Page 30 of Highlander's Rebellious Affair
Ian kicked his horse into a full gallop and tried to outrun the man as the first arrow grazed his shoulder, missing him because he bent forward. He arched and groaned out loud when another flying arrow hit him, and the pain reverberated through him.
He was bleeding out, he could feel the blood seep through his leine and he got weaker, but he knew just one arrow shot at him could not make him this weak. The arrow had to be poisoned.
He slowed his horse, and managed to dismount, then he staggered the remaining path of the way till he could see the cottage very close through his blurred vision.
Hope and his sister had come there today, he didn’t know if they were still there, but he hoped they weren’t because he didn’t want Hope to see him this way.
Every step he took grew painful by the second, and he shook his head to both sides, so he could clear his vision only long enough to make it to the cottage. Ian reached behind him to take out the arrow, and he groaned out in pain when he did.
The first person who saw him was Hope, and her scream as she rushed to him was all he remembered before slipping away from reality.
* * *
“Poison,” Orlaith said and Hope gasped. “I have treated a wound like this before, and if we dinnae act fast, it will kill him before dawn in two days.”
Together, they struggled to drag Ian across the yard to the front porch. They couldn’t make it any further because of his weight, so they had to treat him there until someone else came along to join them.
“What do we do? What do ye need to treat him?” Hope asked in a panic. There was no one else here, Rhea rode out hours ago and she did not know where Callum was. Hope had thought he was out with Ian, but from the look of things he wasn’t.
“This is the second time he was shot,” she muttered. “This has to be Lyall.”
“Who?” Orlaith asked, and she shook her head.
“What do ye need?”
Orlaith gave her small list, and she rushed to the shelf where herbs were kept to check for them. Hope found everything listed, returned to Orlaith with them while Orlaith gathered a bowl of water and tried to clean the wound out.
It was a nasty hole right in his chest, and blood oozed out of it. Hope tried to contain her despair as she watched Orlaith tear the fabric of his clothes, and press the damp cloth to his skin. Ian did not move, and she moved to his side, sat on the floor of the front porch so she could place his head on her lap and soothe the hair away from his face.
“I hope the poison hasnae gone too deep,” Orlaith muttered with a frown as she continued to treat the wound. “I might need to bleed him out a little, just to make sure.”
“Do what ye have to do,” Hope said and closed her eyes as Orlaith reached for the knife and made a small slice over his back so that more blood gushed out.
Hope checked for a pulse, and saw that he was still breathing, but it was very faint. Orlaith’s hands were quick as she cleaned the surface of the wound, and then poured another liquid herb over it before wiping that dry too.
Next, she applied a salve over it, and then fixed her eyes on Hope. “What next?” Hope asked.
“Next we wait. If this is going to work then he has to wake up durnin’ the night, that is the only way we ken his body is fightin’ the poison.”
“So, if he wakes, then he is fine?”
“Nay,” Orlaith shook her head. “If he wakes then it will be a long night as a fever would consume his body and tear away at his mind. After that then he will be fine.”
Hope closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t know how long they sat there, waiting for someone to return, and when Callum finally did, he carried Ian into his cottage and made him comfortable on a bed while Hope sat and watched him.
She didn’t want to leave his side, she thought as she took his hands in hers and linked their fingers. Hope prayed he would wake up, and when he did, she wanted to be by his side.
23
Ian dreamed when the fever came, and it was far peaceful in his dream than where he lived now. His father was alive, smiling at him as he raced around the garden, holding his little trophy sword he got as a gift.
Rhea rushed into the garden with him, and giggled. “Look what faither got me,” Ian whispered with pride, showing off his gift. The sword was made from the finest gold, and he loved it. It was light enough for his small hands to carry, and this way he could learn to fight like his father and also teach Rhea.
Rhea admired the sword. “It is bonnie,” she said, her eyes drifting over his sword before it landed on his grin again. “I have to go find my nurse,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Once again I have made her search the entirety of this Castle to find me all day, and now that time is far spent and it is time for dinner, I shall let her find me.”
Ian giggled, and his father came close to them. “Run along, Rhea,” he said with a smile.
When they were alone, Ian went into his embrace, and together they sat on the ground of the garden. “Do ye want to hear a story?” his father asked, and Ian nodded.
