Page 34 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Eamon clenched but nodded. It was not that he was not used to such injuries, but to see it in his big brother and to feel like it was his fault made the situation seem far worse. He turned to leave. “I shall rush and find the man myself if I have to question everyone on the laird’s land. He was just about to run through the door when a MacManus man returned with an elderly man. “Here is the healer, Wilson. Ye are lucky that our laird has such a compassionate heart. If we lose men because of yer selfish folly, and ye dinnae die yerself, then we shall handle that well enough for ye.”

Isabelle put her hands on her hips. “How dare you speak that way when a man could be upon his deathbed, and you bring him a healer to help him survive? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

The MacManus man threw her a scowl and seemed about to retort, but then he simply stamped out of the room, and Isabelle smiled at Arya with smug satisfaction. The older man walked unsteadily to Sean’s side and began a series of humphs and grunts as he peered at Sean’s leg. Isabelle pushed to stand next to him. “Could you sew it for him, sir? Or will he need to seal it?”

The old man looked over his spectacles at Isabelle but addressed Eamon when he said, “This is a fiery Sassenach, is she nae? Pretending she knows aught of medicine and yelling back at my kinsmen?” Despite his harsh words, his tone was light and joking.

Eamon merely replied, “Aye, sir. Tell me if ye can do anything for my brother.”

The healer grunted again. “Aye, so I can.” He pulled out a cloth bag and rolled it out across the bed, grunting as he pulled out a few items. He passed a needle to Eamon and said, “Heat this in the fire, boy, and return it tae me.”

Eamon did so, and Isabelle watched with interest as the man pulled the arrow from the leg, only to find the blood rushing forth as he did so. Isabelle hurried forward and placed a cloth on the wound, pressing down hard against it. “I shall hold it for you, sir, until you are ready.”

“Deferential ye are now. Good. That will do.” Eamon returned with the needle, and the man nudged Isabelle out of the way while he worked. Isabelle stood by Eamon’s side, and she curled her hand into his. Eamon felt stronger with her beside him. All he wanted was for Sean to wake and to be there by his side while they defeated Cutler once and for all.

It was a quick enough procedure, and the man rolled up his cloth bag once more and left the room, calling back to them. “Keep the wound clean.”

Isabelle took a dry cloth and wrapped it around the stitched skin, tying it tight. “Now, all we need is to find a way to wake him once more. We will leave him to rest a little while and see if there is any news below.”

“Aye,” Eamon said, hoping his voice sounded strong, but knowing that inside he felt weak and scared. He did not want to leave the warm room where all had been settled and where there was hope for Sean’s recovery.

“Arya, will you watch over him? Try to wake him, and find broth for him to eat. That will strengthen him well enough, I should think.”

Arya nodded and left the pair of them as they descended into the main hall. Once they were there, Laird MacManus called Eamon to his side. “Eamon Wilson, I want ye tae sit with me and tell me more of yer plight with Cutler. We have heard naught yet, but my men can see smoke in the distance. Their eyes are watching for horses. Here, take some sustenance, will ye?” He pushed forward bread and wine, and Eamon took it gratefully.

He pointed to Isabelle standing nearby. “Can this woman join us as well?” MacManus turned towards Isabelle, his brow furrowed. “And who is this, lad?”

“This is my captive. She is my leverage against Lord Cutler. She is his daughter.” MacManus nodded. At his frank words, Eamon surprised himself and tried to make his tone less sharp and cold. He hoped desperately that Isabelle did not take him seriously, for he knew that he would do nothing of the sort, not least of all because she did not wish to return to her father. But his greatest reason was to keep the woman whom he loved more than anyone else in the world. He could not lose his chance at happiness by letting her go unless she did not feel the same way. Isabelle sat down next to them and began to eat.

MacManus watched Isabelle and looked her up and down. “I see. Ye have played a dangerous game, have ye nae, Wilson? All in the name of what? Protecting yer brother and his band of villagers? I think ye might regret it in the end.” MacManus narrowed his eyes. “Especially if my men are tae suffer for something that is nae their matter.”

Eamon leaned forward. “But, sir, Cutler will be everyone’s problem as he burns and rampages along the way as he tries to find us. He has revenge tae wreak upon the village of Drumnadrochit as well, which I am sure he will complete once he turns back toward home. Who knows what else the man will do once his ultimate mission is complete?”

“Or perhaps he will leave Scotland, once he has completed that mission. I know I have given ye safe haven, Wilson, but I dinnae like the sound of this. I didnae like the sound of this before, and I dinnae like it now.”

Eamon wracked his brain for any way he could convince the MacManus clan to help them. Or at least still allow them the protection of his walls. “What of Cutler’s wealth? Would that be of any interest tae ye, laird?”

The larger man leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes flicked to Isabelle for a brief moment, and Eamon’s stomach clenched at the thought that the man would ask for Isabelle as his price. He hoped and prayed that was not the case. Laird MacManus said, “What wealth?”

---