A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,132
door opened. A swell of cold air filled the common room just before a man fell forward. The dogs rushed over from the hearth, barking and sniffing at him.
Tavish hurried to the man as Carrie ran to close the door. Kneeling beside the prone form, Tavish tilted the man’s head and sucked in air through his teeth. Though he was battered and bleeding, there was no mistaking his identity: Dougal Kerr.
Carrie gasped. “Dougal!”
“Where can I take him?” Tavish asked.
“Bring him to my room so ye dinna have ta carry him upstairs.”
Tavish hefted the man into his arms and followed Carrie to a narrow corridor behind the stairs. She went through a doorway to the left, and they stepped into a snug chamber. Tavish deposited Kerr on the bed in the corner.
“I’ll fetch some medicine and cloth.” Carrie gestured to a washbasin against the far wall. “There’s water.”
Kerr groaned as his eyes fluttered open. He tried to focus on Tavish, but his features were creased with fear.
“It’s John MacLean,” Tavish said soothingly. “You made it to Balthazar’s. What happened?”
“There were men.” He closed his eyes once more and lifted his hand to his head. Wincing, he let out a sharp gasp. “Hurts so much.”
“Carrie will be back with something to help you.” Tavish went to the washbasin and found a small cloth there. After wetting it, he returned to the bed and gently dabbed at the worst of Kerr’s wounds—a bleeding gash on the side of his head.
“I thought they were good men,” Kerr rasped, his eyes still closed. “They said they would help Neil too. I asked if they ken ye, and they said they did.”
What the devil? Tavish didn’t work with anyone, especially when it came to assisting Jacobites. Could it have been men he’d helped in the past who wanted to return the favor? That didn’t make sense. His blood went cold—they’d mentioned Neil. They were after Lann Dhearg. They had to be.
Before he could ask, Carrie returned. She shooed Tavish aside as she put the items she’d gathered on the table beside the bed. “Fetch me the washbasin, Mr. MacLean.” She tore strips of cloth and set them on the table as Tavish brought the pottery and put it down next to her implements. There was a bottle and a jar, salve, perhaps.
Tavish handed her the cloth he’d used to dab at Kerr’s head. “Here.”
She didn’t spare a look for Tavish as she took the cloth and set to work cleaning Kerr’s face to the best of her ability. The patient grimaced and moaned, but she worked quickly and efficiently.
“You might consider a new occupation as a healer,” Tavish noted.
Carrie snorted. “As if my father would permit that.” She poured the liquid from the bottle onto a clean cloth, and the scent of witch hazel rose in the air. She applied the medicine to Dougal’s cuts. “Better now?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Kerr opened one eye—the other was beginning to swell shut—and looked up at Tavish. “They want the sword. I heard them talking about it after they thought I was unconscious. They think Neil can lead them to it.”
Dammit. Tavish ran his hand over the side of his neck.
Carrie had picked up the jar of salve and then immediately dropped it. Muttering a curse, she picked it up and removed the lid, setting it on the table.
“How many men?” Tavish asked.
“Three came into the cottage. But there were more outside.”
“Can you tell me exactly what they said about the sword?”
“Ow!” Kerr yelped and Carrie apologized.
Tavish noted her hands were shaking. He recalled what Elspeth had told him. It seemed Carrie knew something. “Carrie, are you all right?” he asked gently.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, indicating she was perhaps not. “I’m not the one who was thrashed.”
He looked back to Kerr. “Have you any idea where the men might have gone?”
“Good question,” Carrie said. “I hope they don’t come here.”
That drew Tavish’s entire attention. “Carrie, is there something you know about these men?” Tavish had a fair idea who they were and would be shocked if she knew them.
She stood, brushing her hands on her apron and glaring at Tavish. “Why would I ken these men? I just don’t want them showing up here. It’s bad for business!”
“Carrie, do you happen to know where Neil Kerr is hiding?”
Her bright green eyes widened, and she darted a look at Dougal, who rose up on his elbow, then promptly fell back on the bed with a groan.