Page 18 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

Alasdair stood at the very edge of the tower wall, one hand resting on the cold stone as the afternoon wind tugged at his shirt. From this height, he could see everything.

He could see the darkened skies at the edge of the horizon, the full length of the courtyard, the dark trail that led to the forest outside the castle, and the hall that held a shrinking number of wounded soldiers.

His eyes, however, found and settled on only one thing.

Lily.

She moved in and out of the hall in a steady rhythm, her skirts gathered in one hand and a basket of herbs clutched in the other. Her hair was half undone, and stray strands clung to her face as she shouted for water, bandages, or for the maids to lift or turn over a patient.

He could almost hear her voice from the tower. It was sharp, commanding, and hard as steel. He didn’t know if she realized how every soul obeyed her without hesitation.

Two men stumbled out of the hall, carrying a soldier between them.

The lad looked practically dead because his body was limp and his skin was almost grey.

His lips had turned an unnerving shade of blue, and even from this distance, Alasdair’s gut twisted.

The men laid him on the ground, and for a moment, the courtyard seemed to go still.

Alasdair’s fingers dug even harder into the stone.

The poor bastard’s gone.

There was nothing Lily could do. Nothing any of them could do.

Then, Lily came running again, her skirts hiked up, her eyes fierce.

She dropped to her knees beside the man, calling orders Alasdair couldn’t hear.

Without hesitation, she straddled the man’s chest and began to press her hands over his ribs and push hard.

Alasdair watched her do it over and over, her small frame driving all the strength she could muster into the soldier’s body.

“Me Laird?”

The voice behind him shocked him for some reason, and he realized at that moment that he’d been in a trance. He turned slowly and came face to face with the owner of the voice.

“Ye’ll stare a hole clean through the ground if ye keep staring like that.”

Alasdair frowned but said nothing in response.

Finn stood a few paces away, casual as always, his broad shoulders leaning against the wall. There was a sly smile on his face, the kind Alasdair had grown used to over the years.

“Are ye well?” Finn asked, studying him.

Alasdair gave a short nod. “Aye.” His gaze returned to the courtyard before he even finished.

Finn followed it and gave a low chuckle. “Thought as much.” He folded his arms and leaned forward. “So, what is she doin’?”

Alasdair gestured toward the scene below. “She is tryin’ to drag air back into that man’s lungs. I mean, look at him. He is bluer than the ocean. Surely she doesnae think he can be saved, does she?”

Finn scoffed. “Well, there is a reason she’s down there, Alasdair, and ye’re up here watching.”

Alasdair shot him a look, but Finn only grinned, unbothered.

They both watched in silence for a moment as Lily’s body rose and fell steadily while she continued to press hard against the man’s chest.

Suddenly, Finn tilted his head, evidently meaning to change the subject. “So. How’s it goin’? Between ye two, I mean. I could have cut the tension with a blade at the council meeting.”

Alasdair exhaled through his nose. “She was angry. I didnae tell her about the cèilidh. She found out from the elders.”

Finn’s eyebrow rose. “And why did ye nae tell her?”

“I meant to. But now she believes I didnae tell her so I can catch her off guard at the last minute.”

“Aye.” Finn smirked. “I mean, everyone kent for days. If she thinks ye meant to spring it on her at the last moment to keep her here, can ye blame her?”

Alasdair scowled at him. “Perhaps. But she really needs to stop paintin’ me as the villain in every matter. Every step I’ve taken so far has been for her good.”

Finn arched an eyebrow. “For her good? Or for yers?”

Alasdair ignored the jab and instead pointed downward with frustration. “Did ye ken that all the dresses she’s worn since she came here are the ones I told the seamstress to take back?”

Finn narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

“They are the plainest, ugliest rags of the lot. And that brown frock she’s wearing—God! I swore I’d never have to look at it again.”

Finn’s lips quirked. “Does she ken this?”

“Aye, she does.”

Finn chuckled. “Then why does she wear them?”

Alasdair shot him a flat look. “To vex me, of course. To say that she willnae be ordered around by me.”

