"Darack!" Mairiana yelled. Panic raging through her, she banged her fist against the door. Horrified, she'd listened to the sounds of battle just outside the door—the sword clangs and men's yells. Had Darack bested them? If so, why wouldn't he answer her? He'd told her to keep the door locked, but what if he was injured? She would have to open it and see if he needed help.

"Darack! Answer me!" When he didn't, she quietly unlocked the door and cautiously peered out. He lay on the bloody deck beside two of Alec's men, all of them unmoving.

"Nay!" Her heart slamming into her throat, she ran to Darack and dropped to her knees. "Darack! Oh good heavens! Please don't let him be dead," she prayed, touching his face, feeling for his breath or any sign of life. She stilled her trembling hands enough to feel his breath gusting against her fingers. "Thank God." She glanced around the deck but saw no one. "Help!" she yelled. "Captain Madding!"

A crewman ran toward her. "What happened here?"

"A sword fight. Can you get help? My guard still lives. He needs a surgeon or healer."

"I'll be right back."

While she waited, she pressed her hands against Darack's warm skin, feeling his heartbeat and reassuring herself he still lived. But he was bleeding and she knew naught about injuries.

Moments later, three crewman carried Darack into the cabin, the captain following. "What happened?" he asked.

"I heard my guard being attacked outside the door." In fact, she'd heard four men's voices out there, besides Darack's. But she knew not what happened to the other two, unless Darack had thrown them into the sea. She had heard vanishing screams.

"Your guard?" Captain Madding's bushy white brows formed a frown. "He told me he's your husband."

"Oh." Mairiana didn't know Darack had told him that. "Aye, he is. We only married yesterday, but prior to that, he was my guard."

Captain Madding nodded, though his gaze remained wary. "He left the other men dead on the deck."

"I'm certain he had no choice. He was protecting me and himself. 'Twas self-defense." She moved toward Darack. The men had placed him on the suspended cot which swung slightly with the roll of the waves. One of the crewmen cut the left sleeve of Darack's blue doublet.

When Mairiana saw that his shirt was completely drenched in blood, panic blasted through her. "Oh good lord." She was not a healer… had never even assisted a healer. She had led a sheltered life, but this did not stop her from ripping at Darack's shirt sleeve so she could see the cut on his upper arm better. "Oh, saints! 'Tis a deep cut. He will need stitches. Do you have a surgeon on board?"

"My first mate performs surgeon duties. He has stitched me up a few times," Captain Madding said.

The captain looked healthy; maybe the first mate knew what he was doing. "Can you send him in, please?"

"Aye. I'll tell him to come quickly." Captain Madding exited the cabin, along with the three men who'd carried Darack in.

Now she was alone with him, and he was unresponsive.

"Darack, wake up, please," she begged.

He didn't move or make a sound. Had he lost so much blood, or had he been knocked out?

"God, help me," she whispered. "What am I supposed to do?" Her eyes searching his body, she opened his doublet and saw that blood drenched his side as well. "Oh no, not another cut."

She ripped his shirt open, revealing another gash at the bottom of his rib cage, on the side of his body. Blood oozed from it.

Icy horror consumed her and tears filled her eyes.

He had to be stitched up soon and the bleeding stopped. She ripped open his shirt to check for more injuries to his vitals but found none.

"Darack?" She touched his head, examining it to see if he had an injury there. Upon touching the back of his head, her fingers came away bloody. "Oh, good heavens," she whispered. How many more injuries did he have? She checked his legs and thankfully found no cuts there. Afraid she might hurt him, she did not want to turn him onto his side to check his back. Besides, she was unsure she had the strength to do this alone. Darack was tall and heavy with muscle.

The door burst open and a disheveled, gray-haired man with a scraggly beard entered carrying a satchel. He appeared the furthest thing from a surgeon she'd ever seen. She prayed he knew what he was doing.

"A good day to you, m'lady." He gave a brief bow. "I'm Sully. Cap'n says for me to stitch up your husband," he said.

Every time someone called Darack her husband, a flush of heat and pride filled her. And each time the description felt more real. "Aye, Sully. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Mairiana and this is Darack. Do you know a lot about injuries?"

"I've seen a few." His words did not inspire confidence.

Her stomach knotted. "So far I've found he has two bad cuts and a head injury," she said. "Will you help me check his back?"

"Aye. Once I get these cuts stitched." He took a close look at Darack's injuries then dug into his satchel.

When he made no comment, she asked, "Do you think he will live?"

