"Erskine was badly wounded," Torrin said.
"Nay," she gasped, her gaze searching among the men and horses pouring into the bailey. Then, she saw Erskine, passed out, on a litter carried by two men. The large makeshift bandage around his abdomen was soaked with blood.
"Oh, saints." She rushed toward them. "Take him into the great hall." Turning, she found a stable lad nearby. "Go get Nannag and take her to the great hall quickly."
"Aye, m'lady." He ran off.
"Was anyone else injured or killed?" she asked Torrin.
"A few cuts and bruises, but naught serious."
That was a relief, but still, Erskine's condition was perilous. He'd lost a lot of blood.
"What of the outlaws?" she asked as they headed inside.
"We killed four of them, but Haldane and McMurdo fled."
Jessie nodded, having mixed feelings about her youngest brother. In order to stop him from his objective, someone would have to kill him. But when that happened, she would be saddened, for he was still her brother.
"By my estimation, Haldane's gang is down to about six men," Torrin said. "They don't stand much of a chance now, unless he hires more men. I'm going to recommend that the MacKays patrol the area in parties of a dozen or so and mayhap they can pick off the rest of them. Haldane wants Dunnakeil, so he won't go far."
***
An hour later, Erskine was resting in a bedchamber. Nannag and her helpers had stitched up his wound and stopped the bleeding. He'd awoken enough to drink a special herbal tea Nannag had prepared.
Jessie prayed he would recover quickly without getting a terrible fever. Leaving the chamber, she found Aiden lurking in the corridor with several others, his head hung dejectedly. Fury at the risk he'd taken and the danger he'd put everyone in burned through her. "I want to speak to you in the library," she told him.
He eyed her warily. "Very well."
"Mind if I join you?" Torrin asked behind her.
She glanced back at him, finding he wore a concerned frown. "Whatever you wish."
Once in the library with the door closed, Jessie asked, "Aiden, what on earth possessed you to slip out? Are you mad? Now Erskine is almost dead because of you. Dirk will be furious."
Aiden pressed his eyes closed. "I ken 'tis my fault but—" He swallowed, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing. "You've never been close to Haldane. You only came back three years ago. He's… my brother. We've been together our whole lives… until last winter."
"I know that," Jessie said, her throat tightening at the emotion in Aiden's voice.
"I was hoping to change his mind… to convince him…" Aiden shook his head. "He wouldn't listen."
"Of course not. He's beyond redemption." Jessie hated to say the words, but Aiden needed to realize the truth, so he wouldn't do something daft again.
Tears glistened in Aiden's eyes and he hung his head.
Torrin placed his hand upon Jessie's shoulder and squeezed gently. She didn't have to look at him to know what he wanted to tell her—to not be so hard on Aiden. Maybe Torrin was right. Aiden did appear exceedingly remorseful.
"I'm glad you were unharmed," she told her brother in a softer tone.
"I'm sorry." Aiden quickly left the room.
Jessie pulled away from Torrin and faced him. "What? Did you wish me to be easier on him? He put the whole clan in danger."
"You're right. I was furious with him, too. But the lad feels terrible. He just wanted his brother back. I can understand that."
Jessie nodded and pressed her eyes closed. "Well, he's right. I was never close to Haldane. We didn't grow up together. And the three years we lived here at Dunnakeil together, we didn't get along. But I've always watched out for Aiden."
"You're close to Dirk, too, are you not?"
"Aye. I'm four years younger than him, and we had the same mother." When she thought of Dirk, she couldn't help but think of her childhood, a time when things were fun and uncomplicated. "When we were small, we spent a lot of time together. Why do you think I like knives so much? I played with him, Keegan, and the lads who were always in mock sword fights. I just wish Dirk was here now to help with all this."
Torrin gave a slight lopsided smile. "You'd make an excellent chief."
She gave a soft snort. "Hardly."
"You're tougher than some men I know."
Her heart leapt at his high praise. "I thank you, but I had to be."
"Why?" With a small frown, he tilted his head.
"Life with my foster family was not easy."
"The Keiths?" he said in a bitter tone.
She nodded. "The daughter closest to my age was a real harpy. She was jealous of everything and everyone. My closest friends were the cook and one of the nursemaids. But I did love Lady Keith. She was warm, welcoming and motherly, very different from my own stepmother." 'Twas really the only mother she had known, other than her own nursemaid when she was a wee lass.
"I'm sorry you had a tough time of it," Torrin said. "Did anyone ever hit you or punish you?"
"Nay, thank goodness. My father visited a couple of times a year to check on me, and he would've been furious with them if they'd beaten me."
"I must have been more of a hellion than you were, then," he said.
"Why? Were you punished?"
"Aye, my father used a leather strap—or his fists—on me… and my younger brother."
It pained her to imagine an older, bigger man beating a young Torrin. She could never understand why some parents were abusive. If she had children, she would likely spoil them. "What did you do to deserve that?"
He shrugged. "I can't even remember. He simply enjoyed hurting people. Not just us but the servants, too. Sometimes he would say 'twas how he was going to make hardened warriors out of us."
She shook her head, his story and his sad expression breaking her heart. "'Tis terrible. What of your mother?"
"She died when I was ten summers," he said in a matter-of-fact tone that had to be concealing deep emotion.
"I'm sorry to hear of it." She knew the void and emptiness of not having a mother, but she had not known hers. To lose a mother at ten must have been the worst.
"I was away, fostering with the Stewarts at the time," he said. "I didn't even get to attend her funeral. Da sent a missive, and that was that. When I returned home a year later, Ma simply wasn't there anymore."
"'Tis tragic," Jessie whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
"'Twas long ago." Trying to shove the emotion aside, Torrin paced to the fireplace, knelt and stirred the coals with the iron poker, then added a brick of peat. 'Twas summer, but with gloaming, the room had grown chill. Thinking about his past always made him crave cozy warmth, for much of his childhood had been emotionally cold.
He didn't know why he'd opened up so much to Jessie. Mayhap because he felt so comfortable with her. He'd revealed more to her about his past than he had anyone in years. But he must forget his past misfortunes and concentrate on the future. His future with Jessie—if she would have him.
"I thank you for rescuing Aiden," she said behind him. "That means more to me than I can say."
Torrin stood and faced her. "You're welcome. He told us on the way back that Haldane had planned to use him to force us to open the gates."
"Of course. Haldane cares naught for him, or anyone, but himself."
Torrin nodded. "I believe Aiden sees the truth of it now."
"I'm sorry to ask, but would you be willing to stay until Erskine recovers or Dirk and Keegan return. I know naught about how to lead a clan, especially during conflict such as Haldane has stirred up. The guards may need your advice and guidance about how to handle it. Of course, there is Uncle Conall and the clan elders who will have their say in all matters, but they cannot lead the men into battle."