with Alber could have gone so much worse. His arrows had wounded Stellan, but they could have killed him. It seemed Alber was a much better shot than she’d given him credit for. He’d missed Valkyrie twice— if she didn’t count her missing claw —and he’d missed her, too, all on purpose, she now suspected. Stellan lived because Alber wanted to fight him, not because Alber’s killing shots didn’t land where he intended.

Suddenly, Stellan groaned and opened his eyes.

“Stellan, how do ye feel?” She reached for the cup of cider the healer had left for him, first in a line of them. She was to ensure he drank every one by the time the healer came back from her rest.

“Better,” he said and rolled to his side on his good arm. “More sleeping draught?”

“Nay, just cider in this cup. Ale in the next. I’m to send for some warm broth and start ye on yer way back to eating.”

“So no sleeping draught.”

She started to hand him the cup, thought better of it and set it aside. “Do ye want to sit up?”

He thought for a moment, pushed up on his good arm and swung his legs off the bed. The sheet moved with him, keeping him covered, and he straightened to sitting. And wobbled.

Mariota put her arms around him to steady him. Despite his enforced inactivity, his muscles bulged under her hands and his skin was taut and warm. Not hot, thank God. He felt big and solid in her arms. A man she could count on to protect her when she needed it, and care for her when she needed that, too.

He rested his head on her shoulder, bringing tears to her eyes. “I thought I was going to lose ye,” she told him as she rubbed his back, careful of the wrappings around his torso holding the healer’s salves against his wounds. “Anders said ye were too mean to die. I prayed he was right.”

“He was. He is,” Stellan said against her neck, then lifted his head. “Cider?”

She reached for the cup and put it in the hand he held out, her gaze flicking to his broad chest and etched muscles of his abdomen. He was so much more imposing upright than he had been, lying unconscious, while she watched over him.

She wanted to trace every curve and ripple of muscle she could see. To brush her fingers over his nipples and see if they reacted to her touch as hers did when he had kissed and held her. To pull the sheet askew and admire every inch of his body. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her middle and turned away from the temptation he presented.

“What were ye thinking, fighting Alber alone?” She asked while he drank.

He emptied the cup and handed it back to her. “He ambushed me. I didna have a choice.”

“Where were yer men? They should have been with ye.”

“Hunting him. My orders. Too bad he found me, instead.”

Mariota nodded, at a loss for what to say to that.

“But he’s gone now,” Stellan continued and took the next cup she offered. “At least I think I remember finishing him.” He drank.

“Ye did. Anders was there in time to see the end of the fight. Damn my father for no’ dealing with him as he should have long ago.”

Stellan set the empty aside and cupped her face. “If he had, we never would have met, or not until ye were wed to my brother.”

She shuddered. “I dinna want to imagine that. I like Anders as a brother, but ye are the man I love. Ye must hurry and get well so we can marry.” She paused, not knowing whether she should tell him of the missive she’d recently received, but Stellan needed to know. “Else, Seamus may send for me.”

“Back to MacKay? Nay!”

“Word has come that Mar has taken Dingwall, claiming Ross. Yer da kens. Seamus worries Domnhall will come at Mar via MacKay.” Should she have stayed? For a moment, she allowed herself to feel torn. But nay. She belonged here now. “Seamus can handle whatever happens. I will never leave ye.”