"I wish I knew."

His comment was offhand, almost careless. She clasped her fingers tightly together, praying the man could actually help Darack despite this cavalier attitude.

Sully took out a bottle of whisky, uncorked it and downed a swallow. "Want some?"

"Nay." Alarm filled her. If he became sotted, how could he stitch up Darack?

Sully poured a splash of whisky on both of Darack's cuts.

"Will that help?" she asked.

"Aye." He gave a twisted grin. "Whisky will cure anything."

She doubted that, but the man had to know more about injuries than she did.

"We'll start with his side since 'tis the longest cut."

She nodded. It was probably for the best that Darack was knocked out for this. No doubt it would be unbearably painful if he were awake.

"Here we go, lad. Good as new in no time." Sully drew the needle and thread through the two sides of the open wound and drew it together. At least, Sully's hands looked marginally clean.

Marianna felt nauseous of a sudden. She placed a hand against her throat and closed her eyes to pray silently.

"All right now, laddie! You must be still!" Sully said.

Mairiana's eyes popped open. Had Darack awakened? Aye, he was moving. That had to be a good sign.

"Can you press against his shoulder and hold him down, m'lady?"

"Of course." She held Darack's shoulder and good arm. "Lie still, now, Darack," she said softly. "Sully is here to help you."

"I'm certain he'll listen to you, m'lady. With that gentle, womanly voice, what man wouldn't?" Sully cackled.

Just sew him up, she wanted to yell at the daft man. She didn't need his silly comments. There was naught funny about Darack being seriously injured. At some point during the last two days, he had become the most important person in her life. He gave selflessly and put his own life in jeopardy to protect her. He was an amazing and caring man.

Please, God, heal his body, she prayed, blinking back tears.

"There we go!" Sully clipped the thread. "Now, for his arm."

Mairiana moved to Darack's other side and held his wrist while Sully stitched the wound on his biceps muscle. She was thankful it was not his sword arm that was injured so badly. For a warrior to lose the use of his sword arm could be devastating for him.

A half hour later, the wounds were stitched and wrapped in clean ivory linen. Sully didn't find any more injuries on Darack's back or elsewhere. The head injury did not require stitching and Sully said he could do naught to help it heal faster.

"I'll leave this with you." He handed her the bottle of whisky. "'Tis only a dram or two, but it should be enough. If he awakes in pain, give it to him."

She nodded, her stomach clenching with worry. "I thank you. Do you think he will be in severe pain?"

"Aye, 'haps so. But he's a braw Highland warrior. He will endure it. We Highlanders are a rough and tough lot." Sully grinned. "Let me know if you need help with anything. We're not too far from Inverness."

"Good. I appreciate your help," she called, watching the first mate leave and close the door. What would she do once they arrived in Inverness? She didn't know where his clan lived. Sure, Glenmoriston, but she didn't ken how far that was from the harbor or how she was supposed to transport Darack there if he was too injured to walk.

Trying to calm herself, she sat beside him and stroked his jaw, covered in the short dark beard. His breathing was strong and steady, thank the saints, but she was unsure whether to wake him. On the one hand, when he awoke he would be in severe pain, but on the other, his sleeping worried her. What if he never roused? Tears filled her eyes. He was incredibly selfless and generous to help her so much. If he died, 'twould be her fault.

"Darack," she whispered. "Please open your eyes." She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "Please tell me you will live."

She had far more to tell him, and far more to ask him. She wanted to know everything about him. She could not even begin to understand the wild and intense feelings he inspired in her. She had never expected it.

He shifted, turning his head, then groaned.

"Darack?" Her heart pounded with excitement. He would recover. He had to. "Are you awake?"

He growled, frowned, then opened his eyes. "Mairiana?"

"Aye. How do you feel?"

"Not good. What the devil happened?"

"You tell me. Some of Alec's men must have attacked you."

His frown deepened. "Aye. Four."

"Four? Two of them were found dead. Where are the other two?" If they were free on board the ship they could come back and finish him off.

"Overboard," he mumbled.

"Oh, you tossed them into the sea?"

"Aye." He ground his teeth, then glanced down at his upper arm and the bound wound. "Bastards," he hissed.

"Do you want some whisky for pain?" She uncorked the bottle.

"Aye."

Holding his head up with one arm while trying to avoid his head injury, she helped him drink all that remained in the bottle. She gently lay his head down again. "We will arrive in Inverness soon. What shall we do then?"

Darack didn't answer. He dropped off to sleep.