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by Lynsay Sands
Geordie grinned at that and hugged her close, but then admitted, “Well, no’ just fer ye, mayhap. I have been imagining doing that almost since meeting ye.”
Dwyn smiled faintly, and rested her head on his chest again, but after a moment he sighed and said, “I suppose we’d best head back. ’Twill be time fer the sup soon, and I promised to help ye with packing after.”
Her eyebrows rose at that. She didn’t recall him promising to help her. Although she had some vague recollection of his saying “they” could pack that night. She suspected though that his helping would end up just slowing her down since they had so much trouble keeping their hands off each other. She didn’t point that out, however, but simply dragged herself off of him, and began to gather her clothes.
They dressed in a companionable silence, and then walked to his horse holding hands. Geordie mounted first this time, and then leaned down to catch her about the waist and lift her up before him. He didn’t urge the horse to move right away though. Instead, he sat for a moment, letting his eyes sweep the loch, the waterfall and the clearing.
“I shall miss this place,” Geordie admitted after a moment. “I grew up here, swimming with me brothers and sister, and . . .” He let his words trail away, and then smiled crookedly down at her, and said, “But there’s a whole sea o’ water to enjoy at Innes, is no’ there?”
“Aye, there is,” Dwyn agreed, and pointed out, “And we can visit here as often as ye wish, husband.”
Nodding, he bent to kiss the tip of her nose, and then turned the horse to start along the path through the woods.
Geordie didn’t appear to be in a hurry to return to the keep. He kept his mount at a trot as they left the clearing and started along the path. She suspected he was saying a silent goodbye to this place that had been home to him for twenty-nine years of his life. That part of marriage had never occurred to Dwyn during her childhood imaginings. She’d never included the part where she’d have had to ride away from Innes, the only home she’d ever known, to go to someplace she’d never seen before, but was supposed to happily accept as her new home. That hadn’t happened in the end, but it was happening to Geordie now that he’d married her.
She hoped he didn’t resent that. He’d told her he loved her the night they were married, but hadn’t repeated it since awaking. Had the declaration been the result of the injury, something easily said when he’d thought he was about to meet his maker, or had he meant it?
Dwyn knew Geordie was happy with their marriage right now, and was even looking forward to seeing Innes. But would he like Innes once there? She bit her lip worriedly at the thought. She loved Innes, but it was in the flat Lowlands while he was used to the majesty of the mountains in the Highlands. And then there was the problem of Laird Brodie. Dwyn had tried to tell Geordie about that to prepare him ahead. They’d discussed much while he’d been healing the last several weeks. But every time she’d tried to bring up the subject of their neighbor, Brodie, he’d interrupted her to say it was fine. All would be well. They were married now. There was nothing the man could do, and did Brodie foolishly try something anyway, he’d take care of it.
Geordie’s suddenly stiffening behind her and his arm tightening around her waist drew Dwyn from her thoughts. She glanced ahead, half expecting to see riders approaching. Instead, her gaze fell on a large, dark bundle on the path some fifty feet ahead. It took a moment for her to recognize what the bundle was and even then she wasn’t sure until she was able to make out the strong bare legs sticking out of the bundle of cloth. They weren’t moving. “Is that a Buchanan soldier?”
Geordie grunted behind her, and she twisted her head around and up to look at his face. His expression was grim, his eyes scouring the trees around them and the path beyond the fallen man as he slowed his mount. Dwyn turned back then, her own gaze sliding quickly around. When she didn’t see a horse or anyone or anything that might be a threat, she shifted her attention back to the body. They were closer now and she could make out more detail. The body was large, a man with fair hair, lying on his stomach, his arms raised and slightly curved around his head, his face turned away from them as if looking back toward the keep. He wore a dark green, blue and red plaid she’d noted on about half of the warriors at Buchanan, Geordie among them, and there was blood pooling in the dirt by his chest, but there was no arrow, knife or any other weapon to suggest the source of the wound that had bled so profusely.
They were both silent as Geordie reined in just before the body and dismounted. He turned back then, just in time to catch her by the waist and ease her drop to the ground as she slid off the horse. Once on her feet, they hurried to the man.
