Page 23 of Highlander’s Captive Bride (Troubles of Highland Lasses #4)
23
A fter Bellamy had left her, Daisy had hurried to fetch what she needed for Poppy and returned to Elodie’s room. To her relief, she found Poppy in her usual place, still pale but watching over the sleeping child as closely as ever. However, she noticed that several towels had been placed over the pool of blood on the floor and an attempt had been made to clean it up.
“Here,” Daisy said, rushing over to the faithful servant, who looked up, her expression anxious. “Drink this. It should ease the pain in yer shoulder. It will be sore for some days, but ’tis all clean and should heal nicely.” She placed a jug of the fortified wine on the nightstand within easy reach. “This will bring back some of yer strength after losing so much blood. Take a glass whenever ye feel like it.”
“Thank ye, Daisy,” Poppy said gratefully, taking the cup Daisy offered her and downing the concoction. “But why were the bells ringing? Are we being attacked?” she asked, looking up, her face creased with worry as she put the cup aside.
Daisy suddenly realized Poppy knew nothing of the planned ambush. “Aye, we are,” she told her.
“But who is it? Why would anyone want to attack us? I dinnae understand,” Poppy asked, clearly confused.
“’Tis Nadia’s braither, Lachlan. Nadia confessed to the Laird that he was planning an ambush tonight. But thankfully, the Laird and his men have been able to prepare for it.”
Poppy appeared stunned by the information. “Nadia’s braither? But all of her family are dead, are they nae? Did the Laird nae kill him years ago, along with his evil faither and the rest of the McGowans? I remember it well because I was just a bairn, and it was just after that when he brought Nadia to live with us.”
“That’s right, I believe, but it seems her braither wasnae dead, after all. I dinnae ken all the ins and outs of it, but it seems the man had been lying low all this time, gathering his forces and plotting to harm the Laird and Elodie, too, to get revenge for what the Laird did to his family and his clan, I suppose. Nadia said it was him who got her to poison Elodie, and now he’s attacking the castle.”
Daisy told Poppy as much as she could without giving away Bellamy’s secret about Elodie’s parentage.
Poppy seemed furious with Nadia and angry at her brother’s attack. While Daisy went about cleaning up the mess of bloody towels and mopping the floor, she railed at them in a low voice.
“’Tis a good thing ye’re here, then,” Poppy said finally. “Have any of the other healers come in from the villages yet? Ye’ll need someone to help ye with the casualties.”
“Not yet,” Daisy admitted.
She had not thought of that, but Poppy was right. There were other healers, and they should be coming into the castle soon, along with the other Beltane revelers. She would need their help.
“I’d better go and get things organized, for there are bound to be soldiers needing help soon. Will ye be all right for a while? I’ll try and come back and check on ye when I can.”
Poppy nodded. “Dinnae worry about me. I’ll stay here and watch over the lass until it’s all over.”
Glad for Poppy’s resilience, Daisy left them and ran down the stairs to the doors of the keep. There, she found two guards on duty, with hundreds of shocked, subdued-looking people milling about in the courtyard.
“Will ye send up any of the healers that come? I need their help with any casualties,” she asked them.
Just then, a middle-aged, matronly woman with a pinched, worried face, black eyes, and a red kerchief tied over her head, hurried up to her and laid a hand on her arm. “Are ye Daisy?” she asked.
“Aye, I am,” Daisy replied, somewhat taken aback.
“I’m Daphne. I’m the healer from the village of Albamurie. I’ve been sent to help ye with the wounded.”
Daisy felt a wave of relief. “Och, I’m pleased to see ye, Daphne. I was worried I might have to manage it all on me own.” She smiled and squeezed the woman’s arm. “D’ye ken if any of the others are coming?”
“Umm, I think I saw Drew somewhere in the crowd just now,” Daphne murmured, looking across the sea of heads. “Ach, there he is. Drew! Drew!” she shouted.
A man whose balding head rose above those surrounding him turned to them. A pair of shrewd brown eyes fixed on Daphne.
“There ye are,” he called, pushing his way through the bodies and finally reaching them.
Introductions were made, and Daisy shook the tall, thin healer’s hand, welcoming him warmly.
“I heard that Maria is stuck with one of her patients in one of the far villages—Cashcallen, I believe. I dinnae ken if she’ll be able to come to help us at all,” Drew told Daisy and Daphne, his lined face showing his concern.
