A Soldier's Salvation (Highland Heartbeats Book 7)(53)

“Phillip Duncan, a man may need my help,” she argued, already mounting a small, black mare. “It’s no more than a day’s ride if we go straight through, is it not?”

“Aye, if it’s just past midday we ought to arrive past midnight if we don’t stop,” Rodric confirmed.

She nodded, turning to Phillip. “I must go. Heather’s looking after Mary. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Sarah, I refuse to allow this!” Phillip blustered.

Caitlin surmised that they were husband and wife. She respected the woman instantly, standing up to such an obviously powerful man as the laird himself.

“I don’t recall asking your permission, as you didn’t ask mine when we first met. Or need I remind you?” She turned her attention to Rodric. “Come. We have no time to lose.”

Yes. Caitlin liked her very much.





25





They rode through the day and into the night, the three of them, hardly stopping for anything but the direst of nature’s needs and the watering of the horses. They exchanged barely a word, concentrating on the ride.

That was more than enough to concentrate on, as the muddy ground and hot, moist air—combined with nonstop riding—made the journey one of the most difficult he’d ever taken. He couldn’t imagine how much more difficult it was for two women, though they seemed to be handling it well.

Always in the back of his mind was his brother.

His brother who he’d never liked much but who was still his blood. They shared a clan, they’d shared a home. So many of his earliest memories involved Alan. As youngsters, they’d even been friends.

Where had they gone wrong? What had changed? Certainly, Alan had been all but impossible to get along with, but they were still brothers. He should have tried to be a better friend to him, to support him a bit more instead of looking down on him as a temperamental, undisciplined, immoral waste.

He might never have the chance to make amends.

For all he knew, he might already be head of the clan.

They rode alongside the River Nevis on the last leg of the journey, the horses all but ready to collapse from exhaustion. “Just a bit more,” he urged, tapping his heels to the beast’s sides and praying in his awkward, unpracticed way that they could make it in time.

It had been so long since he’d prayed, since he’d even felt the need to do so.

He prayed then. As fervently as he ever had.

There were lights in the windows of the house, and he kept his gaze focused on them. Come on, come on, hurry, he silently urged. What was happening inside? There were horses out in front, dozens of them left to their own devices rather than being cared for in the stables. The closer they came to the house, the louder the sound of men’s voices raised in angry protest.

Caitlin shot him a terrified look when they dismounted. She was still somewhat of an outlaw as far as the Andersons were concerned, he supposed.

“Worry not,” he assured her as he took her by the hand, Sarah on their heels.

The house was a flurry of activity, the entry hall packed nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with clansmen. Rodric pushed his way through, pulling Caitlin along with him. As he cut a path, he heard enough to know that Alan was still alive.

At least, according to what the men believed.

The stairs were empty, and he took them two at a time in his haste. So great was his haste, in fact, that he crashed into Padraig as he turned the corner.

His younger brother looked as though he might burst into tears. “How did you know?” he asked, already leading the way down the corridor.

“It’s a long story. I’ve brought a healer.”

Padraig cast a look over his shoulder. “I don’t know if that will help now.” They stopped at the door, and Padraig threw up an arm to block Rodric’s progress. “I must warn you. He is in dire condition. The village healer has done what she can, but I do not think it’s done much good.”

He looked over Rodric’s shoulder to where Sarah stood. “Perhaps you can do more.”

“I’ll do everything I can.” She touched Rodric’s arm. “I must have space in which to assess him, however. I ask that you wait here while I do. You can leave the door open to watch, if you wish.”

He nodded, unable to speak, only grateful that his brother still lived. There could still be a way to save him.

Why he wanted so badly to save Alan was just as much a surprise to him as it would have been to anyone else, he supposed.

Padraig opened the door, revealing a dark room. The curtains hanging in front of the windows were drawn tight. Only a single candle burned by the side of the bed.

Once his eyes adjusted, Rodric made out the shape of his brother’s oversized body stretched out on the bed. He was covered in linen sheets pulled up to his neck, leaving no way of seeing what was beneath.

His eyes were closed, though his head turned from side to side as though he were in the middle of an unhappy dream. Sweat glistened on his brow.

Sarah immediately went to work, washing her hands before drawing back the sheets. He held his breath.

Caitlin gasped, burying her face in Rodric’s arm. He should have warned her of what she might see and smell.

The wounds were infected. Anyone could see it. He’d witnessed the progression of infection more times than he cared to remember. There was no way to forget the way a festering wound looked and smelled, the foulness of it. The red lines which extended from the wound once the infection began to enter the blood.