Her eyes widened and she took a step back. Good, she was finally realizing her place. But then her eyes narrowed and she scowled ferociously at him.

“I won’t be silent,” she said in a low voice. “You must have a safe place for the children to play and run free. It won’t do for them to be this close to the courtyard if your men can’t control their aim.”

He took the arrow from her and examined the markings on it. Then he looked up at her again. “Until I know who is responsible, you will cease insulting my men, and me, by thinking we would allow such a thing to happen. You may return to the keep to see to the children. Cormac will escort you.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she whirled around and hurried away, her skirts swinging in her haste.

He turned to Gannon, furious over the mishap. “You will find the man who shot this arrow and you’ll bring him to me. Not only could he have killed a child, he could have killed my wife.”

His fingers curled into a fist at the memory of how close the arrow had come to Mairin and himself. Though the arrow hadn’t struck high enough to have done serious damage to himself, to a lass Mairin’s size, it would have been deadly.

His gaze dropped to the ground where Mairin had stood just moments ago. He frowned and dropped to his knee, touching the soil with his fingers. His throat closed in and his heart began to pound. Blood darkened the dirt right next to her footprints. As he followed Mairin’s path away, he saw more drops.

“Sweet Jesu,” he murmured.

“What is it, Ewan?” Caelen asked sharply.

“Blood.”

He shot to his feet and stared after his wife’s retreating back. “Mairin!”

Mairin was nearly to the steps leading into the keep when Ewan’s roar stopped her ad in her tracks. She winced and turned around. The only problem was the world didn’t stop turning when she did.

She swayed precariously and blinked to try to bring everything back to rights. Odd, but her knees shook and felt suspiciously jamlike. Before she knew it, she found herself kneeling on the ground, looking at her husband bearing down on her like an avenging angel.

“Oh dear,” she murmured. “I’ve really angered him now.”

But he didn’t look angry. He looked … worried. He rushed to her and sank to his knees in front of her. Gannon stood just behind the laird, and he, too, looked very concerned. Even Caelen wore something other than his usual look of boredom. His brows were knit together, and he stared at her as if expecting her to react.

“Why are we kneeling on the ground, Laird?” she whispered.

“I need to take you up to our chamber, lass,” he said in a tone he might use with a child.

Her brow crinkled about the time pain stabbed through her side as if someone had prodded her with a hot iron. She clutched at her side and bobbled, but the laird caught her by the shoulders with gentle hands.

“But why? Surely you can’t …” She leaned forward and whispered urgently, “ ’Tis not the time for loving, Ewan. ’Tis broad daylight. Why, it isn’t much past the noon hour.”

He ignored her and then leaned forward and plucked her right off the ground. She landed with a thud against him, which sent another shard of pain through her side. She gasped and the world went a little watery as tears welled in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said gruffly. “I did not mean to hurt you.”

Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea that he was taking her up to their chamber because it was God’s truth she was suddenly so tired that it was quite a task to keep her eyes open.

“If you would stop your shouting, I could go to sleep,” she said crossly.

“Nay, lass, don’t go to sleep. Not yet. I need you to stay awake until I can assess your injuries.”

He then shouted again, this time for someone to fetch the healer. Healer? She didn’t need a healer. What she needed was a nice long nap. And she told the laird so.

He ignored her and carried her into their chamber, where he laid her on the bed. She was prepared to close her eyes when he began tugging at her clothing.

Her eyes flew open and she smacked his hands. “What are you doing?”

Ewan looked grim as he stared down at her. “You’ve been hurt. Now let me take your clothing off so I can see where.”

She blinked. “Hurt?” Well, actually, there was a bad pain in her side.

“The arrow must have hit you,” he said. “There was blood on the ground where you stood. Do you hurt anywhere?”

“My side. It does ache something fierce, now that you mention it.”

When he moved his fingers up her side, she let out a whimper. He grimaced. “Bear with me. I’m sorry, but I have to see what we’re dealing with here.”

He took a knife from his belt and sliced a large opening in the side of her dress.

“You’re forever ruining my clothing,” she said mournfully. “Before long, I’ll have nothing to wear but my nightdress.”

“I’ll have a new dress fashioned for you,” he muttered.

That cheered her considerably as he made quick work of her clothing with his knife.

He rolled her to the side that wasn’t hurting and she felt him tense against her.

“Ah, lass, you’ve gone and gotten yourself shot by an arrow.”

She went rigid. And then she sputtered. “Gotten myself shot? More like one of your men shot me. I’d like to know who it is. I’ve a mind to take one of Gertie’s pots to his backside.”

Ewan chuckled. “ ’Tis not so bad, but you’re still bleeding. You’ll need stitching.”

She went completely still. “Ewan?”

“Aye, lass?”

“Don’t let them take a needle to me. Please. You said it wasn’t so bad. Can’t you clean it and bandage it?”

She hated the pleading in her voice. She sounded weak and silly, but the idea of a needle being plunged into her flesh was worse than an arrow slicing through her skin.

Ewan pressed his mouth to her shoulder and kept it there for a long moment. “I’m sorry, lass, but it has to be done. The cut is too deep and too open for bandaging. The wound needs to be cleaned and closed.”

“Will you … Will you stay with me?”

He stroked his hand down her arm and then back up and over her shoulder to her cheek. He pushed her hair away from her face and then his hand cupped her nape.

“I’ll be here, Mairin.”



CHAPTER 19


Cormac had no lovfor telling his laird that the healer couldn’t be fetched. The dread was there to read on his face.