“May I at least see it, my Laird. My mind will be put tae rest if I can agree on yer assessment.”
Duncan lifted the sleeve and allowed Samuel a cursory glance, before dropping it again. “As I said, nae anything tae be concerned about.”
“Perhaps yer right, my Laird. But I do think, under the circumstances, ye should at least dress it. It is a deep enough cut and ye dinnae want it tae get infected. Besides, I dinnae want the men worrying about yer health when they ought tae be concerned about their own.”
At that moment, Colum entered the Great Hall and on spotting him, Duncan brought their conversation to a close. “I will dae as ye ask, Samuel. For now, I’ll leave ye tae yer work.”
“Aye, my Laird.”
Duncan met Colum halfway across the room. Colum, another strong and capable soldier, was no longer the young man he had saved on that battlefield so many years before. For a long time, the men had teased him, claiming that his fiery and determined demeanor was due to his red curly hair. He had thrown himself into battle to defend the clan he loved, as evidenced by his appearance, which included a torn and blood-splattered shirt—blood that was clearly not his own.
“Is the castle secure?” Duncan demanded.
“It is, my Laird,” Colum replied confidently. “I have men posted on the outer wall as well as at all entry points. If there’s a return, we’ll be alerted.”
Duncan shook his head. “I dinnae think there’ll be a return.”
“How do ye ken, my Laird?” Colum frowned.
“I cannae tell ye, Colum. It’s only a feeling deep in my gut. We’re ready now and when we’re ready, we’re near invincible. This attack,” Duncan looked around him at the wounded men, “was meant tae catch us off guard. It was the only way they were going tae get intae the castle, never mind cause so much damage.”
“Who were they? Why were they attacking us?” Colum asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.
Colum was the war chief's right-hand man. He was aware of any potential battle strategies. He also knew that nothing had been planned or even mentioned to him or the other men. The simple reason for this was that the MacDougall clan was not at war with any other clans or factions. The attack made no sense.
“The truth is, Colum. I dinnae ken. Did ye see any recognizable tartans?”
“They didnae wear any tartans,” Colum shrugged with an expression of bewilderment.
“Exactly. That in itself should tell us something. We ken, at the very least, that this was nae another clan.”
“Well, nae working alone, anyway,” Colum said with consideration. “It could’ve been a collection o’ men from different clans.”
Duncan thought about that and could not entirely disagree. “Ye may be right.”
“But who would want tae invade us and why?” Colum continued, the deep frown returning.
Duncan only shrugged, for again, he did not have an answer to give him.
It was only then that Colum noticed Duncan’s arm. Looking more than alarmed, he pointed to it. “Yer injured, my Laird.”
Duncan shook his head reassuringly. “I’m fine, Colum. I’m away tae take care o’ it. Tomorrow, we will gather the council together and work out what happened here today and how tae respond to it.”
As Samuel had predicted, his men would be worried about his injury. While he hardly wanted to fuss over himself, it was in the best interests of everyone that he tended to it. Duncan needed his men to focus on the task at hand rather than his health, especially since the wound wasn't as bad as it appeared. The thought of having to appease every man he met drove him back to his bedchamber.
When Duncan entered his bedchamber, he came to a halt when he saw Elaine sitting on his bed. He hadn't made plans for her to come see him yet, so her presence there puzzled him. However, as he looked at her, he couldn't help but notice that she appeared flustered, even panicked, and a tirade of reasons for her presence spewed from her lips. He struggled to believe anything she said at the time and quickly came to his own conclusions.
She had just nearly been killed. She looked more than terrified and likely, did not want to be on her own. Maybe she feared the invasion was not entirely over and hiding out in his bedchamber was a safer place than her own. He couldn’t know for certain, nor could he blame her. She was a woman of pleasure, not a soldier. And even though he was yet to discover her reasons for being so very skilled with the sword, at that moment, he felt deeply for how terrified she must have been.
Her excitable disposition was likely the aftereffects of battle. He had experienced it himself many times–a nervous energy that would not let him sit still. Thinking that, and only that, allowed Duncan to swallow his pride when Elaine pressed him to let her examine his wound. She clearly needed to do something to expend such energy, and it would be a kindness to assign her a task that required her full attention.
Though she did do a good job of cleaning and dressing his wound, her touch was tender and gentle. If he had seen to himself, it would have been over far quicker. But as she worked, he gazed upon her. With what needed to yet be done set aside for now, the moment brought with it the impact of what had just occurred. It was not strange to Duncan that the memory of his slaughtered wife and child came to him as he watched Elaine work. Clearly, the stress of seeing her in danger had evoked feelings of fear of losing someone else, someone he had begun to feel for.
Thinking back to her battling those soldiers and what might have happened had he not reached her in time suddenly pained him. He could not stop his mind imagining her lying there on the stone floor of the castle, blood pouring from a wound in her chest as her soul left her body.
Elaine had finished dressing his arm and was asking him a question, but Duncan had not heard her, for he had been lost deep in his thoughts. Pushing himself swiftly from the chair, he moved toward the mantle, memories weighing on his mind. When she came and stood behind him, an overwhelming feeling overtook him. He needed to feel her in his arms. He needed to hold her tightly, to know she was truly safe. The idea of losing another so soon nearly paralyzed him. And though he had tried to grieve for Cora and Eoin, he had not really spoken of them, other than to discover who it was that might have stolen them from him.
He told her then that he was afraid for her life when he saw her fighting the soldiers. She didn't fully understand his feelings because she responded as if he needed her gratitude. But at that moment, he only needed her comfort.