Page 30 of The Highlander’s Virgin Nun (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #2)

CHAPTER ONE

“F etch the healer!” he barked, his voice carrying through the halls like a command of war. “And bring fresh water and linens—now!” Hunter shouted.

He strode through the dimly lit corridors, his boots echoing sharply against the stone. In his arms, his young daughter, Elena lay limp. Her face pale as death and her body burning with fever.

Hunter carried Elena into the great hall, his gaze sweeping over the rows of sick and dying people. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sickness, the low groans of the fevered echoing off the stone walls. Most lay still, their bodies wracked with heat, while others moaned in delirium or vomited into buckets at their bedsides. His jaw tightened as he spotted the healer among them, his face pale and glistening with sweat, struck down before he could find the cause of the illness.

The maids rushed forward, guiding Hunter to an empty cot near the hearth. They worked quickly, stripping Elena of her damp clothes and dressing her in a clean linen shift. She barely stirred, her breathing shallow, her skin far too warm beneath his touch.

Daniel approached in a rush, his face dark with worry as he watched the scene unfold.

“This is bad, Hunter,” Daniel muttered, his voice low. “We cannae let anythin’ happen to little Elena. We must find a way out of this, for her sake. Me niece cannae die. The healer’s down, and we’ve lost three just this morn.”

Hunter exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Aye, I see it,” he replied, his tone clipped, his mind already racing for a solution.

A maid wrung out a cool cloth and pressed it to Elena’s forehead, her lips pressed in a grim line. “She’s burnin’ up like the rest. The sweat beads down her head like the others. She seems to be in a deep delirium.” the woman murmured, shaking her head.

Hunter clenched his jaw, helplessness clawing at him like a beast.

Daniel moved closer, lowering his voice. “We need answers, and fast. If this spreads further, we’ll lose half the clan.”

Hunter nodded, his eyes locked on Elena’s fragile form. He had already lost his parents—he would not lose his only child, too.

Another violent coughing fit erupted from a man across the hall, his body shuddering with the force of it. A maid rushed to his side, pressing a cloth to his lips, only to recoil in horror at the sight of blood.

Hunter’s stomach twisted, dread settling in his bones. Whatever this sickness was, it was only getting worse.

The healer let out a weak groan, shifting slightly on his cot.

Hunter strode over, crouching beside the old man, gripping his shoulder. “Ye need to tell me what ye ken,” he demanded, his voice edged with urgency.

The healer’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with fever, his breath rasping as he struggled to speak. “Water…” the old man croaked, his fingers twitching.

Hunter turned to Daniel, his expression dark with resolve. “Ye must stay and guard the castle,” he said, his voice firm.

Daniel frowned, arms crossed over his chest. “Where are ye goin’, then?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

Hunter’s gaze flicked to Elena’s pale face before locking back onto Daniel. “The lass needs a healer – and I will bring one to her,” he said, his voice like steel. “Nay matter the cost.”

Daniel exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “It’s dangerous, Hunter,” he warned.

“Aye, and lettin’ her waste away is worse,” Hunter shot back, his patience thin. He grabbed his sword belt and fastened it, his movements sharp and decisive. Every moment spent talking was a moment wasted. Daniel clenched his fists but gave a curt nod.

"I'll send for the guards to escort ye," Daniel said.

"Nay. I plan to be swift and go unnoticed in cloak of a peasant. There's nay time for ceremony. I'm goin’ to clan McAllister for their healer. Tell nay one. The less that ken then the less there's room for treachery," Hunter said.

“I’ll keep the castle safe,” Daniel said, his voice low. “But ye’d best return, Hunter. If ye fall, the clan falls.” Hunter gave him a hard look, then strode toward the door without another word.

The cold wind bit at his skin as he stepped into the courtyard. He grabbed a peasant cloak, saddled his horse, horse all under the darkness. The sky was dark with storm clouds, but he paid them no mind. Elena had little time left, and he would not let her die.

He swung into the saddle and gripped the reins. He moved to the side gate and ordered the guard. "Tell nay one ye saw me leave, understood?"

"Aye, me laird," the guard said.

As the heavy door groaned open, Hunter spurred his horse forward, disappearing into the night with stealth.