asked Connor. When he nodded, Duncan took the tooth-marked strip of leather from Ilysa's basket of medicines and put it between Connor's teeth.
Ilysa exchanged glances with the others, then took a deep breath and willed her hands not to shake. The arrow was deep, and it was barbed, so she had to work carefully. Thankfully, Connor passed out long before she finished.
After she cut out the arrow, Ilysa cleaned the wound thoroughly with whiskey and covered it with the poultice. Then she did the same with the arrow in his thigh. The three men were skilled at dressing battle wounds, so she sat down on the bench next to the table while they wound strips of linen around Connor's chest, looping the cloth under his left arm and over his right shoulder.
Now that it was over, a wave of nausea hit her, and she leaned forward to rest her forehead on the table. She slipped her hand into Connor's. When he was so badly injured the last time, she had washed his naked body with cool cloths to break his fever. Somehow, holding his hand now felt more intimate.
Ach, she was pathetic. She sat up and gazed at his face, which was eased of worry for once. Though his looks were the least of what drew her to him, a lass would have to be dead not to notice how handsome he was. He had scars all over his body, attesting to battles and attempts on his life, but his face was unmarked. He was perfect, an Adonis with black hair and silvery blue eyes.
Since Connor returned from France to find his father and brother dead and their clan near ruin, he had devoted himself with single-minded determination to restoring the clan's lands and making their people safe. If he lived long enough, he would be one of the great chieftains, the kind the bards told stories about. Whatever Ilysa could do to help him, she would.
"Connor will be fine," Ian said, squeezing her shoulder. "Ye did well."
"Let me see to that cut on your arm." Ilysa chastised herself for daydreaming while Ian needed tending and pushed up his bloody sleeve. "Looks like an arrow grazed ye."
"'Tis nothing," Ian said.
Ilysa rolled her eyes and set to work on it. "Connor's wounds are deep and will bear watching," she said for her brother's benefit. "He'll need a healer to travel with him to Trotternish."
"There must be healers in Trotternish," Duncan said.
"None that we can trust," she said as she tied the bandage around Ian's arm. "A healer wouldn't even have to poison him, though she could. 'Tis easy to let a wound go bad."
* * *
It should have been a clean kill.
Lachlan mulled over what went wrong as he waited at the meeting point for Hugh's galley, which would take him back to Trotternish. He had wasted his first arrow on the wrong man. When the rider entered the clearing, he fit the description Lachlan had been given: a tall warrior near Lachlan's age with a rangy build and hair as black as a crow. Fortunately, the man's horse had jerked to the side and saved his life. Lachlan was relieved he had only winged him. He did not make a practice of killing men who did not deserve it.
As soon as the next man charged his horse into the clearing, Lachlan realized his mistake. He could not have said why, for the two looked much alike, but he had known immediately that the second man was the chieftain. There was something about him that bespoke his position as leader of the clan.
Odd, how the chieftain had ridden directly into Lachlan's range when he saw the arrow strike his companion. Connor MacDonald had not hesitated, not spared a glance behind him to look for someone else to do it.
It was the chieftain's unexpected willingness to put the life of one of his men before his own that had caused Lachlan to falter, just for an instant, and send his next arrow into the chieftain's thigh instead of his heart. Lachlan recovered quickly, and his third arrow struck the chieftain in the chest, though it may have been too high to kill him.
Next time, he would not falter.
* * *
The four men were in deep discussion when Ilysa slipped into the chamber with a tray. She glanced at Connor, who had no business being out of bed a day after he was wounded. Though he hid his pain well, she saw it