Dwyn paused on the near side and peered down at his face as Geordie moved around to the other side. The man looked familiar. She’d seen him speak to Aulay several times since arriving, but it wasn’t until Geordie gasped the name, “Simon,” that she realized it was Laird Buchanan’s second, the man who took over when Acair was too busy to manage his duties as first, which had been a lot of the time lately, she realized.
She waited until Geordie had turned the man over, and then knelt across the body from her husband and lowered her head to the fair-haired man’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. Dwyn didn’t hear one, but the amount of blood on the ground hadn’t given her much hope that she would.
Geordie didn’t appear surprised when she shook her head. Sighing, he leaned forward to shift the top swath of plaid aside and tugged the second’s tunic out of it to reveal the injury he’d taken. Dwyn frowned when she saw the large gaping wound. The man had been gutted by either a sword or a knife. She raised her head to glance at her husband, and froze, as she saw the man behind him.
Tall, barrel shaped, with iron gray hair on his head, but a beard and mustache both more black than gray, the man was not attractive. He also had cruel eyes that haunted her in her nightmares.
“Brodie!” Dwyn gasped the name with horror.
Geordie started to turn, but it was too late. Faolan Brodie was already slamming the hilt of his sword into her husband’s head.
Dwyn’s gaze shifted to Geordie with dismay as he collapsed across Simon’s chest. Terrified that Brodie would kill him as he had Simon, she instinctively threw herself on top of her husband, protecting his head and back the best she could.
“Take her on yer mount, Garbhan, else I might kill her ere I can wed her.”
She heard Brodie’s words, but paid them little heed until someone—presumably Garbhan—grabbed her arm and started to drag her to her feet. Desperate to keep Geordie safe, Dwyn struggled violently to break loose and return to her husband. But her struggles were brought to an abrupt end when pain exploded in the back of her head and she lost consciousness.
Chapter 15
Terrible pain was crashing through Geordie’s skull when he woke up. Moaning miserably, he squeezed his eyes closed and raised his hands to cover his head, only to suck in a pained gasp when one hand pressed against cloth rather than hair. The touch sent the ache in his head ratcheting up from just terrible to excruciating.
“Drink this.”
Geordie heard the order, but paid it little heed until his hands were forced away from his head as he was lifted into a sitting position and something was pressed to his lips. His mouth was open on his pained groans, and liquid poured in at once, choking off the sound. He tried to struggle as a vile-tasting fluid flowed over his tongue, but someone caught his hands and held him still as the liquid continued to pour in. His choice was to swallow or let the liquid slide into his lungs and drown him. Geordie swallowed and continued to do so until his mouth was empty and he was eased back onto a soft surface.
He lay still then, aware that people were talking quietly around him, but was more concerned with trying to control the agony he was experiencing than anything that was being said. It seemed to Geordie that he lay there for an hour suffering before the pain began to ease, but suspected it was probably only a quarter of that. Rory often said it took a qu
arter hour before his tonics started to work and an hour before their full effect was felt. Hoping like hell that this wasn’t the full effect, he finally opened his eyes, wincing when bright sunlight struck his eyes, sending more pain shooting through his head.
“Keep your eyes closed until the pain eases more,” Rory instructed, laying something cool and damp across his forehead. “Ye took a mighty blow to the head.”
Geordie frowned at the news, trying to recall how that had happened, and then stiffened as he remembered.
“Dwyn!” he growled, sitting up abruptly, and then collapsed back on the bed with a moan as someone stuck a knife through his head. At least, that’s what it felt like, though he knew he’d taken no further harm.
The cool damp cloth was returned to his forehead now and Rory said, “Just rest another minute. Let the tonic work.”
Geordie remained still, but growled, “Where’s Dwyn?”
“The men are looking for her.” That was Aulay’s voice, solemn with an undertone of anger. “What happened?”
Geordie took a moment to sort his memories, and then sighed. “We were coming back from the waterfall. We saw a body on the path ahead, stopped to investigate . . . It was Simon,” he recalled unhappily. “He’d been gutted.”
