Page 22 of Desiring the Highland Laird (Highland Destiny #1)

H amish was laid in the laird’s chamber, which was down the hall from Callum’s.

Evie followed with the strips of cloth in her hands and her stomach in knots.

As soon as they entered, the metallic tang of blood accosted her.

She clenched her jaw to keep from wrinkling her nose.

Dougal was already there, pulling away a bloodied rag and tossing it to the floor.

Callum and Malcolm stood on the other side of the bed.

Callum’s hands were coated in blood. His clothes and face were splattered with it.

He looked fierce and terrifying standing there with his blue eyes blazing as he peered down at his father.

When they entered, she caught his gaze. He had a worried expression on his face and something inside her told her Hamish wasn’t going to make it.

Roslyn poured the hot water into a porcelain basin. She held her hand out for the strips of cloth. Evie handed them over. She dunked first one, then another, turning to hand them to Dougal.

“I ken it looks bad,” Hamish said, his voice a harsh whisper. “Stitch me up, Dougal, and I’ll be fine.”

“’Tis no that easy this time, my lord,” he said. He dabbed at the bloodied area of his abdomen.

Hamish sucked in a sharp breath, clearly in a lot of pain. Callum stepped to her, taking her by the arm and leading her out.

“Come, lass. Ye dinnae want to see this.”

He closed the door behind him and they paused there in the drafty hall. Her pulse pounded. A sharp spurt of fear punched through her.

“What happened, Callum?”

“We rode out to meet them,” he said, his voice low. She tried to ignore the feral look in his eyes as he began to recount the battle. “It was the MacDonalds coming for another fight.”

“Roslyn told me about the long-standing feud between you,” she said.

“Och, Jamie and his devilish ways.” He clenched his fists, clearly vexed by his younger brother. “If he hadna spurned the MacDonald lass, we wouldna be at war.”

“You’re at war?” Roslyn hadn’t made it sound so dire.

“Aye. Though I understand why he did it. She dinnae bear him a child and so he dinnae see fit to stay with her. All of us understood the MacDonalds were more interested in expanding their clan territory and using their handfasting as a way to get more of ours. When he returned the lass to her da, the laird was unforgiving.”

She nodded. Roslyn had already told her as much but now she understood more.

“Da tried to reason with MacDonald, but he wanted to fight again.” He turned away from her, his hands clenched.

“So, you fought,” she said, filling in the blank.

“He took a sword to the gut,” Callum said. He turned back to her then, his face pinched in anguish. “I dinnae expect him to live.”

She pressed cold, shaking fingers to her lips. “Callum, I’m so sorry.”

A muffled groan full of pain came from behind the closed door. Callum started to reach for it, but she grabbed his sleeve and held him back. When his blazing eyes landed on her, she wanted to back down, but she managed to keep her wits about her.

“There’s nothing you can do, Callum. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She started for his bedchamber, tugging him along behind her. He reluctantly followed. At the door, she pushed it open, then stood aside and waited for him to enter. She closed it behind her. He slumped in the chair by the hearth that was devoid of a fire.

When she realized there was no water in the pitcher or the basin, she snatched up the pitcher and then headed for the door.

“I’ll be back,” she said.

“Evie.”

The sound of her name on his tongue stopped her. She halted.

“Ye dinnae have to.”

He looked and sounded so weary. It tugged at her heart. She softened, giving him a smile. “I don’t mind.”

Then she was off and headed to the kitchen, wondering where she would find water for the pitcher. She needn’t have worried. One of the kitchen maids was there and showed her the well outside. She filled the pitcher with cold water and then asked for some clean linens.

“For Callum,” she clarified.

The girl nodded and handed her a small stack of linens. When she returned to his bedchamber, she tried to ignore the wailing moan of pain coming from Hamish’s room. As she paused at the door, Roslyn exited, her eyes misty. Evie’s heart dropped to her shoes.

“Is he…?” She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know.

“Best get Callum, lass. The laird hasna much time.”

A lump formed in her throat as she opened the door to Callum’s bedchamber. “Callum, your father…”

She didn’t have to say anything else as he jumped to his feet and brushed by her, not even looking at her.

