Saidh grinned at the words and nodded. “Aye. They would,” she agreed with amusement and then shrugged. “Then mayhap it was one o’ yer men. I ken Bowie likes to swim here.”
“Aye, he does, but I left him to watch o’er the men in practice,” Greer said. “He is no’ the only one who likes to swim here though.” Giving up on his neck, he headed for his plaid, adding, “That being the case, I suppose it was foolish to behave so out here. We should return to the keep.”
“Aye,” Saidh agreed and quickly unhitched her mare from the tree both horses were fastened to and mounted. “I’ll race ye.”
“What? Wait!” Greer bellowed when she started to turn her mount toward the woods. When she paused and glanced to him in question, he pointed out, “I still ha’e to pleat and don me plaid.”
“I ken,” Saidh grinned widely. “That means I might actually beat ye back.”
Greer shouted at Saidh to wait for him, but she didn’t obey. It seemed she hadn’t taken that part of her vows seriously. That or she hadn’t heard him over her own laughter, he thought with irritation as he quickly laid out his plaid and began to pleat it. The woman was . . . well, she was magnificent, he acknowledged, some of his anger slipping away and a smile caressing the corners of his mouth as he quickly made clumsy pleats in his plaid. Damn, she had passion aplenty, a hell of a temper and more courage than most of the men he’d walked into battle with over the years. Few of them would have had the balls to take on the seven Buchanan brothers at once, or to face off against him with swords even in a friendly battle. The woman seemed to have no fear and she didn’t half enjoy life, she did so fully.
Greer had never met a woman like Saidh before. She took his breath away . . . and he couldn’t believe he’d been lucky enough not only to find her, but to win her.
Shaking his head, he acknowledged that his life had certainly taken an unexpected turn. If someone had suggested to him even weeks ago that he’d be a wealthy laird with his own castle and a woman like Saidh to wife, he would have laughed himself silly. This was not something he’d even allowed himself to dream of as a mercenary defending other lairds’ lands. Yet here he was, a man who had it all.
For some reason that thought tugged a thread of fear inside Greer. He had so much . . . and so much to lose. Leaving the plaid only half pleated, he threw himself down on it and quickly tugged it into place. The large pin he used to secure it wasn’t even fully fastened before he was on his feet. He finished that task as he strode to his horse.
Once on the beast’s back, Greer sent him out of the clearing at a run. That thread of fear was becoming a whole skein and it suddenly seemed urgent to him to catch up to Saidh as quickly as he could.
Greer was in such a rush he nearly trampled her. It was his mount that saved the day, slowing despite his urging and coming to an abrupt halt almost before Greer saw the mare next to the body on the path. In fact, he was lucky he didn’t sail off the beast’s back and break his neck tumbling arse over heels. He managed to keep his seat, however, and instead threw himself from the mount to rush to Saidh’s side and see what was about.
At first, he thought mayhap she’d tumbled from her mare, but then he spotted the arrow sticking out of her side as he dropped to his knees beside her and his heart nearly fell out of his chest. It certainly felt as if it dropped down to somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach.
“Saidh?” he barked, grasping her shoulders and raising her upper body off the ground. Her head lolled backward, hair trailing on the dirt, but she released a small moan too and Greer could have wept at this sign that she still lived.
“ ’Tis all right,” he assured her, scooping her up in his arms. “I’ve got ye. I’ll get ye home and we’ll patch ye up, and ye’ll be fine.”
She wasn’t awake to hear his reassurances, but Greer needed to say them. He needed to hear and believe them. He simply couldn’t fathom the thought of losing her already. Repeating his reassurances over and over, he carried her to his horse and somehow managed to mount while keeping her pressed to his chest . . . though were anyone to ask him he couldn’t have said how he’d done that.
Greer didn’t bother about her mare, but left it to follow, or not, as it chose. He was halfway back to the keep before it occurred to him that Saidh might be upset with him did she wake up to find he’d lost her mare. He glanced around anxiously then, relieved to see that it was behind them. The mare was smaller and slower and couldn’t keep up. She was a good distance behind but she was there, hurrying after them and that was enough.
Greer rode across the bridge, through the gates and straight for the stairs to the keep. He spotted Saidh’s brothers by the stables, but ignored them even when one of them called out to him. He was too busy at that point deciding whether to ride his beast straight up the stairs and into the great hall or not. In the end, it was the fact that he couldn’t sort out a way to open the door while in the saddle that made him decide to rein in at the base of the stairs. Pressing Saidh tight to his chest, he catapulted out of the saddle and hurried up the stairs and inside.
It wasn’t until he was charging into the master bedchamber that he recalled Alpin was in the bed. He almost turned then and carried her to the room they’d slept in last night, but a moan from Saidh changed his mind and he hurried forward and laid her gently down. He then reached over and gave Alpin a shake.
The boy moaned but otherwise didn’t respond, and Greer gave him another, much harder shake. “Alpin!”
“Aye. What? M’laird?” Alpin opened drowsy eyes to peer at him blankly. “What is about, me laird?” He gave his head a shake and struggled to sit up. “Do ye need something m’laird? Is it time fer battle? Shall I fetch yer sword?”
“Nay.” Greer pushed the boy back on the bed. His fever was obviously affecting his thinking if he still thought them out on the mercenary trail. “Where are Tilda and Helen?”