Page 3 of A Highland Healer Captured
“Then daenae stop me from putting breath back in Ariella’s.” Skylar turned to her father again, pleading. “Da,please. Ye ken what I can do. If I reach her tonight —”
“Ye’ll break yer neck in the crossing.” Hamish’s voice rose, just slightly, the way it did when he was done hearing the same argument three times. “I’ve hauled men from rivers before,Skylar. I’ll nae haul me own daughter’s body from the stones because she thought herself wiser than the storm.”
Skylar’s throat tightened, fury coursing through her veins. She wanted to stamp her foot like a child, to scream that she was no weakling to be coddled. But the sight of her father’s set and grim face, the lines deeper than usual, halted her tongue. He would not bend, not tonight.
Astrid, seizing the silence, pressed forward. “At dawn, ye’ll have proper riders at yer side. Supplies, dry clothes, food in yer saddlebag. Ye’ll go as a Dunlop, nae a mad lass galloping into a flood.”
Skylar’s hands fisted in her skirts. “At dawn,” she repeated, hollow as a church bell.
Hamish softened then, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Aye. At dawn. With me blessing. That’s the best I can give.”
It should have soothed her. Instead, it felt like being bound and gagged while Ariella gasped for air miles away. Skylar forced herself to nod, because she would not shame him in front of his hall. “Thank ye, Da.”
Astrid sagged, keys jingling faintly as she exhaled. “Shioban will pack what ye need from the stillroom. Ye’ll ride well-provisioned.”
Hamish kissed Skylar’s brow, lingering just a moment. “Be ready,” he said.
Later, in her chamber, Skylar laid out the satchel herself, because she trusted no hands but her own when it came to medicine. Honey sealed in wax, sprigs of thyme wrapped in linen, comfrey, willow bark, valerian root, a pinch of foxglove she prayed she wouldn’t need. She rolled fresh bandages, tucked in a small knife, and set her boots by the fire to dry.
Dawn? They wanted me to wait until dawn?
But every instinct screamed that dawn would be too late. She could almost hear Ariella’s ragged breath, the fever burning through her cousin’s rail-thin body.
Skylar pulled her cloak around her shoulders, her decision settling like iron in her chest. “Forgive me, Da,” she whispered. “But I cannae wait.”
She blew out the candles, snatched up her satchel, and slipped into the storm.
The castle’s stones seemed to breathe with her, each step echoing louder than it ought in the dark corridors. Skylar slipped down the stairwell, clutching her satchel, cloak clinging damp to her shoulders. She moved like a thief, though she told herself saints had stolen into worse nights for the sake of the sick.
The postern gate groaned faintly but gave way under her hand. Rain slapped her cheeks as if to scold, cold and hard, needling through cloak and gown in seconds. She hunched into the downpour, boots splashing across the courtyard toward the stables.
Daisy greeted her with a low whicker, tossing her head as though she’d known Skylar would come.
“Aye, lass, I ken,” Skylar whispered, stroking the mare’s damp nose. “We’ve nay leave, but Ariella’s breath cannae wait.”
In moments she had Daisy saddled, the kit strapped tight, and her own pulse hammering louder than the storm. The stable lad stirred from a pile of hay, blinking blearily.
“Lady Skylar? Where in God’s name —”
“Ye never saw me,” she cut in, swinging into the saddle with one practiced motion. “Say it.”
He gawped, then muttered, “Never saw ye,” before Daisy carried her mistress into the rain.
The road stretched like a ribbon of mud and shadow, pine trees bowing beneath the gale. Daisy’s hooves found their footing, steady even as water slicked the stones. Skylar leaned low, the hood of her cloak snapping at her face, the satchel thumping against her thigh.
She murmured her healer’s litany as she rode, half prayer, half inventory. “Honey, thyme, willow, comfrey…” The rhythm steadied her heart. Every step brought her closer to Ariella. Every heartbeat mattered.
Thunder rumbled like giants rolling boulders in the clouds. Lightning split the sky, white for an instant, and the ford’s roar answered from the valley below.
Skylar tightened her hold on the reins.Almost there. Almost.
And then Daisy balked.
The mare’s ears pinned back, hooves skittering on the slick road. Skylar’s head snapped up.
A figure loomed ahead, cut from the storm itself.
For a moment, the night itself seemed to hesitate, holding its breath. Then lightning flashed again, searing bright, and Skylar saw him clear.
