Highland Escape - Cathy MacRae Page 0,101

he continue this comfort as he emotionally withdrew, or would he turn her over to family for tending?

It didn’t take long to gain her answer. Laying her on the pallet, he took a blanket and covered her. As he sat next to her, Anna watched the twitch of tension in his body. More telling was the cold creeping in, now that he no longer held her.

Fiona pushed through the tent flaps.

“What dammed fool patched up our lady? A blind man could ’ave sewn straighter. There, there, lass. Fiona will see ye right.” The healer cleaned the wound on Anna’s head, then applied an herbal dressing.

“Check her ribs on the right side. I fear they are broken.” Duncan’s voice was low, detached, sparking a deeper chill within her.

Fiona probed her injured ribs and wrapped them tight, allowing Anna to breathe more freely. Producing a brewed tisane from a small kettle, she poured the hot liquid down Anna’s throat as Duncan helped her sit.

Too exhausted and feverish to struggle, Anna allowed them to handle her as they would. Her eyes heavy and burning, never left Duncan, searching for signs of his love she craved so desperately. His stiff actions and rigid body language said everything she needed to know. Too fatigued to mourn her loss, Anna closed her eyes and allowed sleep to bear her away.

Chapter 26

Duncan had seen Anna approach, barely able to stand, supported by Liam, and had never moved so fast in his life. Though she embraced him, he knew something remained amiss. She shivered, her skin scalding hot. He pulled away to look at her and brushed her hair from her face, grazing a wound on the side of her head. Though not large, the wound appeared poorly tended and very angry.

Realizing she was hurt, he’d quickly checked the rest of her. She recoiled as he touched her ribs. Another injury. A cursory check in the dark would not do. Taking her hand, he’d walked her back toward the main tent. She took two unsteady steps before he saw her feet were bare. Enough. He scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way.

Entering the tent, Duncan laid her on a pallet of blankets and furs. He called for food, drink and Fiona, using the lantern light to examine Anna further. Beyond her head, ribs, and a vast assortment of hateful bruises, no other serious injuries appeared. Her eyes told a different story. She ate a small amount, drinking as if the bastard hadn’t given her as much as a drop the entire time he’d imprisoned her.

The lairds arrived and waited until she sated her thirst and regained her composure. The weakness in her voice unsettled Duncan, but the deadness in her eyes was his undoing. Her expressive green eyes always told exactly what she felt. They snapped when angry, blazed with enthusiasm when they sparred, and darkened with passion when they loved. Now her eyes stared lifelessly from her pale, drawn face. He stood frozen, feeling as though someone had carved out his heart with a rusted blade.

As she told her tale, rage rose and licked at his body as though he were staked to a raging bonfire. Anger roiled in equal parts at MacNairn for committing such brutalities and himself for setting the circumstances in motion.

The killing of MacNairn and her daring escape would be talked about for years. When she finished her account, she could no longer speak properly, her voice failing. The lairds took their leave but Duncan had no desire to follow. Anna gazed at him, need heavy in her eyes, and he offered his arms. As she made a movement toward him, he gathered her in, gently rocking back and forth, murmuring reassurances that sounded empty to his own ears. She lay beyond comfort, but he gave what she allowed. He was uncertain how much of this night she would remember—for mercy’s sake, he hoped not much.

Fiona entered the tent and gave Anna a thorough examination, clucking her tongue and muttering against the treatment she’d endured. Duncan lay Anna on the pallet and the healer first tended to her head, mixing an herbal paste to draw out the infection, then bound her ribs. Producing a steeped a tisane, they coaxed Anna to drink.

“How bad is she?” A tremor of fear wavered in his voice.

Fiona cocked her head to the side. “She appears to have cracked two ribs, but I am fashed aboot her head. The fool who tended it did