“We’ll have to do our best without her,” Daphne said to him, “but ye ken, Daisy here has a grand reputation as a great healer. ’Tis why the Laird brought her here, to cure Lady Elodie when we couldnae, so her skills will make up for Maria not being here. We must help her all we can.”
She spoke matter-of-factly, without any of the rancor Daisy had been slightly fearful of.
“I hope Maria and her patient will be safe,” she told them. “Shall we go up to the healing room and get things ready for the casualties?”
The pair responded with enthusiasm, and then they all hurried up the stairs to the healing room. Fortunately, both Daphne and Drew were familiar with where everything was kept. Though both were based in nearby villages, both of them often treated patients at the castle, too.
The trio quickly divided up the preparation for the inevitable influx of injured soldiers. Drew handled the heavier tasks, hauling cots from a nearby storeroom and extra bedding into the room and arranging them to accommodate the wounded. Daphne organized piles of clean dressings for bandages and compresses on the countertops while boiling kettle after kettle of water and setting them aside to cool for cleaning wounds and drinking.
Then, both of them came to help Daisy with making up extra salves to prevent wounds from putrefying, tinctures for easing pain, and sleeping draughts for the worst injured. Bottles of fortified wine known for its strengthening properties were set out, as well as flasks of whisky famed for cleaning wounds effectively and for reviving patients in shock.
It was a great relief when Jamie came into the room and told Daisy he was on his way to guard Elodie and Poppy. At least she could be sure they were safe. She sent him off with a blessing, but she could not help being fearful for Bellamy’s safety.
It was not long before they heard the first of the wounded being brought up to them, and from then on, there was no rest for any of them. With each new arrival, news of the progress of the battle was received.
Daisy breathed a silent sigh of relief when she learned that Bellamy’s men were on the attack and that things were not looking good for Lachlan Pearson’s men.
She had never before been forced to work under such shocking and arduous conditions, being confronted by a ceaseless stream of men wounded in battle in varying states of suffering. Some had been stuck by arrows, others had sustained horrible injuries from close combat with swords and dirks, some were screaming or moaning in pain, while others were unconscious or dying.
There was so much blood and noise from the injured soldiers that there were times when she found it hard to think about what she had to do next. But just like Daphne and Drew, she soon became hardened to it and simply kept going, helping them all as best she could.
But despite her intense focus on the needs of the moment, there was a corner of her mind and her heart reserved for only Bellamy and Elodie, and she worried endlessly for their safety.
In truth, the whole night seemed like a nightmare. She could still not believe what Nadia had done and could only conclude that the young woman’s past experiences had somehow warped her thinking and made her susceptible to her brother’s cruel demands. However, that did nothing to excuse her actions.
It chilled Daisy’s blood to think how Nadia had pretended to care for Elodie so convincingly that the little girl and everyone else, including Daisy, had trusted her completely. And to find she had been coldheartedly poisoning her little friend the whole time was horrifying.
It did not matter that Lachlan had ordered her to do it. She should have refused, at least, even if she did not tell the Laird that Lachlan was alive and plotting against him. Such twisted evil was beyond Daisy’s comprehension.
Daisy dreaded to think what Nadia would have done if she had not decided to leave that night and gone back to the castle from the Beltane celebrations to kiss Elodie goodbye.
And now, Bellamy, the man she loved with all her heart, was in mortal danger from this vile Lachlan Pearson. The fear was almost overwhelming, kept at bay only by her duty to her patients.
And no one seemed to know Bellamy’s whereabouts.
When the stream of injured soldiers dwindled to a trickle, she turned to Drew and Daphne. “Can ye cope here for a while? I have to go and check on something,” she asked, her worry at such a pitch, she felt she had to go and try to find him.
“Of course,” Daphne told her with a nod, just finishing dressing the wound of a soldier injured in the arm by an arrow.
“Aye, everything is under control here, dinnae worry,” Drew chimed in.
“Thank ye both,” Daisy said and then hurried out of the room.
Once in the hallway, she picked up her skirts and ran, down the hallway and stairs and to the doors of the keep. She pushed between the guards at the door and went out into the packed courtyard, looking frantically for Bellamy among the subdued crowd of villagers.
Her heart clenching in her chest, she scanned the groups of frightened people, searching for his imposing figure, but she could not see him anywhere. Growing increasingly desperate, she ran towards the guardhouse and was surprised to see the main gates were open.
