Highlander's Embrace

Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Elyn

1540 — August 31st

The MacDonalds congregated in the spare room that Elyn was resting in. The arrow hadn't cut her very deep, only grazing her skin and making the injury look far worse than it was. The most skilled healer was brought in to treat her, and he was able to free the arrow from her side and bandage her up. The cream colored cloth was wound tightly around her stomach, but she seemed to be in much better spirits after been given some rest and some tea.

In between bouts of sleeplessness and pain, Elyn rolled in the bed and in her daze swore she recalled someone standing over her. Not the healer, but a strange man, with maddening eyes. He reached out to grab her arm, but when she backed away and blinked, he had disappeared. A vision and nothing more.

When Moira and Richerd came into the room to visit her, she brushed away the strange dream as a feverish symptom of her pain.

The MacDonalds saw their daughter for the first time in twenty years. Elyn's eyes bounced between the two, hopeful excitement welling up and making her tear up. Moira collapsed down on her knees and cried, too grateful for words.

"My daughter, I can't believe you're actually here, you're actually alive," Richerd said quietly. He gave her hand a squeeze and looked her over. "You've grown to be so beautiful, with your mother's red hair."

Elyn tried to smile and raise herself to her elbows. Richerd urged her to rest.

"No, I cannae. Where is Gavin? I need to see him."

Her father frowned. "He's already left to lead the charge against the Maxwells."

"With who?"

"Mathou, one of our best swordsmen. He was in charge of the — "

"The man in the throne room? With the dark hair?"

"Aye, that's him."

Elyn's heart sank at the realization. She couldn't pin where she had seen him before until that moment. Then it struck her like a flash of lightning.

"No! I have to go with him! I can't stay here!" Her mind whirled. She tried not to think of him heading back and getting killed. Her highlander. The man she had first met dressed in nothing but a cloak. Who could hardly fish. She didn't get the chance to utter those three magic words to his face, to watch his eyes light up.

She threw the sheets off herself and winced in pain as she sat up. She dangled her legs off the bed, to the shock of Moira and Richerd. "What did I say? You have to stay!" Richerd commanded.

"No! I donae. I'll have plenty of time to rest and trade stories of our lives, but I have to be with Gavin, I have to help him. You donae know what you've done!" She couldn't believe she was mouthing off so much to her Da, after having just met him. She couldn't get into an argument now though, not when time was so short. She hopped down to her feet and nearly stumbled over in pain, her hand reflexively going to her injury and bracing it. She hobbled over to the chair nearby and threw on her furs and cloak again, making sure everything was snug. She laced the string especially tight around her side, hoping to ebb the throbbing sensation that coursed through her every time she dared move. She brushed past Richerd and Moira, trying to ignore their stunned faces.

"That man, Mathou, is one of Maxwell's men," she explained.

"You can't possibly—," Moira said, grabbing Elyn's wrist to try and stop her. Elyn wrested her arm from her grasp and stared her down.

"Where are the stables? I need a horse, I need to go now."

She remembered the man's face that she saw in the throne room. The same one in her dream. Those angry eyes were burned into her memory. The same man who called after her when she escaped from Eilean Donan's village the night of the attack. That Sheena had slowed down enough for Elyn to escape.

Without a doubt in her mind, Gavin was in grave danger. She couldn't be sure if he would strike immediately, or wait until the shroud of battle to lay the betraying blow. She could only be sure he wasn't trustworthy.

She climbed atop the fastest steed in the MacDonald stable and dashed out the city gates, charging down the road as fast as she could. Every thundering gallop made her side throb with deep pain. She pushed it away by imaging Gavin tending the wound, his gentle hand redressing her bandage and bathing her. Taking her as his bride.

The highlands were bright that afternoon, with a cold wind gusting across the unkempt grasses, pushing at Elyn's back. She felt invigorated, as if the highlands were guiding her. All of Scotland was at her back, pushing her forward and urging her to save it all from collapse.

Dark clouds coiled on the southeastern horizon, threatening to burst. Elyn was sure the man wouldn't kill Gavin just yet. Perhaps he'd wait until the chaos of the battle to make his move. It'd be easy to pin it on anyone else then, and maintain his position among the MacDonald troops. Then he could just claim she was hysterical, if he had to. She couldn't let that happen.