Page 103 of My Notorious Highlander

Torrin pushed himself up, but when he stumbled, Iain helped him stand. He ripped the fabric of his shirt where it was sliced to better see the cut. "'Tis not as bad as the other one," Iain said. "But we need to get you to Munrick quick so the healer can stitch you up. We're only a couple of miles away."

"Aye," Torrin said, suddenly going lightheaded.

Sim found Torrin's horse and led him forward. Pain lancing through his leg and his back, Torrin examined the cut to the horse's flank. It had bled some but was not terribly deep. He believed the horse would recover.

Agony bore through him, making mounting seem an impossible task. Dizziness assailed him and he caught against the horse and saddle. The bandage on his thigh felt saturated with hot blood.

"Struan!" he shouted at his sword-bearer, and though he tried to hold onto the saddle to keep upright, he felt himself sliding to the ground as all around him went black.

∞∞∞

Torrin dreamed he was searching for Jessie in the night. Someone had stolen her away, MacBain or Haldane, he wasn't sure which. But all was dark, and he couldn't see. He couldn't find her.

"Jessie!" he yelled.

A strong hand on his shoulder pushed him back. "Torrin. She's not here right now."

"Iain?"

"Aye."

"Where is she?" Torrin opened his eyes to see that he lay in his own bedchamber at Munrick, a few candles lighting the dark room.

"Still at Dunnakeil."

Burning pain consumed his leg and his lower back. The skirmish. He remembered killing MacBain.

"You lost too much blood in a short amount of time," Iain said. "You were not fully recovered from your earlier injury when you got these."

"Aye." He well knew that, but was he going to survive? Would he ever see Jessie again? He slid down into the darkness yet again.

Chapter Seventeen

At Dunnakeil, Jessie forced herself to eat supper at the high table. Though her family and friends surrounded her, she was intensely lonely. Torrin had been gone four days, and she missed him terribly.

One of the guards rushed across the great hall to the high table. "The MacKay guards who went south with MacLeod are returning. We saw them in the distance," he told Dirk.

"Why are they coming back so soon?" Dirk shoved up from his chair and strode quickly across the great hall with the guard. Several others followed, including Jessie and Isobel. Was Torrin returning, too? What had happened? The MacKays had planned to travel south with Torrin to show him where Nolan was buried. They wouldn't have had time to do that.

When the soldiers rode through the portcullis, she was shocked to see two dead bodies, completely wrapped in plaid including their heads, lying stiff and straight, tied to the horses' backs. A cold chill shook her, and tears filled her eyes.

"Who is this?" Dirk demanded, motioning to the dead bodies. "What happened?"

"Henry and Ross," Dougal said, his blue eyes pain-filled. "MacBain and his clan attacked us just this side of Munrick. 'Twas a terrible skirmish. One of the MacLeods was killed, too."

Nay! Jessie hurried forward. "Who?"

"The one they called Luag. Chief MacLeod was injured badly."

Icy fear poured through her. "Nay," Jessie whispered. Isobel put an arm around Jessie and held her close.

"MacLeod has two wounds and lost more blood. Iain told us that he was out cold for most of the night while we were there, and he has a fever."

Devastation crashed in upon Jessie, making her feel as if she were suffocating. "Saints," she hissed, her heart breaking. Tears filling her eyes, she felt herself trembling, but was unable to stop. She was so far away from him when he needed her.

"We killed eleven of the MacBains," Dougal continued. "Chief MacLeod killed Gregor MacBain."

Jessie pressed her eyes closed. She was glad that bastard MacBain was dead, but more importantly, she had to see Torrin. Having so many severe injuries only weeks apart might be more than his body could deal with.