Highland Blessings (9 page)

His opponent also unsheathed his sword. They rode toward one another, both yelling the ancient battle cries of their ancestors. The sound of steel crashing against steel echoed through the dense forest. The effort drove each man sideways in his saddle. Their arms locked into opposing positions. Evan used as much force as he could muster to hold back his attacker’s sword. The man grunted as he shoved against Evan’s defensive hold.

Both men fell, hitting the hard earth and rolling to their feet. They turned to face each other, circling around in a fighting stance. Each man carefully assessed the other, waiting to see who would make the next move.

“Gregor, this one is just a lad and he carries no weapon. I’ll bind him and hope he talks,” said the man bending over Sim.

“He canna talk.” Evan tried to divert their attention from Sim to himself. “But I do!”

The man named Gregor continued to circle with him, his sword poised, ready to strike. “Ye must be Evan MacPhearson.” He tilted his head in a questioning gaze. His blond hair fell in layers above his shoulders. Cold, brown eyes penetrated Evan’s concentration.

The other man turned from his struggle with Sim. “Gregor, no sparring. Remember why we’re here. We need to talk to them.”

“Ye attacked me on MacPhearson land. My sword can do the talking for me.” Evan swung a wide arc, and Gregor matched him. Their swords clashed again.

The other warrior finally secured Sim’s bindings and stood. “I’m Elliot MacKenzie, and I came to see about my sister.”

Evan kept his gaze on the blond warrior before him. “Are ye a MacKenzie as well, here to see my bride?”

“My name’s Gregor Matheson, and yer mistaken, I am the man who will slay ye this day!” The next time their swords met a spark flared between the two sharp blades.

“Stop the sparring before ye regret it. Dead men canna talk.” Elliot strode toward them.

Gregor jabbed his sword at Evan, who stepped on pebbles and slid. His balance faltered, and he couldn’t block Gregor’s sword. The blade slid sideways into his chest between his ribs. Momentum forced Evan’s arm down in an arc slicing into Gregor’s throat. Both men slid to the ground with their life’s blood rapidly staining the earth.

Elliot ran the rest of the way to Gregor’s side. Too late. The wound in his neck had nearly beheaded him, killing him instantly. Elliot turned to see Evan’s skin turning milky white. His eyes were open and glazed with pain, watching and waiting for Elliot to finish him.

Instead, Elliot pulled the heavy sword from Evan’s chest and wrapped his own plaid tight around him. “I only wanted to talk to ye. Gregor always let his temper get the best of him. Although I’ll most likely lose my head, I’ll not leave ye here to die. MacPhearson Castle is the closest place, so I’ll take ye home and hope I might survive in the effort.”

Elliot bent and untied Sim’s feet and hands. “Guess I’ll have to take the chance that ye’d rather save yer brother’s life over avenging him.” He pointed toward Evan. “He needs help.” The lad looked at him with a dazed and fearful expression. His gaze followed the direction of Elliot’s finger. His eyes met and held Evan’s. Tears gathered in Sim’s brown eyes. The lad looked away, struggling to control his emotion.

“He’s deaf … and mute.” Evan spoke with short gasps of pain.

“We have to get help,” Elliot said again, grabbing Sim’s shoulders and forcing the lad to pay close attention to what he said. “Show me the way home.” Sim nodded, obediently scrambling to his feet.

Elliot moved back to Evan and carefully lifted him in his arms. Evan groaned.

“I know ’tis painful, but I must get ye back so ye can be saved. I’ve done all I can out here in the wilderness.” He grunted under Evan’s weight.

“Who … is Gregor?”

“He was betrothed to my sister, Akira.” Elliot balanced the burden of Evan’s weight.

“I … was … betrothed to … her.”

“Aye, ye were. He was to wed Akira after we received yer letter denouncing the betrothal. We couldn’t understand why ye would refuse Akira and then steal her away. My father is considering the circumstances and weighing our options and the consequences of our actions. ’Tis the only reason he waits to retaliate.”

“Not … me.” It was all Evan managed to say before he lost consciousness.

Bryce lunged at his opponent with his sword. He personally assisted in the training of each new warrior. The lad’s slow response could cost him his life. He needed to build his strength to wield the heavy sword more accurately.

He looked up and saw Balloch and Kian approaching. Their grim expressions didn’t bode well. He ordered one of his men to take his place and strode to where they waited. He wiped his sweating brow with his sleeve. “What is it?”

“Evan is severely wounded. Someone reported seeing a MacKenzie, carrying Evan through the village. I doubt they would have let him through the gates if Sim had not been with him.”

“Gather the men together. No one is to harm the MacKenzie until we know the circumstances.” He turned to Balloch. “I need ye to guard Akira. Do not let her leave her chamber under any circumstances. If she discovers a MacKenzie is here, she’ll attempt to get to him in some way. Kian, get the physician and bring him to Evan’s chamber.”

By the time Bryce left the fields and entered the courtyard, Sim shoved the side door open, and a man hauled Evan’s limp body into the castle. Bryce rushed to meet them, his chest pivoting into tension. “I don’t know if he’ll make it.” The man spoke in a tone of sympathy.

“He’d better.” Bryce’s clipped tone sounded full of worry, expressing no appreciation or accusation. He looked into the eyes of the man carrying his brother. “I don’t want to jar him. I’ll show ye where to lay him, and be quick about it,” he snapped, already moving in another direction, expecting the MacKenzie warrior to follow.

