Page 23 of The Highlander’s Hellion Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #1)

23

“ T his hurts worse than the stabbin’,” Alison groaned, her eyelids fluttering as the edges of her vision began to darken.

“I told ye it was goin’ to hurt like hell.”

Malina’s voice rang in her ears, but Alison was unable to look at her friend. She could not lift her head without Malina screeching at her not to look. She lay as flat and still as she could, staring at the ceiling while her best friend stitched her up.

“’Tis a miracle they missed everythin’ vital,” Malina said.

“Ye wouldnae be callin’ it that if ye could feel the agony of it,” Alison hissed through gritted teeth.

A hot bolt of pain shot through her again as the needle punctured her skin. Her whole body tensed in response, and she tried to focus on her breathing.

In through yer nose, out through yer mouth. There ye are.

It hurt to pull air into her lungs. From the moment the knife had been driven into her chest, Alison had only experienced fear and tremendous pain, but Malina had promised her that the worst of it would soon be over.

“I ken ye dinnae feel that way, but ye’ve been very lucky,” Malina chastised.

Alison could feel the thread that her friend was using to close her wound pull through her skin. A pain-filled whine tore from her throat. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she was unable to stop them as they rolled down her cheeks.

“Remember to breathe,” Malina commanded, and it was only then that Alison realized she had been holding her breath.

She exhaled, the feel of the air leaving her lungs and the accompanying pain serving as a sharp reminder that, despite everything that had happened, she was alive.

“I’m tryin’,” she whispered.

Malina sighed. “I ken.”

Another sharp stab of pain, and Alison winced.

“I’m almost finished,” Malina assured her, just as the needle tugged and then punctured again. “Last one.”

The stitches holding the chest wound together tugged painfully, and Alison sucked in a breath. She felt every movement as Malina cut the thread and then knotted it.

A sudden splash of liquid across the wound made Alison’s vision go white.

“What is that?” she cried out as the liquid stung and seeped into the wound.

“’Tis an astringent. It will…”

But Alison did not have the chance to find out what the astringent was for, for the door opened and Duncan stepped inside.

Her heart, which had already been beating so fast that she was certain it would burst out of her chest, somehow found a way to hammer even faster at the sight of him.

His blue eyes, which had been so bright and alive the night before, were dark and shuttered. He now seemed more closed off than he had been when he had first come to her aid.

Alison’s stomach clenched at the sight. “Ye’re leavin’ again.”

It was not a question, but Duncan nodded anyway. “I am.”

His confirmation cut her deeper than the dagger of whoever had stabbed her. She turned her head away and stared blankly at the wall.

The tears that had sprung to her eyes in response to the pain spilled over anew. She did not want him to see her cry.

I willnae let him see me cry.

The sound of heavy boots crossing the floor alerted her to his approach, giving her time to blink rapidly and clear her vision. She swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks, banishing as many tears as she could before he entered her line of sight.

Alison realized that he was not looking at her, and she followed his gaze. He was staring expectantly at Malina.

“I’ve stitched her up,” Malina explained. “Somehow, they didnae hit anythin’ vital. She’s in for a hell of a recovery, but she will recover.”

“ She is lyin’ right here ,” Alison hissed, causing Duncan and Malina to turn their heads and look at her. “Dinnae talk about me as if I’m nae in the room. I’m nae a corpse, nay matter how hard that heathen tried.”

“Heathen?” Duncan echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Aye, who else would stab people in their sleep but a heathen?”

Duncan turned to Malina. “Has she been like this the whole time? I thought ye gave her milk of the poppy.”

“She’s been fightin’ me at every turn,” Malina sighed as she began to pack her things back into her medical bag. “She refused the poppy. Said she wasnae goin’ to be asleep when the would-be killer returned. Wanted to be ready to fight him herself if it came down to it.”

Duncan huffed out a laugh.

Alison glared at him. “Well, ye ran off,” she argued. “How was I supposed to ken that we’d be safe? As far as I kenned, ye’d left again. Which wasnae too far from the truth, apparently.”

His face softened slightly as he turned back to the healer. “Will ye give us a minute of privacy?”

Malina nodded and squeezed Alison’s hand. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

“Arthur is out there,” Duncan warned her, but she did not acknowledge it.

Alison watched her friend pick up her bag. She saw that her hands were still shaking as she turned and exited the room. The door closed with a click, but Alison still stared at it, imagining Malina on the other side.

Her best friend was a damned good healer—that had always been true. Alison knew the woman had seen her fair share of terrible wounds and illnesses over the years, but that morning, Malina had been called upon to save her best friend’s life and stitch her back together. Melina had to ensure that she remained steady while the person most dear to her bled all over her.

And I did nothin’ but gripe at her.

A wave of shame and regret washed over Alison. She promised herself that she would be a model patient from there on out, because if what Duncan said was true, it was about to become just her and Rosie all over again. Melina was the only close friend she had left.

“Will ye look at me?”

Duncan sounded frustrated, but Alison ignored him, clenching her jaw and continuing to stare at the door. She could not bear to look at him and listen to him offer feeble excuses to justify his imminent departure.

Days ago, she had tried to prepare herself for exactly what was transpiring now. She had reminded herself a thousand times over that, at the end of the day, he would ride off and leave them again.

Alison realized that the repeated assurances of the permanency of his presence in their lives had begun to give her hope.