She stopped, seeing blood-spattered, weary-looking Murdoch warriors walking slowly back inside in knots. She felt a shred of hope, for she realized the worst of the battle must be over and the fighters had successfully vanquished their attackers. Her eyes raked over them, hoping to see Bellamy among them.
Her hope dying, she was about to turn away to continue her search elsewhere when she saw him. His tall, broad figure was unmistakable as he walked slowly through the gates with his claymore dragging behind him. He was framed by the hellish glow of the bonfires out in the fields, looking very much like the monster she had first met all those weeks ago when he had kidnapped her.
She did not care about any of that anymore. Her heart bursting with gratitude for his safety and love for him, she ran to him.
“Bellamy!” she shouted above the surrounding din as she raced towards him.
Bellamy stopped and looked in her direction. Then, he sheathed his sword and opened his arms. Delirious with joy, Daisy launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly to her, sobbing his name over and over.
They stayed like that for several long moments, just holding each other, before Bellamy turned her face up to his and looked deeply into her eyes. Daisy smiled into his, which glinted like silver in the garish light, turning her knees to water.
Everything around them disappeared when Bellamy’s lips came down on hers hungrily, as if he would devour her, and Daisy returned his passion wholeheartedly, putting all the love she held for him into her kiss.
When their lips finally broke apart, she asked him what had happened.
“Pearson is dead. I made sure of it this time, for I killed him meself. He willnae be troubling anyone anymore.”
It was then that Daisy noticed the deep gash that had sliced right through his vambrace and left a deep, bloody wound in his forearm. She grasped his wrist and examined the wound, alarmed.
“Ye must come with me to the healing room and let me see to that right away,” she told him, tugging at his arm.
“’Tis but a scratch,” Bellamy told her, pulling his wrist free and holding her against him again, stroking her hair and gazing into her eyes. He leaned down and whispered huskily against her hair, “Thank ye, Daisy, with all me heart, for staying and helping me people.”
But all Daisy could do in reply was cry and hold him tight.
* * *
In the first few days following the battle, Daisy had her work cut out, along with Daphne and Drew, in caring for the multitude of patients. Incredibly, they had lost only two men, though that was bad enough. Thankfully, the rest would recover from their wounds and fight another day, with very few exceptions.
The healer Maria had arrived on the day after the attack. She was a plump, lively girl in her mid-twenties with dark, curly hair and brown eyes. She proved to be very competent and hardworking, and she seemed happy to take over some of the caring duties from Daisy and the others, to give them some rest after their marathon.
“Ye must be worn out,” she told Daisy solicitously on the evening following her appearance. She had already sent an exhausted Daphne off for a rest. “Go and put yer feet up for a few hours while I take over here. Everyone is settled, so there isnae much to do. Drew and I can cope for a while.”
“Och, thank ye kindly, Maria,” Daisy replied, having warmed rapidly to the friendly young woman.
“But I’ll want something in return,” Maria added when Daisy opened the door to leave the healing room.
Surprised, Daisy turned back to her. “Oh. What is that?”
“I want ye to teach me some things, seeing as ye’re such a great healer. I want to learn from ye,” Maria told her with a cheeky smile.
“I’ll be happy to teach ye anything ye wish, as long as I ken it,” Daisy promised with a small laugh as she went out.
With a sense of deep satisfaction that came with knowing she had fulfilled her duties as a healer to the best of her ability, she went to her room, took off her shoes, and lay down on her bed.
The problem with having a break from work was always that her thoughts would immediately turn to Bellamy. This was no exception. As soon as her head touched the pillow, thoughts of him and visions of his face would pop into her head, not to be banished.
Ever since they had been reunited at the gate and kissed so passionately, they had not seen much of each other. Even when Bellamy had come to visit his injured men in the healing room, he had seemed intent on speaking to his men and not to her, except briefly.
Though they had met in passing when going about their business in the castle, Bellamy had always seemed to be busy with some aspect of the clear-up after the battle. Much as Daisy wanted to speak to him, she had so far felt unable to interrupt him.
Now, as she lay quietly in her bed, absorbed in thoughts of him, it struck her a little painfully that, busy as he undoubtedly was, he was deliberately avoiding her.
She told herself over and over that she was being unfair. It was totally understandable for him to be taken up with his duties after such an event, more so even than herself.
Even so, it stung, and it gave her a peculiar feeling that there was more to his distance than merely being absorbed in the clear-up. It felt to her as if something was afoot.