“Simon was already dead when ye got to him?” Aulay asked, and he could hear the frown in his brother’s voice.
“Aye,” Geordie breathed. “And had been for a while. He was cooling.” He frowned at the recollection. “He must have died shortly after Dwyn and I reached the waterfall. He was no’ on the path when we rode out to the loch.”
“The men said he and Katie rode out almost on yer heels,” Aulay told him. “Ye must have ridden by the spot just before the men who killed Simon arrived. ’Tis lucky you are no’ the one lying in the path.”
“Did Katie see who did it?” Geordie asked at once.
“Aye, but she does no’ ken who it was. She said it was a large group o’ men—at least fifty warriors rode out o’ the trees and surrounded them. She said they did no’ say a word, just stabbed Simon. He fell from the horse behind her, and then his mount spooked and ran away with her. She said the men did no’ pursue her, and even made room for her to leave, but it took some time fer her to get control o’ the mount and get him to turn around. By the time she got back to where they’d been attacked to check on Simon, the men were gone, Simon was dead and ye were lying unconscious across his chest. She managed to get ye on his horse and brought ye back.”
Geordie frowned at that, but before he could think on it long, Aulay asked, “Did ye see who hit ye?”
“Nay. Whoever it was crept up behind me while we were checking Simon,” he admitted, mouth tight. But then his eyes narrowed as the memory of those moments on the path cleared a bit for him, and he said, “Aye. Dwyn gasped the name Brodie just ere pain exploded in me head.”
“Brodie?”
Geordie opened his eyes at that bark. Fortunately, this time while the light hurt, it wasn’t as bad as the first time and he was able to see that Baron James Innes stood between his two brothers at the side of his bed. The man was blanching at this news.
“Who is Brodie?” Aulay asked.
“Faolan Brodie,” James Innes said grimly. “He’s laird over the Brodie clan, our neighbors.”
It was Geordie who explained. “Brodie wanted Innes and tried to force Dwyn to marry him so he could get it.”
“Aye,” James said grimly. “No doubt he still wants Innes, and will be very angry when he realizes he canno’ marry her and get it.”
“Angry enough to kill her?” Geordie asked sharply.
“That’ll no’ get him Innes,” Aulay pointed out, and asked James, “How bad do ye think he wants yer land?”
James Innes hesitated. “At first, I thought it was his only interest. But when he attacked Dwyn . . .”
“She told me about that,” Geordie admitted. “She said he tried to force the issue and her dogs drove him off.”
“Is that how she described it?” James asked, his mouth tight.
Geordie’s gaze narrowed. “Is it no’ what happened?”
“Aye, but . . .” Sighing, he ran a hand over his thinning gray hair, and then said, “I heard it all secondhand from Maon, one o’ me men. He was on patrol, and saw it all. He was a good distance away though when it started, and said he never would have got there in time to stop the man when he attacked Dwyn. Maon said she was fighting like a hellcat and screaming for the dogs, but Brodie had her on the ground in seconds, and silenced her by pinning her neck with one arm. He’d already yanked his plaid up over his arse, and was choking her with his weight while he tried to drag her skirts up when the dogs came out o’ the woods. The dogs separated when they saw what was happening, coming at him from both ends. Angus went for his throat, but Brodie managed to get his arm up and in the way first, and the dog tore into that instead. But even as that happened, Barra went for his ballocks.”
Geordie winced despite himself, and James Innes nodded.
“Brodie did no’ see it coming, and likely could no’ have protected himself anyway if he had. The beast grabbed hold and shook his head from side to side and came away with meat in his mouth when Brodie kicked out at him and rolled to the side. Moan said Dwyn crawled several feet away and only called off the dogs when Brodie pulled out a dirk and started slashing at them. Angus and Barra listened at once and moved to stand in front of her, their bloody teeth bared as they growled at him. Brodie managed to crawl to his horse, cursing Dwyn and the dogs the whole way. He used his horse to get to his feet and Moan said he was bleeding something fierce, both from his arm and from between the legs. But he managed to mount just as Moan reached Dwyn. Despite me man’s presence Brodie vowed he’d make Dwyn pay for what her dogs did that day.” His mouth tightened. “Laird of Brodie or nay, Moan could no’ stand fer that threat against his lady. He drew his sword and hurried toward him, but Brodie merely put his heels to his horse and left before he could reach him. We have no’ heard from the man since.”
