Page 5 of A Fierce Archer

It was the question he’d been asking himself since he’d spoken to the laird. “I am not sure as yet. It is probably best that I return north.”

His cousin, Laird Malcolm Ross, would put him to work and allow him to provide a good life for himself. As much as Ewan detested the idea of asking for help yet again, he wasn’t ready to return to Uist.

“Ye are not ready for work as yet,” Broden said, studying him with a flat expression. “Whoever cut ye, did not like ye at all.”

“Tell me what happened,” Ewan said. “I do not remember anything of that day.”

Broden nodded. The man was almost as tall as him, but slimmer. The warrior had seemed to dislike him since Ewan’s arrival. However, at the moment, Ewan didn’t have time to figure out why.

As head guard, Broden didn’t treat him any differently than the others, and yet Ewan sensed that the man did not care for him in the least.

“We rode out to the farm,” Broden said as he walked toward the guard buildings and Ewan fell into step beside him. It hurt to walk, but he managed to keep up. Admittedly, Broden walked slower than usual.

“Each of us rode in separate directions and returned to the same spot at the sun being directly above. After looking about the farm, my group and I headed to a different farm. I was told by yer guardsmen that when ye all were heading back here, ye took a different route.”

“Did I give an explanation?”

Broden’s grayish gaze met his. “Not to me, or anyone else. No one was aware of yer new path until ye were brought back here by the hunters.”

As the head guard had retold what had happened, small pictures formed in his mind. Perhaps the healer was right, and both his memory and eyesight would return to normal as he healed.

They’d come to a stop and Broden motioned toward the keep. “Ye look about to drop. Return to the keep. I do not have time to tend to ye.”

Although annoyed at the man’s tone, Ewan turned away and trudged back to the keep. Once he sought a meal, he would return to bed and rest. As much as he hated idle time, Ewan was well aware that rest was the best healer.

Just as he entered the great room, he noticed several women sitting around a table at the far end of the room. Immediately, he knew Catriona was among them. Whenever the woman was out of her bedchamber, she sat at the same table. Positioned beside the fireplace, it was warm there, and protected by two walls. No one could approach the table without being seen.

The men knew better than to approach her, although some had done so without issue. However, one time, a man had approached and Catriona’s reaction had been alarming. The man, who’d been a visitor, remembered Catriona from childhood and had neared to greet her. A startled Catriona had fallen to the floor and, while screaming, had scurried to the corner next to the fireplace where she’d cowered. It had taken the laird’s wife a long while to coax her to move and get her away and to the safety of her bedchamber.

It was days before Catriona had emerged once again.

When Ewan lowered to sit at a nearby table, he felt the gaze of the women. Ignoring the pointed looks, he waved a servant over and asked for food.

“What are ye doing out of bed?” The slight hoarse tone in Catriona’s voice was like a soft balm to his entire being. That she’d walked over to him was stunning. He looked past her to the table to confirm his reaction. Four sets of rounded eyes met his.

“I am hungry. Once I eat, I will return to bed,” Ewan replied, forcing an annoyed tone to his response. “Besides, I am not sure I can stand up right now.”

He didn’t look directly at her, not wishing to alarm her. Instead, he bowed his head. In truth, the pain was growing increasingly worse. “Perhaps someone should help me to bed,” he grunted.

“Young man.” Lady Fraser neared. “Whatever are ye thinking to be out and about so soon after being cut through? Ye must go to bed at once.”

“He cannot move,” Catriona replied for him. To Ewan’s shock, her hand pressed to his forehead. “He is feverish.”

Lady Fraser tsked. “Of course, he is. The wound is fresh...and bleeding.”

Ewan looked down to find that blood had seeped through the fabric of his tunic and he moaned. “This is one of my new tunics.”

“Up with ye,” Catriona said as he was lifted from the chair by guards who’d probably been motioned forward by Lady Fraser.

At the movement, he cried out in pain. The room swayed and he gulped in air. It was as if the breath were taken from his body and he could not take any in.

“Call the healer,” someone said. The lack of ability to breath took precedence and he concentrated on not passing out when pain ripped through his body as the guards carried him to a bed.

***

Time passed, whether quickly or slowly, Ewan had no idea. Voices and faces came in and out of focus until he finally gave up trying to recognize what was happening. Feverish, he went from shivering to being so hot that he begged for water. Ewan recognized he was very ill and prayed that he would live.

Then everything stopped. Perhaps a day had passed, or even two, he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that seeing the beautiful woman standing at the window peering out was the loveliest scene to wake to.