Enemy in the Highlands

“Eleanor, open the door for me, lass,” Cedric groans beneath the weight of the man on his back.

I glare at him from beneath the hood of my cloak. “Nae, Brother, you willnae bring this man beneath our roof tonight.”

“Eleanor,” Cedric growls impatiently.

“Fine.” I shove the door open and storm inside. The scent of fresh baked bread rushes to greet me, and I realize I am ravenous.

Skip slowly rises from his place before the fire and growls low in his throat as Cedric shuffles inside.

“See?” I thrust a hand at the animal. “The dog recognizes the threat, but my own brother? Nae!”

Cedric ignores me and slowly lowers the man onto the cot in the corner. It is the same cot Cedric often sleeps on when he keeps the fire going on cold nights. The man groans but remains unconscious.

Cedric tugs off his own scarf and coat, tossing them onto a nearby chair. His eyes barely leave the man on the cot. He places his palm against the man’s forehead.

“Eleanor, bring me the willow bark. This man has a raging fever and I need to bring it down.”

I cross my arms over my chest and thrust out my chin. “Och, you can get the vial yourself, Cedric Carmichael. I already told you I do nae want this brute in my house, so do nae expect me to help with healing him.”

Cedric’s eyes blaze in my direction. It is nae often I can rouse his anger, but I see my sharp tongue has hit the mark. My brother rises to his full height of nearly six feet and closes the distance between us in three swift strides.

“In the name of all that’s holy, Sister, what has gotten into you?”

“I was trying to tell you all the way from the barn!” I shoot back. “This is Angus Mackintosh! The very man Brock Cameron warned us about. And you have to go and just...let him into our house!” I jerk my cloak upon its wooden peg and push past my brother.

Cedric grabs my wrist, and when I whirl to face him I can see the anger has gone out of his eyes. “Eleanor, what would you have me do?” Cedric’s voice betrays his weariness. “I cannae very well leave the man to freeze to death on the moors, can I?”

I yank my wrist free from him. “You can.”

My brother pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes in a familiar motion of exasperation. “Nae, sister. Before Da died, he made me promise to open our door to any soul who needed help and healing. It was his wish. I willnae go against that, even for this man.”

I cross my arms and look away. I hate it when Cedric dredges up the memories of our deceased parents like this. Not only does it remind me of our great loss, it also makes me feel small and foolish, instead of the grown woman of one and twenty that I am.

“Besides,” Cedric turns back to the man on the cot. “We do nae even ken if it is Angus Mackintosh. So in the meantime, we just treat him as we would any other villager who comes to our door for help.”

I snort. “I’m sure we’ll know soon enough if ‘tis Mackintosh when we wake up to find him killing us in our beds.”

“Och, hush lass,” Cedric scolds, and his eyes flick toward the stairs.

I follow his gaze and notice Meg standing at the bottom of the stairs. I stiffen slightly, wishing I could take back those final words. I have no doubt she has heard everything. I cast her a reassuring smile and then stand beside Cedric as he bathes the man’s forehead with a damp rag.

“I still say ‘tis Angus Mackintosh,” I mutter beneath my breath.

Cedric shakes his head. “Well, if I cannae get his fever down tonight, we may never know. Now fetch me that willow bark.”

I sigh and obediently find the vial of willow bark on our vast shelf of tinctures, powders, salves, and herbal remedies. I can only hope that this man’s fever keeps him in a state of such delirium that we need nae chance to meet the fearsome, slumbering warrior.