“Aye. She was a scrawny child,” Aulay said with fond reminiscence. “She did fill out nicely though. Makes a maun proud to call her sister.”
“Get out, the lot o’ ye!” Greer snapped furiously.
“We’re no’ going anywhere,” Dougall snarled.
“This is me castle now,” Greer growled. “Get out!”
“We’re staying right here. She’s our sister,” Alick said defiantly.
“Aye, but she’s my wife,” he countered.
Geordie snorted at the claim. “She’s no’ been yer wife fer e’en a day yet.”
“He’s right,” Dougall said grimly. “Ye carry no weight with us when it comes to authority over Saidh. Ye’re lucky we’re letting you stay.”
Greer growled and lunged around the bed at the man. He’d barely grabbed him by the scruff when he found himself under a pile of Buchanan flesh.
It was pain in her chest that stirred Saidh to consciousness. She blinked her eyes open on a moan, only to immediately close them again as a new sharp pain shot through her, this time stabbing through her head as the light entered through her eyes.
“Sorry, lass. I had to break off the end of the arrow shaft.”
Saidh forced her eyes open again to stare at her brother blankly. “Rory?”
“Aye.”
“What—” She’d been about to ask what happened, but becoming aware of the shouting and thumping around her, asked instead, “What the devil is all that racket?”
“Just the boys helping yer husband work through his upset. He was muckle distraught,” Rory told her with an amused glance over his shoulder at the men rolling about on the floor. From what she could see it was six against one, but her brothers obviously weren’t trying to hurt him, else they’d be doing more than rolling around the floor piled on top of each other like some huge ball of yarn. Still, as surprising as she found what she was seeing, Rory’s words surprised her more.
“Greer? Distraught?” she asked dubiously.
“Aye.” Rory smiled. “I think he has feelings fer ye, Saidh. He was all but wringing his hands in distress and acting womanish.”
“Greer was?” she asked with amazement. “The big braugh man I married yesterday?”
“Aye,” Rory assured her as he bent to peer at the now shortened shaft in her breast. Saidh forgot about her husband when she took note of the arrow shaft protruding from her chest. The sight brought back to mind what had happened to her. She’d been racing back to the keep, determined to beat Greer to the stables, when it had felt as if someone punched her in the chest, hard enough that she’d been thrown back and lost her seating. She’d spied the arrow as she tumbled from the saddle, and then she’d hit the ground head first and pain had exploded through her skull. She didn’t recall anything after that until waking here.
“Damn. Someone shot me with an arrow,” she muttered with dismay.
“Aye.” Rory paused and peered at her solemnly. “Did ye see who ’twas?”
Saidh shook her head. “I had just left Greer by the loch pleating his plaid. I was racing to beat him back to the castle so was keeping a sharp eye on the trail ahead to be sure my mare was no’ injured.” She frowned. “I saw no one. I did no e’en realize what had happened when I was first hit. I only knew when I saw the arrow as I fell.”
“Hmmm.” Rory looked disappointed and she couldn’t blame him. She was rather disappointed herself that she couldn’t name who had shot her.
“How bad is it?” she asked with concern as she eyed the wound. There didn’t appear to be a lot of blood, just a bit slowly seeping out around the arrow. That would no doubt change once the missile was removed, she thought, and then glanced sharply at Rory. “Ye broke off the tip o’ the shaft.”
“Aye,” he admitted mildly.
“Ye’re thinking to push it the rest o’ the way through rather than pull it out the way it went in?” she asked with dismay.
“Saidh.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took her hands in his. “The arrow near went through on its own. The tip is poking against the skin o’ yer back. One quick shove and it should pop out the back and be easily retrieved.”
Feeling the sweat of fear begin to push its way out of her body, Saidh almost begged when she said, “But can ye no’ just pull it gently out the way it went in?”
“I could,” he allowed, “But I risk doing more damage, especially if the arrowhead is a swallowtail design, and since we do no’ ken who shot ye, or what sort o’ arrow they used, I’d rather no’ risk it.”
“Bloody hell,” Saidh muttered, recognizing that what he said was true. If it was a swallowtail arrowhead, the barbs might catch on something coming out and do serious damage. It would be like pulling two hooks through her body, hoping it came out at the exact same angle as it went in . . . which wasn’t likely.
Breathing out an unhappy sigh, she started to shift in an effort to sit up, but paused when agony immediately shot through her. She took a moment to let the agony pass, and then glanced to Rory. He stood waiting patiently, knowing her well enough to not offer aid until she asked for it. Saidh had always got cranky with her brothers when they’d tried to help before she admitted she needed it. She didn’t like it when they treated her as weaker than them just because she was female.
“Ye’ll need to help me sit up,” she said quietly.
Rory let out a little relieved breath, his body relaxing, which was when she realized he’d been tense as he waited. He also then bent to help her sit up.