Page 56 of Only a Highlander Will Do

Fiona hurried to her father’s side where he had crumpled upon his release from the hook overhead. She pressed her hand against his wound. Trying to staunch the bleeding. “Father?”

He did not respond.

Closer to the door now and with no one to stop him, Alex bolted up the stairs.

Tormod hesitated. His gaze shot to Fiona’s.

“Go. I can take care of my father and Rowena.”

His sword in his hands, Tormod disappeared.

With her sgian-dubh, Fiona cut the gag that covered Rowena’s mouth. “Are you unharmed?”

“I think so.” Rowena sat up and rubbed her wrists. “Your father is not so lucky.” She reached down and tore off a length of fabric from the hem of her dress and when Fiona removed her hand from his wound, Rowena pressed the cloth against the older man’s side. “Can we save him?”

“I don’t know.” With her heart in her throat, Fiona lifted her father’s head into her lap. “Father,” she whispered, stroking the matted strands of grey hair away from his brow. When he didn’t respond, her heart missed a beat. Had they delayed too long? Her chest tightened and her shoulders doubled over under the weight of her grief. A single sob escaped her lips.

“Don’t . . . cry.” The brittle sound of her father’s voice caused her heart to soar.

“Father.”

His head turned to the sound of her voice. His eyes were slits he struggled to open. “Shouldn’t have . . . borrowed funds.”

“Hush,” Fiona murmured, placing her hand over his chest. Beneath her fingers she could feel the thready beat of his heart. “None of that matters any longer.”

He brought a trembling hand up to rest atop hers. Their fingers grew red with blood. New tears sprang to Fiona’s eyes at the sight of his bloody, mangled fingers.

“What has Alex MacDonald done to you?” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him.

Her father stirred in her arms.

“What can I do? How can I save you?” Her gaze moved to the sleeve of her tunic, then she tightened her arms around him. “If this garment holds any kind of fairy magic, I pray that it works now.” In her mind she pictured the entrance to the Fairy Cave, and the seals on the shores of Loch Dunvegan. “Please, I beg you not to let him die like this. Heal my father. Help me continue to believe in fairy magic.”

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, falling onto her father’s face, mixing with the smears of dirt and blood upon his cheeks.

He patted her hand. “My daughter.” He drew a long, ragged breath. “I should have . . . treasured you more.” His voice faded as he struggled for another breath.

She wiped her hand on her tunic, then brought her fingers up to caress his jaw. The jaw that had seemed so strong to her all her life now trembled and looked too pale.

His eyes opened. He glanced into her face, his gaze tender. “I was so caught up . . . in my anger. I’m . . . sorry. I always . . . loved you.”

She smiled down at him, forcing her tears to stop. “I love you, too.”

“Must . . . go.” He coughed, blood splattering from his mouth onto his chin.

Unshed tears burned her throat. “Nay,” she pleaded, smoothing his cheek. “Stay with me.”

“Be . . . happy . . . with the MacLeod.” He coughed again and struggled for each breath of air that filled his lungs.

James and Agnes MacDonald burst through the doorway with blankets and bandages in their hands.

“Don’t talk. Help is here. We can save you,” she pleaded.

Her father’s head wobbled side to side. “Too . . . late.” His breathing slowed. His body sagged in her arms.

“Father.” Her voice was raw with pain. “Stay with me.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Not afraid.” His eyes closed and his head lolled to the side, his last breath rattling out.