The man laid Evan down as gently as possible, and the waiting physician came forward. Bryce turned to Kian and two of his men outside the doorway.

“Escort him to the library and guard him there until I return, no matter how long it takes.”

Kian nodded and reached for the man’s arm, but he jerked away. “I wouldn’t have brought him here if I intended to be trouble.” He turned and gave Bryce a level stare. “Ye could at least treat me with courtesy for bringing him to ye.”

Kian waited, raising an eyebrow toward Bryce.

Bryce nodded. “Go then, with Kian. But I will want answers after my physician has seen to my brother.”

Angus Cullum, the MacPhearson physician, tore through Evan’s clothes and ordered hot water and cloths. After he cleaned the wound as best he could, he stood back and shook his head. “’Tis not good. The wound is verra deep, no doubt piercing a lung. It barely missed his heart. His lungs are hardly holding on, and he’s lost too much blood already. Ye’d better call Vicar Forbes.”

A flash of lightning stole Bryce’s mind from the present into the past. As a lad, Bryce had bent cradling his father’s head as he suffered from a wound similar to Evan’s. The same feeling of helplessness filled him now as a grown man. His mind cleared as Angus continued painting a grim picture that offered no hope. In a mad rage, Bryce grabbed him by the neck and shoved him against the wall. The physician started choking until Bryce loosened his hold.

“I am not God. I canna perform the impossible.” Angus gasped for air.

“Bryce! Put him down. Ye’re not helping Evan.” Akira appeared, pulling on his arm.

“I thought I told Balloch to keep ye in yer room?” He glared at Balloch standing at the entrance. Balloch looked down awkwardly, staring at his feet to avoid Bryce’s outrage.

“Ye did, but after he told me about Evan’s wound, I convinced him I might be of some help.” She went over to Evan.

“Angus says he’ll not live.” Bryce’s voice sounded gruff and foreign, even to his own ears. What had come over him? He looked at Angus apologetically and dropped him to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he muttered to the middle-aged physician, who rubbed his throat where Bryce’s handprint still lay.

Angus edged away from Bryce. “It isn’t wise to murder the only physician in yer village.” He glared up at Bryce. “Would ye rather I lie to ye, lad?”

Bryce shook his head and glanced at Akira, who turned to him with a bold calmness he hadn’t anticipated. She reached out and firmly gripped his arm. Something in her gentle expression gave him a peace he couldn’t explain.

“Ye canna give up hope when that is all ye have.”

Finella made a special healing salve for Evan’s wound, and Akira applied it. She talked to him while she worked and couldn’t help wondering if he actually heard her. After a while his lack of response made her concern grow. She turned in frustration and tightly closed her eyes.

Lord, please let him live. Too many lives have been lost from this terrible feud between our clans. Heal our families. Amen
. Akira whispered the silent prayer in her heart, careful not to disturb Bryce.

She opened her eyes. Bryce stood alone in the shadows. He wore a grim expression and prowled the quiet chamber like a caged animal. His broad shoulders slumped forward as if they carried the weight of the world. She thought of the bond she shared with her own brothers and then it was clear. She knew what Evan would fight for.

With a new purpose Akira leaned toward Evan. Her golden-red hair spilled over her shoulders as she bent to whisper in his ear. “Evan, Bryce is here to see ye. Evan, ye must fight to live. Sim needs ye.” She stole a glance at Bryce. He still stood in the shadows, but his posture had straightened, and she could feel his intense gaze upon her. She sensed the tension in his shoulders as they rose a little. She could almost feel the hope rise within him. “Bryce is waiting for ye,” she continued. “Ye’re a MacPhearson. Ye must stay alive to lead yer clan as ye were born to do. Ye’re the chieftain and yer people depend on ye for direction.”

Akira talked to Evan with encouragement, hoping something would come of it. She grew weary and her back ached at bending in the same position for so long. Evan’s head moved. At first she thought she imagined it, but then his eyes fluttered open. He stared at the ceiling.

“Bryce, he’s coming to,” she whispered with excitement. Evan tried to take a deep breath and choked as if gasping for air.

“Evan?” Bryce moved beside her. “Evan, I’m here.”

“Aye.” Evan’s eyes half closed. “I … hear her too.” His voice sounded strained.

Akira straightened. She glanced at Bryce, wondering if he would want her to leave now that Evan was awake. But Bryce paid her no heed, watching his brother for signs of recovery.

Evan had been so set against wedding her and bitter against her clan that she feared he would distress himself at the mere sight of her.

“Akira … I was … wrong … about … ye,” he managed to say with great effort.

Her brows wrinkled in a frown. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Ye need yer rest.”

“Yer … voice … sounds like … angel,” he muttered weakly, letting his eyes close again. He lifted his hand and not knowing what else to do, she slipped hers in his.

“Wit-ness … my … words.” He paused to swallow and winced, his face wrinkling in pain. “I name … Bryce … as my … successor.”

“Ye’re clan chief.” The command in Bryce’s voice startled her since he had been so quiet, but the fear in his voice was undeniable. Akira risked glancing at him. His dark eyes were full of concern. She wanted to deny the feelings of sympathy stirring inside her. His black hair fell in disarray where he had been combing his fingers through it. And the circles under his eyes carried the weight of his burdens worse than his strong shoulders.