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best by your lady wife, and I’ll not let your brother die. I’ve already set my mind to his survival, and you’ll find, I’m not one to give up.”
    “Imagine that. A stubborn lass,” Caelen muttered. “She and Mairin should get along famously.”
    Keeley cocked her head. “Mairin?”
    “The laird’s wife,” Gannon supplied.
    Keeley studied the laird with interest because it was evident that he’d spoken the truth. His brother and wife meant a lot to him. She could see the worry in his face, and her romantic heart took over.
    How sweet that the laird would spirit away a healer just so his wife would have someone when her time came.
    Keeley nearly groaned. How ridiculous was it to wax poetic about how romantic the laird was. He’d abducted her, for the love of all that was holy. She should be screaming the forest down, not dwelling wistfully on the laird’s obvious affection for his wife.
    “You are a simpleton,” she muttered.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    Gannon sounded positively affronted.
    “Not you. ’Tis myself I’m referring to.”
    She thought she heard him make reference to daft women, but she couldn’t be sure.
    “How long is the journey to your keep, Laird?” she called out.
    The laird turned in her direction. “Barely a day, but with Alaric having to be carried, we can count on it taking longer. We’ll travel as far as we can and camp as close to McCabe land as possible.”
    “And when I’ve cared for your brother and delivered Lady McCabe’s babe safely, then may I return home?”
    The laird’s gaze narrowed. Caelen looked very much like he wanted to shout aye!
    “I’ll consider it, aye. But I make no promises. Our clan has need of a skilled healer.”
    She frowned, but she supposed it was better than an outright refusal.
    Bored and restless from the slow pace the warriors set, she leaned back against Gannon’s chest again, uncaring of whether it was proper or not. It wasn’t as if she’d asked to be abducted, and it certainly hadn’t been her idea to be tossed from man to man like foul-smelling rubbish.
    She set her sights on the countryside, trying to muster excitement for seeing beyond the area that she’d grown up and resided in since her birth. In truth, it wasn’t so different. Rugged landscape. Rocks scattered across the ground. They rode in and out of densely forested areas to valleys that were richly green and etched a path between rugged peaks.
    Aye, ’twas beautiful, but not the difference she’d always imagined.
    When they approached a stream that connected two lochs, Laird McCabe called a halt and ordered his men to secure the perimeter of their encampment.
    Like a well-honed operation, they each took a different task, and soon tents were set, fires were built, and guards were posted.
    As soon as Alaric was settled close to the fire, she hurried to him, feeling his brow and laying her head close to his chest to listen to his breathing.
    His prolonged lack of consciousness bothered her immensely. He hadn’t woken once during their travels. She strained to hear his breaths. They were shallow and his chest barely rose with the effort.
    His forehead burned to the touch. His lips were dry and cracked. Grimly she turned her head in the direction of his brothers, knowing they were watching.
    “I need water and I need one of you to assist me in getting him to drink.”
    Caelen went for the water himself while Ewan knelt on Alaric’s other side and put his arm underneath his brother’s neck. Ewan lifted as Caelen handed a tin down to Keeley.
    She carefully put it to Alaric’s lips, but when she dribbled the water into his mouth, it spilled right back out again.
    “Stop being stubborn, warrior,” she scolded. “Drink so that we may all sleep this night. I’ve gone long enough without sleep because of you.”
    “Devil,” Alaric mumbled.
    Ewan’s mouth twitched and Keeley glared at him.
    “You can call me whatever you like if you’ll just drink,” she