Geordie ground his teeth together, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he thought on how close Dwyn had come to being raped and forced to marry the bastard.
But James Innes wasn’t done, and added, “When Moan went back to Dwyn, she was ordering Barra to drop what was in his mouth. The beast let it go as he reached her. ’Twas one o’ Brodie’s ballocks and the end o’ his cock. A good two inches o’ it.”
“Ah, Christ,” Geordie breathed, but not in sympathy with Brodie, in fear for Dwyn. If the man blamed her for the dog doing that, how would he punish her? What torment would he think was equal to what Barra had done to him?
Dwyn had tried to tell him, Geordie thought. She’d said the man was dangerous, but in his arrogance he’d assured her she was safe now they were married. Of course, he hadn’t known the extent of the damages the man had sustained, but only because he hadn’t let her tell him. When she’d tried to, he’d silenced her with kisses and reassurances. He was a fool, Geordie thought with dismay. He knew Dwyn was special. She was not your average woman given to hysterics. He should have known that if she worried about Brodie, there was a reason, and he should have listened and let her say all the things her father had just told them, because he knew without a doubt that’s what she’d been trying to do when he’d silenced her with a finger over her mouth the last time she’d tried to tell him.
“We shall have to hope Brodie still wants Innes, then,” Aulay said now, drawing his gaze. “It will force him to keep her alive if he wishes to avoid all-out war with eight clans.”
“Aye,” Geordie said grimly, and then shifting his gaze to James Innes, he assured him, “It does no’ matter that I gave up all rights to Innes land should our marriage end by death or any other reason. If he kills her, we will still hunt the bastard to the ends of the earth. We will no’ let him try to force Una or Aileen into marriage, or attack Innes.”
James Innes blinked in surprise at that, and then turned to Aulay and s
aid, “He does no’ ken. Dwyn could no’ have told him.”
“Nay,” Aulay murmured, and reminded him, “Dwyn was going to present it to him after the ceremony as a wedding gift, but we never held it. They were wed right here while Rory was sewing up Geordie’s wounds from battling the men by the loch.”
“Aye,” James murmured with a frown. “Perhaps she planned to tell him after the wedding at Innes.”
“What do I no’ ken?” Geordie asked with a frown. “What gift?”
Aulay opened his mouth, and then closed it and walked out of the room.
Geordie gaped after him with disbelief and then struggled to sit up.
“How is yer head?” Rory asked grimly, stepping forward to help him get upright, and then stacking pillows behind his back to keep him that way.
“Better,” Geordie said through gritted teeth. It was still pounding something fierce, and sitting up intensified that enough that he didn’t stand up as he’d originally intended, but it was better. Shifting his gaze to James Innes, he asked, “What the hell is the gift Dwyn did no’ give me?”
James hesitated and glanced toward the door as if hoping Aulay would appear there, but when he didn’t he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “In truth, the gift is already given. Ye just have no’ been presented with it yet,” he muttered finally.
“With what?” Geordie asked insistently, and then movement drew his gaze to the door as his brother returned with a scroll in his hand. Pausing at the bedside, Aulay held it out to Geordie.
“What is it?” he growled, simply staring at the scroll and not taking it.
“’Tis Dwyn’s gift to ye, brother.” Aulay extended his arm farther and pushed the sealed scroll toward him. “Read it.”
“Nay. Just tell me,” he said stiffly, almost afraid to touch the scroll.
“’Tis a will. Dwyn’s will,” Aulay announced, and Geordie closed his eyes, not wanting to hear more. She would not die. He wanted nothing to do with anything that might suggest she could. But Aulay added, “And though she did no’ plan it this way, ’twill keep her alive.”