Page 97 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
Pushing all the logistics out of his mind, he picked up the reins and drove them back to Gunn Castle. He silently prayed that someone had already picked up his father-in-law from the side of the road and they were not about to come upon him. His wife did not need to see that.
After they were a few minutes away, he murmured, “Ye can open yer eyes.”
He watched as those blue eyes popped open and stared straight ahead, unseeing.
“He’ll be all right, lass. He’s a strong one,” Magnus whispered, taking his wife’s hand in his own and giving it a squeeze.
Ciara didn’t return the motion, but she didn’t draw her hand away either.
“I hope so,” was her only response.
* * *
Ciara continued to stare straight ahead as the carriage trundled back to Gunn Castle. She wanted to see each step of this journey, wanted to see each turn they made.
She wondered if she’d ever be able to sit in the back of a carriage again. If… if anything happened to her father, she didn’t think so.
Alexander was there, he would have made sure he was all right.
Her brother had stayed back with their father, had potentially sacrificed her in order to save him, so that could not be in vain.
Faster and simultaneously slower than she wished, they arrived back at her father’s castle. The courtyard was eerily empty, and it filled her with a sense of foreboding.
Without waiting for Magnus, or for the carriage to come to a complete stop, she jumped out of the driver’s seat and raced towards the door.
“Me Lady, follow me!” one of the servants called as soon as she was inside the castle, Magnus a few steps behind her.
They followed the servant to the healer’s room, where her whole family was gathered around her father, whose eyes were closed.
She choked out a sob, and her mother and siblings whipped their heads around at the sound.
“Ci, thank God ye’re all right,” Alexander said, rushing towards her.
Lana rose from her seat, too, her tears steadily falling as they all met by the door. After a quick embrace, Alexander went to shake Magnus’s hand, but Ciara’s attention was focused on her mother and father.
Lady Gunn didn’t rise, staying seated next to her husband, his hand in hers. Her red-rimmed eyes stared back at Ciara, and she gave a weak smile.
“I’m so glad to see ye safe, Ciara,” Lady Gunn said.
Ciara wrapped an arm around Lana as she assessed the scene. Blood-soaked rags littered the floor, and the healer had all sorts of tinctures out on the counter. She swallowed another cry and felt her stomach churn.
Forcing herself to look back at her father, she ran her gaze over his ashen skin and his closed eyes. Her eyes narrowed on the bandage over his stomach, already becoming soaked with dark red blood.
Guilt ate at her as she stared at the precarious state of her larger-than-life father. If they hadn’t tried to come save her, if she hadn’t dropped the damned handkerchief, and if she hadn’t distracted him, this never would have happened. Her father would be smiling and laughing with her mother right now, not fighting for his life. While she could see his chest rising and falling, it certainly wasn’t steady.
With a fortifying breath, she turned to the healer. “Is he…” She couldn’t get the question out the first time. “Is he all right?”
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” the healer answered, “but he’s stable. It may take him a while to recover, but he should be all right.”
Ciara released a heavy breath, and some of the weight lifted off her shoulders. Nothing was certain, but she would keep those words with her and hope. She needed her father to be all right. She couldn’t picture this clan without him, nor could she imagine her family without him.
“Thank ye,” Magnus said to the healer, who left the room then.
But Ciara wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the rest of her family.
They all stood huddled around the table. No one spoke. The only sounds were Lana’s occasional sniffles. As they stood guard, her father’s eyes shot open.
“Where is Ciara?” Laird Gunn croaked.