He hurried down the hall to his father’s bedchamber and pushed open the door, disappearing inside and leaving Evie standing in the doorway with a pitcher of water and a stack of clean linens.

Roslyn moved to stand next to her, the two of them peering down the hallway at the closed door.

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Evie asked.

“Aye,” the woman said, her voice weak. “And then Callum will be laird.”

A tremor of surprise went through her. It hadn’t occurred to her until Roslyn said so that if Hamish died, Callum would inherit. He would be the laird of Dundale. She gripped the handle of the pitcher so hard, her hand cramped.

Roslyn eyed the items in her hands.

“I was going to help him clean the blood off his hands,” she said by way of explanation.

“Och, yer a good lass. Save it for him, aye? He’ll need it.” She peered inside the room and saw it devoid of a fire. “Come. Let’s warm his bedchamber so it will be ready for him when he returns. I’ll show ye how.”

Evie followed her inside and kicked the door closed with the heel of her foot.

She replaced the pitcher next to the bowl and the linens next to that while Roslyn set about adding logs in the hearth.

Evie kneeled to help her. They worked in silence until the fire was built and the peat took off.

Then Roslyn sat back on her heels, brushing the dirt from her hands. There was a sorrow in her aged face.

“I dinnae ken how the lads will fare with their da gone,” she said, as though speaking to herself.

“They’ve lost so much. Their mam, their sister.

” Tears watered her eyes. Then she pulled herself together, taking a deep breath as she rose.

“I best see to the kitchens.” She glanced down at her, question in her eyes.

“I’m going to stay here and wait for him.” It was a snap decision.

She nodded understanding and then was gone.

*

Callum shoved inside the room, closing the door behind him.

The heavy odor of blood and death hung in the air and he knew his da’s time was upon him.

He didn’t want to see his da die, but he also understood there was nothing to be done for him.

Dougal gave him a nod, acknowledging him, as he passed and exited into the hallway.

Malcolm stood on the other side of the bed, his face somber.

“Callum. Come here, lad.”

Callum moved to the side of the bed as his da reached a blood-stained hand out to him. He grasped him by the wrist, pulling him down closer.

“Ye must tell me ye believe in the prophecy,” he said.

“Da—”

“Tell me. I need to hear it before I pass.”

“Nay. Yer going to live.”

He emitted a watery laugh that descended into a cough. His other hand was across his middle where his tunic was soaked through with blood. “Promise me.”

Callum lifted his gaze to Malcolm, but his brother’s face remained impassive with a perfect stony expression. He was the same way when their mam died. He never did show his emotions.

Hamish tightened his hand on his wrist. “Ye must believe. ’Tis up to ye now, lad, to find the other two pieces of the keystone and protect it with yer life.”

Callum felt there was nothing to do but agree. “Aye, Da. Ye have my promise.”

“And the lassie. Promise me ye will take good care of her.”

A flush of heat went through him. “Evie?”

“Aye.”

“Of course, Da. She’s safe here at Dundale.”

His hand tightened again on his wrist, tugging him closer. Callum leaned down and heard his raspy breathing and knew it wasn’t long now before death would take him. “The MacDonald.” His voice was a rough whisper.

“He will pay for his attack,” Callum said, a vehement declaration. “He and his clan.”

“There is something else I dinnae tell ye about the Shattering. There was…” He paused to catch his breath, cough. “There was someone else who wanted the stone. Someone who would kill for it.”

A sense of horror passed through him. Callum’s brows drew together as he waited. “Who, Da?”

Hamish shook his head, the effort nearly too much for him.

“Before he sliced me in half…” He paused to catch his breath, changing the subject as if he had to get it all out before it was too late.

“He said to me…he kens of the keystone. He kens we have it. And he wants it back.” He released his wrist. “Do ye believe now, lad?”

Blood drained from his head as he stared down at his da, making him lightheaded.

He recalled Evie telling him the man chasing her before she swiped her thumb over the stone and fell through time was named MacDonald.

Could it be true? Had they found a way into the past, or was there another explanation?

After a long pause, Callum nodded slowly. “Aye. I believe, Da.”

“Good. Protect it. Protect her.”

Those were his last words as Hamish’s eyes closed and his hand released his wrist, dropping to the bed. The breath went out of him and then he was gone.