Cursing, Conran closed his eyes and tried to brace himself as his world turned on its end.
“Cousin!”
Groaning, Evina rolled onto her back, and opened her eyes, unsurprised to find Gavin next to her, concern on his face.
“Are ye all right?” he asked, looking her over.
“Fine,” she sighed as he helped her sit up. Glancing around she spotted the Buchanan on the ground a few feet away, next to his now-calm horse. Donnan was kneeling beside him.
“Is he okay?” Evina asked anxiously. Ignoring the aches and pains assailing her, she struggled to her feet with help from Gavin, and moved to lean over Donnan so that she could get a look at the Buchanan’s face. Seeing his closed eyes, and pale face, she sighed with disappointment. “He’s unconscious again.”
“Again?” Donnan glanced back at her with surprise.
Evina nodded. “He woke up briefly just moments ago.”
“Are ye sure?” Donnan asked.
“Aye,” she said with a grimace. “The bastard bit me leg.”
“He bit you?” Gavin asked with a laugh of disbelief.
Evina nodded again. “It startled me into yanking on the blasted reins, which is why his steed reared.”
“He’s unconscious, but breathing fine and seems good other than another bump on his head,” Donnan announced, straightening. “Must have got it when he hit the ground.”
Evina relaxed a little. They’d both come off the horse when it reared. She’d tumbled backward, and he’d slid down the horse’s back right behind her. He’d still been trussed up, ankles and wrists, with a rope attached between them. She supposed they were lucky he’d only suffered a blow to the head and hadn’t been trampled or dragged about by his mount.
“We’re only an hour from Maclean,” Donnan said quietly. “It might be better to get him there before he wakes again.”
“Aye,” Evina agreed, absently rubbing her elbow. She’d landed on it hard when she fell off the horse. It was tender, probably badly bruised, as was her hip, but she hadn’t broken anything, and she was conscious, so, all told, she’d fared better than the Buchanan.
“Gavin can take him on his horse for the rest of the ride,” Donnan said as he picked up the man and straightened.
Evina didn’t argue. This wasn’t the first time the Buchanan had slid off his saddle. It had happened shortly after they’d left the clearing. He’d slid down, headfirst toward the ground, and then hung under the horse’s belly, faceup with the rope attached between his bound ankles and wrists across the saddle. Well, he would have been faceup if he’d been conscious. He hadn’t, however, so his head had just fallen back, his long hair dragging on the ground.
They’d stopped at once, of course, to resituate him across the saddle, and then had decided someone should ride with him to be sure it didn’t happen again. Evina had taken the duty because she was the lightest, and they’d hoped it wouldn’t slow his horse down too much to have her ride with him. But they were close to home now; Gavin’s horse could handle the two of them and still move fast for this last bit of the journey. The beast had originally been Donnan’s until her father had gifted his first with the steed he now rode. The animal was used to carrying the bigger man, and Gavin and the Buchanan together probably didn’t weigh that much more than Donnan did on his own, he was that large.
“Mount up, Gavin, and I’ll lay him over the saddle in front o’ ye,” Donnan ordered as he carried the Buchanan past her.
“Are we going to untie and retie him around me horse?” Gavin asked, leading the way to his mount.
“Nay. We’re close enough I think we can do without the bother. Just keep a hand on his back to keep him from slipping off for the rest of the journey,” Donnan instructed.
Gavin mumbled something of an agreement as he mounted his horse, then leaned over and reached out to help place the Buchanan across his horse’s back in front of him. The two men quickly ran into trouble, however, thanks to the rope between the man’s bound wrists and ankles.
“Just a minute,” Evina said, pulling out her dirk and hurrying forward when she saw the problem. While the two men held him aloft, she quickly cut the rope between his hands and ankles, and then stepped back and out of the way, aware that her cheeks were now a fiery red. She couldn’t help it. The way they’d been holding the man, his jewels had been dangling to the side of her face, and while she’d tried not to look, it had been impossible not to take a couple of quick glances.
Shaking her head in an effort to remove what she’d seen from her mind, Evina left the men to arrange the Buchanan to their pleasure and moved away to remount her mare.
“Lead the way, m’lady,” Donnan rumbled once they were all back in the saddle.
She didn’t have to be told twice. Turning her mare, Evina spurred her into a fast jog she hoped Gavin’s steed could keep up with. She was eager to get home and see that her father was all right. Or, at least, that he still lived. If he’d died while she’d been out fetching the Buchanan back to help him—
Evina pushed that thought determinedly away, but spent the remaining hour of the journey praying that Rory Buchanan was as good as the stories claimed and could save her father’s life.
Chapter 2
“Oh, thank the good Lord ye’re back, m’lady. I was starting to fear ye’d be too late.”
Evina turned from dismounting to see her maid, Tildy, rushing down the stairs toward her. The woman was wringing her hands, lines of worry creasing her old face.
“He’s still alive though?” Evina asked sharply, moving to meet her at the base of the stairs.
“Aye,” the maid said at once, squeezing her hands reassuringly when Evina took them. “But barely, and I’m no’ sure for how much longer if something is no’ done. He’s burning up, he is.”
“Something will be done,” Evina assured her, and turned to where Donnan was removing the still-unconscious Buchanan from Gavin’s mount. She heard Tildy gasp beside her as his naked front was revealed, and then Donnan tossed the man over his shoulder and turned toward her.
“Yer father’s room?” he asked as he approached.
“Aye.” Evina turned at once to lead the way.
“Is that the Buchanan brother what’s a healer?” Tildy asked, huffing up the stairs on her heels.
“Aye,” Evina murmured.
“He’s bigger than I expected,” she muttered, and then asked, “What happened to him? Why is he unconscious? And naked and tied up?”
“There was a—” grimacing, Evina sorted briefly through words in her mind and chose “—an incident.”
“What kind o’ an incident?” Tildy asked grimly, her voice a little stronger.
“It does no’ matter, Tildy,” she growled as she pushed her way into the keep and started across the great hall. “The important part is he is here.”
“But unconscious,” Tildy pointed out. “How can he help yer father if he’s unconscious?”
“We’ll wake him up,” she assured her.