Page 78 of Highlander's Wild Lass
Celestia took it from him and held it to her face where she had felt the hat scratch her. She instructed him to return to their distillery, to swap the cart out for their own horses for the journey back to Castle Ferguson.
17
Something was wrong.
Anthony glanced at the long-case clock for what had to be the thousandth time. He expected her back late, but not this late.
“Somethin’s wrong,” Anthony said, looking to Sebastian who was sitting with his leg resting on his knee across from him. They were in the large sitting room just off from the foyer.
“Should we tell Auralia and the lads?”
“Nay,” Anthony said, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks. “There’s nay need to worry them if nothin’ is truly amiss.”
Their tutor arrived today, and they were eager to start lessons. All three of the younger McLean’s were blissfully unaware of the panic going on inside Anthony as they sat in the library with their pieces of parchment and quills.
“They’re here!” One of the grooms who had been instructed to alert him the moment Celestia and Jacob arrived rushed into the sitting room. “They’re here, m’laird,” he repeated at a lower volume, his flat cap bunched into his hands.
Anthony and Sebastian dashed past him to the courtyard. Grannus and Jacob’s horses were coming to stop just as they stepped onto the flagstones.
“What took ye so long?” Anthony nearly shouted. “I expected ye back before supper—” He watched Celestia swing down from the saddle. “—What in God’s name happened to yer face?”
He stepped toward her, gently lifting her chin so he could inspect the cuts on her face. There was a long gash, not very deep, but it had crusted over with old blood. And there were several smaller red cuts all over the left side of her face.
“Celestia,” he said again, trying to calm the several warring emotions that were fighting for purchase within him. “What happened?”
She reached to grab his hand away from her, her sleeves falling back, exposing the red bruises that started to form around the delicate skin of her wrist. “I’m alright, Anthony.”
“Ye are nae, lass,” he said, his hands gingerly inspecting her wrist. He saw Jacob stepping up behind her and he raged toward him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. “What happened?”
He sounded stupid repeating the same question over and over again but he wasn’t getting answers from Celestia.
“Let go of him. None of this was his fault.”
Anthony released Jacob, swiveling his head between the two of them. Celestia had her hands on her hips, but the only thing he could see was the bruises and the cuts and how spooked she looked underneath the brave face she wore.
“Truly,” she said firmly. “It was all my fault.”
She turned to Sebastian. “Will ye see that Jacob is well fed before he heads to his parents?” She looked at Jacob. “Unless ye are too tired, ye can sleep in my old room, the bed is still made up.”
“Oh, nay,” Jacob said hurriedly. “I’ll be on my way after I eat somethin’.”
Celestia nodded and Sebastian led Jacob toward the kitchens.
“Celestia, please. Tell me what happened to ye,” Anthony said, but it sounded as if he was begging.
“I will,” she said, taking hold of his hand, and pulling him along with her into the castle. “I just need to see my Da. Where is he?”
“His room. Helena is with him.”
They arrived at Mr. McLean’s room, the door ajar and quiet mutterings filtering out of it. A sense of dread filled him and when Celestia pushed in, they saw Helena near Mr. McLean’s bedside along with the priest that married them.
“Da?” Celestia slid in between Helena and the priest. “What’s wrong? What’s goin’ on?”
“Oh, lass,” Mr. McLean wheezed, reaching out for her hand. His eyes focused on Celestia’s cheek. “How did ye get those cuts?”
“Never mind that, Da,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “Why’s the priest here?” Her eyes, fearful, skated over the priest to Anthony to Helena and then back to Anthony.
There was a sharp pain in the back of Anthony’s throat watching his wife come to the realization that her father was near death. The priest must be there to hear Brannan’s last confession, or already heard it—Anthony couldn’t be sure.
