Page 88 of Wild Highland Rose
They found her a few yards from Aida. She was lying on her back, one arm draped across her abdomen. Cameron dropped to his knees, his mind sending fervent prayers to heaven. Marjory, knelt, too, cradling Grania's head in her lap.
Heart pounding with fear, Cameron reached for her wrist. The skin was warm to the touch and to his relief he felt the faint flutter of a heartbeat. "She's alive."
Marjory looked up, tears filling her eyes. "Is she going to be all right?"
"I won't know until I can see the extent of her injuries." His eyes raked over her. There was a gash above her right eye, but despite the blood, it appeared superficial. Her left arm was bent across her body at an odd angle. Probing gently, he was relieved to discover that nothing was broken, but her shoulder was dislocated. It was already quite swollen and beginning to show color. "Nothing here life threatening."
"She's no' awake." Marjory stroked the hair back from her face and wiped away some of the blood with the hem of her skirt.
"I know, and it worries me." Help me roll her onto her side. Maybe we're missing something." Still holding her head, Marjory placed her other hand behind Grania's injured shoulder. Cameron put his hands behind her hip and lower back. "Okay—on three. One, two,three."
They carefully rolled her up onto her side, exposing her back. "Merciful God." Marjory's position afforded her an immediate look at Grania's back. Cameron sat back on his heels, steeling himself for the worst.
There was blood everywhere. It had soaked into the linen of her dress, so that it looked like a macabre tie-dye. Even the heavy wool of her plaid was stained brownish red. With fumbling hands, Cameron worked to free her from the blood soaked cloth, resorting finally to the small knife Marjory pressed into his hands.
When he cut away the cloth, he almost wished he hadn't. The jagged edges of a stab wound glared at him, the edges an angry red. He fought to steady his hands, then carefully inspected the wound.
It was around nine inches in length and was located on her right side, neatly penetrating the rib cage. He couldn't judge the depth accurately, but he was certain it had penetrated deep enough to have hit vital organs.
Marjory silently handed him a wad of cloth and a strip to bind it with. Blessing her for her practical thinking, he pressed the pad against the wound, wishing for sutures and antibiotics, and a whole host of paraphernalia he didn't have.
Grania needed surgery, and she needed it now. But that wasn't possible, so he swallowed back his frustration and bound the wound, hoping to at least prevent further blood loss.
She moaned and shifted a little as he tied the bandage in place.
"Grania? Can you hear me?" Marjory whispered anxiously. There was no response. They carefully rolled her over onto her back. "Grania? 'Tis me, Marjory. Cameron is here, too. Can you hear me?"
She waited, exchanging a worried glance with Cameron, then leaned back over the older woman, crooning soft nothings to her. Cameron ripped a strip of linen from the sleeve of his shirt. He fashioned it into a sling and was in the process of placing it carefully around her injured shoulder when Marjory's words stopped him cold.
"Eileen, can you hear me?"
His head jerked up. "What did you call her?"
Marjory looked up, meeting his gaze, pushing her hair impatiently back behind an ear. "Eileen. 'Twas her real name, before she came here. Eileen Even. I thought that maybe by using it I could reach her."
A wave of dizziness washed through him, and he bent over, taking slow deep breaths, his mind threatening to explode.
"Cameron, what is it?" He felt Marjory's hand on his back. "You look as if you've seen a kelpie."
He slowly raised his head, staring in wonder at the injured woman. "Not a kelpie, Marjory, a ghost. An honest-to-God ghost. You're absolutely sure that's what she said her name was?"
"Positive. In fact there was a bit more." She screwed up her face in the effort to remember. "I have it," she said triumphantly. "She told me her name was Eileen Donovan Even. What is it about the name that upsets you so?"
Cameron paused, his mind still reeling from the enormity of what he was now certain was reality. He drew in a breath, releasing it on a sigh. "Eileen Even was my mother, Marjory. She died in a plane crash when I was eight."
A soft moan from Grania brought their attention back to the injured woman. She was tossing her head back and forth, mumbling something. Cameron felt her head. It was cool but clammy.
Placing a hand at her throat, he timed her heart rate. Too fast. She was showing signs of shock. "We've got to get her to wake up."
As if on cue, Grania's head turned in Cameron's direction. "Cameron, is that you?"
"I'm here, Grania."Mother. His mind added, silently.
"Where am I, then?"
"You're still in the woods."
"And Allen?"
