“Horse!” she called over his protest. “Horse!”
“Dwyn!” His voice was a raspy hiss, but it was his hand grabbing her ankle that made her stop and turn to him as he said, “These men may have cohorts out here, and ye could draw them to us.”
“They do have others out here with them,” she admitted unhappily, recalling the one villain saying there was a good chance the men would all get to have a turn at her. Giving up on the horse for the minute, she moved to the end of the plaid opposite his feet. Dwyn hadn’t spread the whole plaid out; she’d left almost half of it bundled in a clump just past where his head now lay. There simply wasn’t room in the woods to lay out twelve feet of plaid. Taking up the ends now, she tied them around her waist, knotting them to be sure they didn’t untie and slip off. She then started walking in the general direction she thought Buchanan keep must be. At least, she tried. The man was much heavier than she’d expected, or perhaps heavier than she’d hoped was a better description. Dwyn had to lean all her weight forward to get him moving across the forest floor, but after a couple of false starts, she was able to drag him at a slow steady pace.
Of course, Geordie began to protest the moment he realized what she was doing, and insisted she leave him and hurry back to the safety of Buchanan without him. Dwyn ignored him at first, but when his voice began to weaken, she knew she had to do something. He was wasting strength he needed to survive.
Glancing back, she growled breathlessly, “Do ye really want to see me raped by a whole camp full of villains, m’laird? Because that’s what one o’ the men said would happen once they got me back to their camp, and that’s most like what will happen do ye no’ quit yer carping at me. They’ll hear ye and catch us.”
When Geordie snapped his mouth closed, she grunted with satisfaction and turned her face forward. Dwyn was moving steadily at an angle she hoped would take them out onto the path they’d ridden to get to the loch. She knew it would be risky to drag him along the path, but the forest floor was full of branches and the exposed roots of trees and she didn’t think it was probably doing his wound much good bumping him over those. Besides, they would surely move more quickly on the flatter path, and that was important. Dwyn was terrified he’d lose too much blood and die before she could get him to help. But she only had to get him to the edge of the woods around Buchanan castle. Dwyn was sure once they reached the clearing, the men on the wall would see them and send riders out. She just had to get him that far . . . and quickly.
Dwyn’s thoughts died as she heard the snap of a branch behind her. Afraid she wouldn’t be able to get Geordie moving again did she stop now, she continued forward, and merely glanced over her shoulder, but didn’t see anything. She didn’t hear anything else either, at least not from behind her. Instead, she became aware of the growing thunder of horses ahead and to her right. Sure they must be riders from Buchanan, Dwyn enjoyed a burst of energy that allowed her to move more quickly for a couple minutes, but not quick enough. Afraid the men would ride right past them, she stopped and quickly undid the plaid from around her waist.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered to Geordie, and hurried through the trees toward the sound. Dwyn had meant to stop in the trees before she reached the path the riders must be on, just to make sure that the riders were from Buchanan, but it was so dark she couldn’t tell where the trees ended until she raced out of them and onto the path. Stopping abruptly, Dwyn started to turn back and then froze, her hand coming up to cover her chest as she saw the horse about to run right over her.
It was much lighter on the path where the moonlight was not obstructed by trees, and Dwyn could actually see the dismay on Aulay’s face as he sawed viciously on his horse’s reins to keep from trampling her. The animal reared, his head forced to the side by the reins and his huge body following just enough. The beast’s front hooves churned the air, brushing so close to her face she felt the breeze of their passing, and then they crashed to the ground just to the side of her. Chaos immediately erupted behind Aulay as the men following him were all forced to an abrupt halt as well. Some managed it, some had to turn their horses off the path to avoid a collision, and then Aulay leapt off his mount, and grabbed her arms.
“Are ye all right, lass?” he growled with concern.
Dwyn shifted her eyes to him, gasped, “Geordie,” and then pulled away to run back into the woods. After the light on the path, the darkness of the forest at night left her almost blind, but she stumbled through the trees as quickly as she could, and found the wounded man by tripping over him. His grunt as she fell over him sounded beautiful to her, and Dwyn scrambled back to kneel next to him and feel for his face in the dark.
“Geordie? Aulay’s found us. ’Tis going to be all right now. We’ll have ye back at the keep in no time,” she assured him, brushing her hands over his cheeks and forehead. “Ye just hang on.”
Straightening then, she glanced to Aulay’s dark shape as he knelt on Geordie’s other side. “We have to get him back quickly—he’s bleeding badly.”
Aulay didn’t ask questions; he merely scooped up his brother and turned to stride back through the trees. His men had followed, and now scattered, backing out of the way for them to pass. It wasn’t until they were out of the woods that Aulay asked, “What happened?”
“We were attacked. Two men. Geordie killed them both, but took a sword through the chest before he dispatched the second one,” Dwyn explained quickly.
“Were there only two?” Aulay asked, his voice grim as he moved to his horse.
“Aye, but they mentioned a camp and more men,” she said on a sigh.
“Alick, take Geordie and pass him up to me once I’m mounted,” Aulay ordered, pausing next to his mount.
Dwyn glanced around with surprise at the man who had been standing beside her when he stepped forward to take Geordie. She hadn’t realized it was Geordie’s younger brother until Aulay addressed him.
“Follow me back with Dwyn,” Aulay ordered as Alick raised Geordie up to him. Once he had his brother settled before him, he glanced around and barked, “Simon, search the woods. Find this camp and bring back the men ye find.”
“Aye, m’laird.” The young soldier’s fair hair shone under the moonlight as he immediately began barking orders of his own. Satisfied, Aulay turned his horse and headed back along the path, headed for the keep.
“Did Geordie’s horse return to the castle?” Dwyn asked as Alick ushered her over to his own mount.
“Aye,” he said as he mounted. Alick then bent to catch her about the waist and lift her up before him on the horse as he added, “The men on the wall immediately raised the alarm. Aulay and I were just helping to break down the trestle tables and joined the men riding out.”
Dwyn nodded as he settled her in his lap and urged his horse around.
“How bad was the wound, Dwyn?”
She glanced around at the worry in his voice, and swallowed before saying, “Bad,” in a weak voice.
As quiet as the word had been, Alick apparently heard it. Expression grim, he spurred his mount to a gallop. Even so, Aulay was still a good three horse lengths in front of them when they entered the bailey. By the time Alick reined in at the foot of the steps to the keep, Aulay had dropped off of his horse with his burden and was carrying Geordie up the stairs, barking orders as he went.