Page 79 of A Highland Healer Captured
A flash of steel glinted. The intruder had a blade—small, sharp, quick. Skylar’s dirk met it in a spray of sparks. They snarled against each other, breath hot, locked close.
“Ye’ll nae touch him!” she spat, teeth bared, driving her weight down.
The stranger hissed, wordless, shoving back with a force that belied their slight frame. They were no brute, but quick as a fox.
Skylar stamped her heel onto the wrist that held the knife. It clattered free, skittering under the bed. She seized the chance, grabbed the fallen shawl slick with Katie’s blood, and wrenched it around the figure’s wrists. Her hands shook, but she tied fast, healer’s knots turned to fetters.
The intruder writhed, bucked, nearly threw her off, but she planted her knee hard between shoulder blades and leaned with every ounce of fury she had.
“Skylar…” Katie’s weak croak came from behind her.
“Stay still!” Skylar barked, not looking back. “Daenae move, Katie.”
A rustle came from the bed.
“Miss Skylar?” Grayson’s small, groggy voice wavered. “Wha — What’s happenin’? Why is Katie on the floor?”
Skylar’s heart seized.
Saints, nae now.
“Shh, lad,” she called, her voice a forced calm while her knee dug harder into the intruder’s back. “Ye must stay in bed. Daenae come from yer bed, ye hear?”
But the boy pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes, confusion thick on his face. “There’s… there’s someone here?”
“Aye, Grayson. But I’ve got them under me knee here. See?” Skylar said gently.
His eyes traveled from hers down to her shadowed knee, then back up to her face again.
“I want ye to just look at me, though, aye? Only me. Katie’s had a tumble, that’s all.”
The cloaked figure beneath her bucked suddenly, a guttural hiss tearing from the hood. Skylar nearly lost her grip.
Grayson yelped, scrambling toward the edge of the bed. “Da! Where’s Da?”
“Grayson!” Skylar’s tone cracked like a whip. “Stay on that bed! If ye move, lad, I’ll be too slow to keep ye safe. Do ye understand me?”
The boy froze, his little chest heaving. “Safe?”
“Aye, safe. Ye’re safe if ye stay just there. Watch me, Grayson — eyes on me.”
Katie groaned, trying to lift her head. “Sky…lar?—”
“Damn it, daenae move, Katie!” Skylar snapped, panic laced with command. “Hold the shawl where I pressed it. Keep yer hand there. That’s all ye need do.”
The intruder writhed beneath her knee, forcing her to press down harder, her dirk trembling in her grip. She risked one more glance at Grayson.
The boy’s wide eyes glistened, but he nodded, voice small. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay.”
“There’s a good lad,” she breathed, forcing steadiness into the words as her whole body shook with effort. “That’s me brave little hawk. Yer da will be here soon. Till then — ye and me’ll keep each other strong.”
Her heart thundered, her cheek ached, her hands shook from adrenaline. Every inch of her wanted to tear back the hood, to see the face, to know. But something colder, sharper, stopped her. Not yet. The knowing would come, but not here, not now, not with Katie bleeding and Grayson sleeping in reach of this devil.
The shawl held tight. The stranger stilled at last, chest heaving under the cloak.
Skylar pressed the dirk point-down into the boards beside their ear, close enough that they’d feel the tremor of it. “Ye’ll stay there till the laird comes,” she growled, her voice shaking but steady enough.
Then the door burst wide as if on command.