Now, that hope was being dashed.

He sighed, then moved to the foot of the bed and into her field of vision. His massive body blocked her view of the door, and he glared at her as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are ye poutin’ now? Is that what ye’re doin’?”

“I’m nae poutin’!” she fired back, but her voice sounded sulky even to her own ears. “I’ve just been stabbed. I dinnae want to deal with this. So, go on. Leave.”

“I’ll come back. I willnae be gone for long this time.”

She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “And how long will it take this time? One year? Three? Heavens, mayhap it’ll even take five! That would be nothin’ new.”

“Careful, wife,” Duncan growled. “Ye may be wounded, and ye may be scared. And I understand that, I do. But I willnae allow ye to disrespect me. I’m tellin’ ye, I will be back.”

“And where are ye runnin’ off to this time? What is so urgent that ye need to leave me and Rosie at a time like this!”

Saying her daughter’s name sparked something in her mind.

Her heart rate sped up, and panic filled her chest as a stream of bile rose in the back of her throat. She bolted up, fighting against the raw pain that threatened to overtake her.

“What are ye doin’?” Duncan roared, rushing back around the bed with his arms outstretched.

He was next to her in a few seconds, his massive hands cradling her shoulders more gently than she had thought possible. She struggled against his hold.

“Rosie!” she cried, her fear lacing each syllable. “I have to get back to her and make sure she’s all right. They could have gotten to her first! Could have broken into the Tomlinsons’. She could be?—”

“She’s all right.” Duncan’s voice was calm and steady as he crouched beside her. “I’ve seen her. Evander has her now, and he’s takin’ her back to the castle. She’ll be with the guards within the hour, and then he’ll be back here to take ye home.”

She studied his face, looking for any trace of a lie. All morning, she had been so consumed with pain and what was happening to her that she had not once stopped to think about her daughter.

But Duncan’s expression was convincing. Alison could see nothing but the truth on his face.

Slowly, she began to relax. She steadied herself, trying to focus on pulling air in and out of her lungs.

“She’s all right then?” she asked, calming down a bit more when he nodded.

“Now, lie down, or ye’re goin’ to hurt yerself all the more.”

Alison glared at Duncan but ultimately listened to him. It had been easy to ignore the pain when she had been worked up about Rosie, but as she sank back down on the pillows, her limbs began to shake with the effort of holding back a sob.

Duncan gently rearranged the pillows behind her, allowing her to prop herself up as he covered her in one of the fresh blankets the innkeeper had provided. He tucked it tightly around her.

“I’m practicin’ me tucks.”

Admittedly, the gesture did make Alison feel somewhat better.

“Ye’re hoverin’ like a maither hen,” she quipped.

Duncan smirked. “Well, I have to make sure ye dinnae run out of this place by yerself,” he answered, but his voice was strained.

They fell silent for a moment.

Duncan sat on the edge of the bed. He turned toward Alison and observed her remorsefully.

“I have to go,” he said.

This time, Alison let his words sink in.

She nodded. “Aye. But where are ye goin’? If ye’re leavin’ to hunt the savage who stabbed me, how do ye even ken where to look? Do ye ken who the person is?”

He shook his head. “I dinnae ken the name yet. But when Evander took Rosie to the castle, I started walkin’ back to the inn and noticed a lot of trampled foliage on the southern side. When I went over and looked, I saw fresh hoof marks. Whoever left, left in a hurry.”

“Ye think it might be them?”

“Aye.” He nodded. “I do. I have to see if I can find them. But Alison, me leavin’ willnae be like last time.”

She sighed. “I ken.”

“Do ye?”

Alison held his stare before nodding.

Something inside Duncan seemed to uncoil, but not entirely. He was too high-strung to achieve that, but his shoulders did relax marginally, and that was enough for her.

“How long do ye think ye’ll be?” she asked, hope fluttering in her pain-filled chest.

“I dinnae ken,” he answered. “But I will try nae to be gone for more than a couple of days. I have me wife and daughter to protect, after all.”

Alison could not stop the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Ye said as much afore,” she noted, but there was no bite in her words.

“Ach.” He waved her off. “Things are different now.”

Her grin widened. The pain in her chest eased a little, soothed by the knowledge that, although things were uncertain, and what had taken place that morning had been terrifying, their relationship would not revert to the way it had been.

Duncan will find them. He’ll find them, and then he’ll come home, and we will have nay reason to worry anymore.

She found comfort in the thought and allowed it to cover her like a soothing balm. A sudden bout of exhaustion engulfed her, and she nodded toward the door.

“Go, then,” she urged. “Go get the bastard and then come home to us.”

“I’ll make him regret the day he was born,” Duncan promised.

He stood up, leaning down just long enough to press a quick kiss to her lips, then strode to the door. When he opened it, Malina was standing on the other side.

There was a brief exchange of words, but it did not take long. Alison listened as Duncan walked away, the thumping of his boots on the wooden floor growing fainter and fainter until he was gone.

Malina stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

“I’ll tell ye one thing,” she said, locking gazes with Alison. “Whoever did this is in for quite a nasty surprise. I’ve never seen the Laird in such a state.”

“May God have mercy on their soul,” Alison sneered, a fierce pride coursing through her as she thought of her husband.

Malina grinned. “I dinnae think ‘tis God that they need to worry about.”