Finn laughed, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll tell ye this much. Only Lily could make a dress that dreadful look wonderful on her. She’d shame half the court in Scotland with nothing but that and a bit of ribbon.”

Alasdair growled low in his throat. “Careful, Finn.”

His friend lifted his hands. “Peace. I meant nay harm. Good Lord, man, ye’re fierce when it comes to her.”

Alasdair turned back to the courtyard, his jaw tight. Lily’s face was set in fierce determination, her hair plastered to her skin, her hands pressing down over and over.

“I wish she’d lower her guard. She enjoys being here. Any fool can see it,” he said quietly.

“She enjoys being a healer. That isnae the same as enjoying being yer wife. If ye want her to stay, ye have work to do.”

Alasdair’s grip tightened on the stone, but Finn continued anyway.

“Have ye forgotten? We left her in the middle of the night ten years ago, with nay word and nay explanation. Ye vanished on the night of yer handfasting.”

Alasdair’s throat worked. “Ye ken well why I couldnae write.”

“Aye,” Finn said, his voice softer now. “I ken. And I believe it was the most honorable thing ye’ve done. But she doesnae ken that. To her, ye left without a goodbye. If ye think she’ll forgive that easily, ye daenae ken the woman ye married.”

Alasdair didn’t answer. He only stared harder at Lily, regret crawling through his chest.

Suddenly, a violent cough pierced the air below them. Alasdair and Finn jerked forward at the same time and watched as the soldier below gasped for breath. The sickly blue had drained from his face, and a brighter color had returned.

Alasdair’s eyes widened. “Good God. He was gone. Ye saw it, did ye nae? The man was dead.”

Finn smiled faintly. “And now he’s back. Like I said, there’s a reason she’s down there, and it’s nae ye.”

Alasdair watched, mesmerized, as the man was pulled up by two other men and carried back into the hall.

Finn’s voice cut through the air. “If ye want her to stay, Alasdair, ye must tell her the story. The full story.”

Alasdair ground his teeth and turned to face him. “It may be more than she can stomach.”

“Then pray she’s strong enough,” Finn said, his eyes narrowing. Then, he frowned. “What is she doing?”

Alasdair looked back down.

Lily was no longer with the wounded. Instead, she was moving along the edge of the courtyard, her eyes sharp and narrowed. It was like she was making sure no one watched her leave. In the next instant, she slipped through the gate and into the forest.

Alasdair’s heart sank.

“Christ,” he breathed, his voice raw. “She’s running. She’s running again.”

Finn’s head whipped toward him. “Alasdair?—”

But he was already gone, pushing off the wall and tearing down the tower steps, every muscle burning with urgency.

She wasn’t doing this. Not again.

Lily pressed down hard on the soldier’s chest. Her palms ached with the effort, but she would not stop. She counted the rhythm in her head and kept pushing.

His lips were blue, and his chest did not rise. They were all signs. Signs that she needed to stop. That she needed to leave him alone and just declare him dead.

The two men who had helped her carry him outside stood by the hall’s entrance and watched her with interest. Even Daisy kneeled beside her on the grass as she pressed harder, feeling the soldiers’ cracked ribs beneath her palm.

Daisy’s voice broke through the silence. “Me Lady… maybe it is over. He doesnae look like he is breathing anymore. He is gone.”

Lily shook her head frantically, panting hard. “Nay, he isnae gone. I can feel it.”

“Me Lady?—”

“Ye daenae understand, Daisy. I ken when someone is beyond saving. And I ken this soldier still has life in him. I am never wrong about this,” Lily insisted.

She wasn’t sure who she was reassuring, Daisy or herself.

The young maid wrung her hands. “Look at him, me Lady. His skin is turning more blue; there is nothing left to do. Please, ye must stop before ye break his ribs any further.”

Lily pressed down harder, sweat rolling down her temple. “I said nay, Daisy. I willnae give up on him. Nae now.”

