The poor Highlander moaned and grunted as the burly man trudged through the servants’ entrance and up the narrow rear stairs. Divana took a moment to stop in the kitchen to grab a pail of water and some clean cloths, then quickly took two steps at a time until she found the guard heading down the third-floor passageway.

“I’ll open the door,” she said as the water sloshed over the rim of the pail.

“Divana,” Kennan mumbled, his eyes still closed. “I kent you’d be here.”

“Of course,” she said, casting a bashful glance at the guards as she ushered them into the chamber. The passageway sconce reflected a stream of sweat on the heir’s brow. “Put him on the bed straightaway, thank ye.” She rushed forward, set the pail on the floor and put the rags on the bedside table, then pulled down the bedclothes. “Your strength is impressive. Sir Kennan is so large, I do not ken of any other men who would have been able to haul him up three flights of stairs.”

“Comes from carting hay on me back and swinging an ax, I reckon,” said the largest while they carefully laid Kennan on his back.

The shorter one then stepped away and brushed his hands. “Is there anything else you’ll be needing, miss?”

“I’m not certain,” she said, tucking the bedclothes in. “I hope the healer will arrive shortly. Sir Kennan will most likely need some willow bark tea…I’ve brought water and rags.”

“What about hot water?”

Divana set to lighting the candles. “Aye…and anything you reckon Mistress Ava will need.”

“I’ll fetch it,” said the shorter man.

Kennan moaned, his eyes closed. But he still wore his leather doublet and shirt.

Divana rushed to his side, bent over him, and examined his shoulder—at least what she could see. He was in dire straits with blood pooled thickly on his clothes. “We’ll need to remove these garments.”

The big guard cringed. “With a musket ball in his shoulder?”

“Cut them off,” said a matronly woman from the doorway with Sir Ewen and Lady Jean standing behind her.

“Straightaway, Mistress Ava,” said the guard, drawing his dirk.

Ever so relieved to see the healer, Divana backed away from the bed while the grim-faced lord and lady of the castle neared. “What can I do to help?” she asked.

The matron pointed. “Gather those rags and stand at the foot of the bed. Be ready to sop up blood if need be.”

After cutting away Kennan’s shirt and doublet, the guard sidled toward the door. “I’ll go help Randy with the hot water.”

“What happened?” Sir Ewen demanded in a booming voice as he moved to the far side of the bed.

Lady Lochiel followed, her face drawn and tired. “The poor lad.”

Divana twisted the cloth in her hands. “Baltazar said Sergeant Corbyn and his dragoons ambushed them at Loch Eil.”

The chieftain’s face blazed with anger. “Bloody hell, I’ll see to it that demon of a dragoon is dragged before a court martial and hanged for this.”