Anna took in MacGregor the Younger. He appeared to be a few inches taller than she, arms and shoulders thick with muscle. His uncovered legs appeared as big around as her waist. Sable hair, tied at the back of his neck, reached his shoulders, curling at the ends. His eyes, the lightest blue she could recall, bored through her when he shifted his stare from his father to her.
She swallowed uneasily.
He and his father wore the blood of their enemies liberally on skin and clothing. Knowing the young woman was his sister explained the ferocity with which he fought to reclaim her. It did not explain, however, why Anna was being detained.
“Aye. Ye will come with us.”
The laird mounted his horse, picked up his daughter and placed her on the front of his saddle. He then rode back across the field. Another man did the same with the other girl.
The younger man faced her. “I am Sir Duncan MacGregor, the laird’s son. Ye will hand over yer weapons and ride with us. It can be done willingly, or ye can fight. The choice is yers.”
With a hard look, Anna unbuckled her sword sheath and removed the two daggers from her belt. She then tugged each dagger from her boots, handing them with a growl to the men who approached.
“Will I be allowed to ride, sir?” she asked with as much venom as she dared.
Duncan motioned for her horse. “Aye, the laird put ye in my charge. Ye will ride.”
Taking Orion’s reins, he indicated she mount. As they headed toward the battle site, she noticed a man speaking with Laird MacGregor, arms flailing, clearly angry.
“He is my brother, laird. ’Tis my right to demand a challenge!”
The laird glanced at Anna then back at the fuming man in front of him, reluctantly nodding his head. “Set camp. See to the wounded first.”
So, the brother to the man I knifed demands the right to avenge his injury. Anna’s blood boiled. Never mind that he’d disobeyed his laird’s orders. He cannot believe ’twas done by a woman, she mocked. His rage suddenly made her weary. It was not the first time a man wished to kill her. She shrugged. He will join the ranks of others who have tried. The only question is, dead or wounded?
“’Tis what I get for being of assistance.” She didn’t realize she’d spoken loud enough to be heard, but MacGregor the Younger gave a twitch of a smile at her complaint.
Men set up tents, built fires and gathered the wounded.
“Sir, I am trained as a healer, if I may offer aid,” she said as Duncan tied her horse to a nearby tree.
He eyed her suspiciously. “Why would ye assist my men if ye believe yerself our prisoner?”
A good question. Why indeed? “Am I correct in assuming these men were injured rescuing two young women kidnapped by a raiding party?”
He gave a short nod in response.
“Then helping men who were injured putting a stop to such a barbaric practice is reason enough.” The opportunity to tend to the wounded drowned out her anger—for now.
Cocking his head slightly, he crooked one corner of his mouth at her response. “A fair answer. We have a tent and some supplies. Do ye require aught else?”
Dismounting, Anna pulled her bag from Orion’s back. “Boiling water and whisky if you can spare it.”
“Fetch water from the burn and set it to boiling,” Duncan ordered one of the men tending the fire. He stared hard at her as if trying to assess the truthfulness of her answer. Anna stood fixed as his gaze penetrated her. After a few unnerving moments of forceful scrutiny, he strode toward the tent.
Opening the flap, Duncan motioned for her to enter. As soon as she did, the stench of impending death struck her. Supplies sat on the ground between two pallets with injured men already on them; they appeared to be the worst of the injured. One man suffered a deep belly wound, the source of the acrid smell. The other bore a long slash down one leg.
Anna spoke quietly to Duncan. “Sir, this man is not likely to survive. I will make a poultice to staunch his wound and give him poppy tea for the pain.”
Duncan nodded as a man brought in a pot of steaming water and whispered to him while Anna went about her work.
Finishing with the stomach injury, she turned to the leg wound. Using waxed silk thread and a rounded needle, she closed the extensive gash.