“He looks as if the ocean itself has swallowed him,” Daisy whispered, her voice trembling.

Lily ignored her and pushed again. Then again. And again.

On the next push, the soldier jerked under her hands. His mouth fell open, and he sucked in a jagged breath. His chest rose once, then he shook with a violent cough. His hands twitched weakly by his sides as she grabbed onto him, feeling the relief settle in her spine.

“Good lad,” she called, her voice soft. “Breathe. It is fine. Ye are fine.”

The maids nearby gasped, and the tension in the hall broke. She could even hear some people whispering prayers of thanks.

She beckoned the two men over. “Help me. Lift him carefully. Slowly now.”

They obeyed at once, and Lily followed right behind as they carried him back into the hall. The smell of herbs and sweat was thick in the air. When he was laid on his cot, Lily bent down to his ear.

“Ye gave us all a fright, lad,” she said gently. “For a moment, we thought ye were gone. Daenae do that to us again.”

The soldier coughed weakly, then his eyes fluttered open.

Lily turned around. “Sorcha, please fetch tormentil root. It will clear his chest.”

Sorcha froze, and her eyes lowered. “We have none left, me Lady. The last was used at dawn.”

Lily’s heart sank. “None? Are ye certain?”

Sorcha nodded. “None. But daenae worry, the roots grow just beyond the gates, by the edge of the forest. I can send a maid to fetch some.”

Lily shook her head. “Nay. The maids wouldnae ken which one to pull. A mistake could kill him.”

“Then I will go,” Sorcha declared firmly, reaching for her cloak.

Again, Lily stopped her. “Nay, the people need ye here. Ye cannae leave them. I can fetch it meself. I ken the root.”

Sorcha frowned. “Are ye sure, me Lady? The sky is darkening, and ye shouldnae walk through the woods alone. Let someone go with ye, at least.”

“They are needed here more,” Lily said. “Besides, ye said it grows beyond the gates. I willnae stray far.”

The hall fell silent, except for the occasional groan. Sorcha’s lips pressed together as if she wanted to argue, but at last she nodded.

Lily cast a last look at the soldier, then at Daisy, who seemed pale and shaken. “Watch him until I return.”

“Aye, me Lady,” Daisy whispered.

Lily stepped out of the hall, and the doors closed behind her. The air outside was cool against her hot skin, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and looked up at the sky. The clouds were heavy as usual, but she paid them no mind.

Her steps echoed across the pathway as she moved to the gates. She paused once and looked back at the hall, hoping that she didn’t forget anything. When she was certain she could keep moving, she pushed forward.

Her eyes remained peeled on the path as she passed through the gates. The forest opened before her, and the smell of damp earth and pine filled her nostrils. The trees stretched tall before her, and she walked between them, clutching her basket tightly.

Hopefully, she would find the root she was looking for quickly.

Her skirts brushed against undergrowth, and she knelt once to touch a patch of pale flowers, but they were not what she was looking for. She rose again and kept walking.

The forest was rich; that much was evident. Flowers bloomed in every corner, and mushrooms clung to fallen logs. She could see a few plants with similar features and bent to them, her fingers brushing the leaves. The roots of the plants gave off a bitter smell, but it was wrong. Not tormentil.

She sighed and moved on, her eyes scanning the ground. Her steps settled into a rhythm, and for a brief moment, she forgot the council, forgot Alasdair’s sharp gaze, forgot the weight in her chest.

Here she was, only a healer, searching the earth for what could save a life.

She crouched by the roots of a great oak. The ground was damp. Her fingers brushed a cluster of small leaves hugging the base. She leaned down, sniffed, and felt her lips curve.

Bitter, earthy, sharp. She had found it.

Her relief lasted only a heartbeat. A rustle in the woods told her she was no longer alone.

Lily froze, her heart leaping in her chest. She slowly rose to her feet, her eyes darting between the trees. The calm of the forest broke at once, and the air grew thick.

“Who is there?” she called, her voice firm, though her hand trembled at her side.

She wasn’t just uncomfortable now. She was terrified .