“The MacLeod prisoner. We think he’s dead or dyin’.”
She’d known what Adair was going to say before he said it, just as if she’d already heard the words inside her head.
“What happened to him?” Had he been attacked again? Och, by heaven!
But Adair shook his head. “We do no’ ken. He did no’ want his supper. Was after asking for ye. Tam said we should check on him. When we went in, he lay there covered wi’ blood.”
The wound had reopened. That awful wound would kill him after all.
Apologetic, Adair went on, “We ken ye said ye’d no’ treat him any longer, and we should send for Master Preslan, but Tam said ye were the best one to save him.”
God bless Tam.“I’ll come. Give me a moment.”
She did not bother to dress, merely tossed on her cloak over her night rail. She threw items into her basket with frantic hands. She and Adair went out into the dark.
It must be the middle of the night. No one stirred except, presumably, those on watch up on the battlements.
What had made Leith’s guards check on him? If they’d left him to lie till morning…
A torch flared outside the cowshed. Tam sprang to life when he saw Rhian. “Mistress, if ye’d rather we call Master Preslan—”
“Nay. Ye did right calling me. Bring a torch inside. I will need a good light.”
She smelled the blood as soon as she went in. Leith lay on his pallet with the blanket drawn up to his chest. She hurried up and set her basket down with trembling hands.
Och, and he looked dead. Eyes closed and face pale in the flaring light, he lay with one arm folded across his breast, keeping the blanket close as if against the cold. Both blanket and pallet were soaked with blood.
They had brought her too late. But nay, nay, he breathed yet.
“How long has he been like this?”
“We do no’ ken, mistress. Master Preslan saw him earlier, and we brought him his supper. Ye can see he did no’ touch it.” Adair repeated apologetically, “He did ask for ye earlier, but we ken ye said ye would no longer treat him.”
Rhian cursed under her breath.
Tam, who held the torch, took up the tale. “I was about to go off shift, mistress, when I got a feeling—it was too quiet. He was too quiet. I thought I would take a wee look just to see, even though it made sense he would be sleeping.”
“’Tis well ye did.”
“Why is he bleeding so much?”
“’Tis a deep wound that refuses to close.”
“Will he die?”
Did this man of middle years, one of Alasdair’s most dependable men, care? Rhian glanced into Tam’s face and thought maybe he did. “I canna tell.”
“Aye well,” Adair said, “’twill solve a few problems if he does.”
That it would. But Rhian meant to fight for Leith. Fight like a lioness if she had to.
Tam asked, “D’ye need any help lifting him, maybe? D’ye want us to call another healer?”
“Nay. You help me, Tam. We maun strip this sodden clothing off him. I will change the bandages, see if I can stop the bleeding.”
Leith had moved around far too much. Had she not told him to keep still? Stubborn man.
Adair went out. Rhian and Tam worked in silence. She welcomed the guard’s brawn in shifting Leith’s big form, and appreciated that he kept mum. Let her think. Concentrate on what needed to be done.
