Page 5 of Lady and the Scot

He wondered if she'd seize the opportunity of all the commotion to escape. But moments later, she lowered beside a man who writhed in pain. She took cloths and with swift precision tore them into strips. She then tied several around the man's upper arm and began to clean the injury to his lower arm. He noted she didn't cringe at the gruesome sight; instead she spoke in soft tones to the man who Aiden suspected would lose his arm.

To a warrior, losing a sword arm was worse than death, and Aiden felt bad for the male. He neared to get a better look at the injury. The wounded man looked to him, searching his face as if hoping Aiden would bring good news.

"I will help you keep still so she can tend to you wounds." He lowered and held the man's shoulders. Breena pulled his ravaged flesh together and the man began to shake, his breathing ragged. She looked up at Aiden and then back to the wound. "I am not sure I can stitch it closed, but I will try. First, I will have to bring the bone together. This will hurt."

She dipped her fingers into the wound and the man cried out in pain. Her concerned filled eyes looked to his face. "I'm sorry. But we have to try to save your arm."

The warrior nodded, beads of sweat pouring down his face. "Aye, go ahead."

Aiden was astounded at how calm the woman remained as she set the bones and stitched the wound shut. Her fingers steady, all the while she spoke to the warrior in low tones, keeping his focus on her as much as possible. Once the wound was closed, she motioned for a maid to come and give him a strong dose of whiskey to help dull the pain. "I believe you will heal, but it will take weeks." She picked up her skirts and moved to the next injured man, who had an angry gash to the side of his face.

Aiden stood by as she cleansed the wound and began stitching it. "Where did you learn healing?"

"We do not have peace in the lowland area where I come from." She did not look at him, but kept her focus on the wound. "My clan has battled most of my life. I learned young how to care for the injured." She gave her patient a swift slap on the hand, when he reached to his face. "Don't touch your face. Your hands are grubby and will infect it."

The hapless man gave Aiden a defeated look and lowered his arm. "You are not gentle at all," he grumbled.

"You are correct. I am not," she replied and continued her work.

When she finished, he scanned the area for her guardsmen. It seemed curious that none were about. Neither was Robertson. The man probably still slept off the effects of too much ale. From what the McNeil told him, the man had drank himself into a stupor. He touched Breena's arm. "May I speak to you?"

He followed her to a corner of the courtyard. She looked up at him, her façade strangely calm. Unlike the day before when she'd asked for his help in escaping, today she seemed like a totally different person. "Why did you ask for my assistance in escaping?"

She studied him for a moment, seeming to deduce whether he was friend or foe. "I was upset. Homesick. Acting like a child. It is nothing. I realize it was silly of me to approach a total stranger." As she spoke, her gaze scanned the courtyard.

"I don't believe you."

Her eyes flew back to his face. "It is up to you, of course, to think as you see fit. But you do not know me, sir."

"You are correct in that. But ‘tis easy to see the man with whom you travel mistreats you."

She remained silent, so he took it as a queue that the woman would refuse his offer to help in that moment. "If you need anything, send word. I am Aiden Stuart. I live not too far from here to the south."

"Breena McGalen," she replied and bowed her head. "I must go and see what else needs to be done. Please excuse me, Laird."

So she already knew who he was. He'd not told her he was a laird. Aiden watched the soft sway of her hips as she made her way back to the center of the courtyard.

"Not too many injuries for my men. What about you?" Declan Gordon placed a hand on his shoulder. Aiden searched for his guardsman Calum, who'd fallen off his horse and had to be carried back. He spotted the guardsman standing with a group. "It seems Calum was knocked on the head, but he's fine now."

McNeil lost a man. They crossed themselves. "A young man who'd not much experience."

"It is hard with lack of battle for so long for our men to take battle training seriously. Although this has been a tough lesson, it is a good one for them."

"Aye, I agree." Declan motioned for him to follow. "Come, we must meet with the McNeil. Looks like the Campbell arrives. Word was sent to him to join us."

The older man stopped at the courtyard entrance upon a great steed. Too many guardsmen to fit into the courtyard flanked him. His shrewd eyes took in the scene before him.

He looked to him and the other two lairds. "I came to let you know you have my support and the use of my men. I will join you tomorrow. Send a messenger to let me know where and when."

"We thank you," Liam McNeil bowed to the Campbell who nodded. "You are my neighbors, and my friends. Our clans have coexisted in peace for many years. Any attack on Moriag is an attack on Kilchurn."

After the Campbell left, Aiden joined the other two lairds as they ascended the stairwell into the keep. It was time to plan for any upcoming attacks.

Within moments of settling into a room just a bit smaller than the great room, Robertson deemed to make his appearance. He narrowed his eyes at seeing him and Gordon. "What is the reason for the joining of lairds?" He moved to a sideboard and motioned for a lass to pour him mead. "I imagine ‘tis something of importance."

The McNeil looked to his guest. "Our village was attacked in the wee hours of the morning. I consider an attack to be important, yes." He looked to the other lairds. "This is Creag Robertson, my guest."

Curt nods were given, everyone more focused on dealing with the attackers than the obnoxious man who settled into a chair and watched them with interest.