“Are ye all right, lass?” he asked anxiously, his hands moving over her as if checking for broken bones or wounds.
“Aye,” she got out in a shaky rasp.
“Oh, thank God.” Geordie scooped her into his arms and held her close, his head resting against hers. “I came back and yer da said ye’d slipped away to find a handy bush. I was going to wait patiently, but then I heard ye cry out. God,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to her head. “I think me heart stopped.”
Dwyn slid her arms around his chest, holding him as he shuddered against her.
“I love ye, Dwyn,” he said solemnly. “I truly do, and I do no’ ken what I’d do if I lost ye.”
“I love ye too, Geordie,” she whispered.
He found her face with his hands, and tried to kiss her, but stopped at once when she winced in pain as his mouth covered her split lip.
“I’m sorry, love,” Geordie said at once, and then gathered her in his arms, and pushed to his feet, murmuring, “I’d best get ye back to the fire.”
Dwyn glanced over his shoulder at the dark shapes on the forest floor. In truth, she couldn’t tell which shape was Brodie and which were just bushes.
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“Aye, I broke his neck,” Geordie said, his voice grim. “He’ll no’ be bothering us again.”
Dwyn merely nodded, and rested her head against his chest with a little sigh. She believed him, but didn’t really believe him if that made any sense. She’d been so afraid and worried about Brodie for so long it would take a while for her to accept she had nothing more to worry about.
“Ye found her!”
Dwyn blinked her eyes open and glanced around at that relieved cry from Aileen, surprised to see that they were already back at the small makeshift camp where the women had waited. She hadn’t been that far away, after all. The woods here were just so thick she hadn’t been able to see the fire for the trees.
While the women had all been sleeping when she’d slipped away several moments ago, they were all up now. Many of them were busy tending to the wounded making their way to the camp, but Aileen and Una were rushing toward them as Geordie carried her toward the fire.
“Aye,” Geordie grunted in response to her sisters as they rushed to his side. When Aulay and Alick appeared on his other side, he added, “Brodie had made his way back here and found her.”
“Is he dead?” Aulay asked, offering Dwyn a smile as he waited for her husband’s answer.
“Aye. I snapped his neck,” Geordie said grimly as he sat on the log nearest the fire, and adjusted Dwyn to sit in his lap. “He’s about twenty feet into the woods.”
“Alick and I’ll take torches and go find the body to be sure,” Aulay said, and moved away with the youngest Buchanan brother following.
Geordie grunted at that, and then clasped Dwyn’s upper arms and murmured, “Now, let me see ye, love.”
Dwyn turned from glancing around the now-busy camp and raised her face for him to see it.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Geordie breathed, running a finger gently over her cheek as his gaze took in the various bumps, bruises and cuts on her face. As his gaze dropped to her chest, he growled, “I should have taken me time killing the bastard.”
Dwyn tucked her chin in to look down and grimaced at the large ugly black bruises visible on her chest. It was where some of Brodie’s punches had landed when he was beating her after learning that she was married.
“Yer dress is ripped, lass. Did he . . . ?” Geordie’s voice was soft but grim and he seemed incapable of finishing the question. Dwyn figured out what he was asking from that and shook her head at once.
“Nay, he did no’ rape me,” she assured him, her voice still just a raspy whisper. Dwyn’s throat was sore, and she was sure it would bruise as well from his choking her, if it hadn’t already started. Still, she pushed on. “He just hit me. I’m fine, husband, truly.”
Geordie swallowed, and managed a small relieved smile, but then he sighed and shook his head. “I want to hug and kiss ye, but am afraid I’ll unintentionally hurt ye if I do.”
“Here.”
Dwyn gave a start and glanced around as something cold brushed her chest. Una and Aileen were beside them. Una was trying to press a cold, damp cloth to her throat while Aileen stared at her with a combination of dismay and concern. Dwyn lifted her head so Una could press the compress to her throat, her eyes widening as she found herself meeting the gaze of a large, fair-haired mountain of a man now standing on Geordie’s other side.
“Lady Buchanan,” the man growled, solemn eyes moving over her bruised and battered face. “’Tis a pleasure to meet with ye again.”
“MacGregor?” she whispered in query.
She immediately thought it doubtful that he could hear the word over the noise around them, but he did, and said, “Aye. ’Tis glad I am ye’re safe now. I apologize fer allowing Brodie to camp on me land. Had I kenned what he was up to, I would have captured him and brought him to Buchanan meself.”
“’Tis fine,” Dwyn whispered, but noticed that his gaze had wandered to Una as she continued to hold the cold compress to her throat.
“Here, hold this, Dwyn, and I’ll fetch ye something to ease yer throat,” Una said now.
Dwyn reached up to take over pressing the cloth to her throat and noted the way the MacGregor watched her sister move away.
“That’s Dwyn’s younger sister Una,” Geordie announced with amusement, apparently having noticed the MacGregor’s interest. “She’s only sixteen and betrothed.”
The MacGregor turned back at the news, and asked, “Who’s her betrothed?”
“Laird Graham’s eldest son, I believe,” Geordie answered.
Dwyn nodded when he glanced her way for verification, and then shifted her surprised gaze back to the MacGregor when he snorted with amusement.
“Alpein Graham,” he said, obviously knowing the Graham clan, or at least who the eldest son was. “Poor lass’ll live a lonely bairnless existence does she marry him.”
Dwyn frowned with concern, and opened her mouth to ask why, but he saved her the effort by explaining, “The man prefers men. To the point I doubt he’ll even be able to consummate the marriage. He’ll leave her in the keep and ride off on ‘hunting’ trips with his ‘friends.’” He shook his head with disgust. “’Twould be a waste o’ a lovely lass did she marry him.” He watched as Una started back with a mug in hand and added, “I canno’ abide a waste like that and may have to do something about it.”
He turned and walked away and Dwyn stared after him with amazement, and then glanced to Geordie in question.
“He’s a good man,” Geordie assured her solemnly. “He’d never hurt a lass.”
Dwyn was just relaxing when he added, “He’ll ask me permission first and wait until she’s a little older to steal her to bride.”
When she turned wide, dismayed eyes to him, Geordie shrugged. “Would ye rather yer sister was with a man who preferred men and neglected her, or someone who would fill her with bairns and make her happy?”
Dwyn couldn’t answer. Aside from the fact that her throat hurt too much to respond just then, Una had reached them by that point and she didn’t want her sister learning what Conn MacGregor had said and worrying unnecessarily. But she was definitely going to be discussing this with Geordie later, Dwyn decided firmly as she smiled at Una and accepted the mug she held out.