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The dog responded at once, nearly doing a somersault in his effort to stop. He then stood there for a moment, looking to her and back to the man twice before turning and trotting to her side.
"Good boy," Annabel breathed, hugging him when he sat down beside her. She had meant it only to be a brief hug to reward him for obeying despite his instinct to give chase, but ended up holding on to the animal to stay upright as a wave of exhaustion rolled over her.
That exhaustion disappeared though, as her ear caught the sound of approaching riders. Her husband and his men, no doubt, Annabel thought and forced herself to gain her feet to face his anger. Only it wasn't her husband and his men. She didn't recognize a single man in the approaching party, and Annabel instinctively tightened her fingers around . . . nothing. She no longer had the knife she'd borrowed from the kitchen for this excursion. It was still in the arm of the man who had attacked her. The only weapon she had now was the dog at her feet.
Mouth tightening at this realization, Annabel raised her chin and watched as the party of about six riders drew to a halt before her. Silence filled the glade as the men eyed her. It went on long enough that she began to grow uncomfortable, so Annabel finally said, "Good morning."
For some reason her polite greeting drew a chuckle from several of the men. The only one who did not laugh, that she could see, was the one in the lead. Her words brought a frown to his face and he said, "English."
"Aye," Annabel said warily, raising her chin a little more.
The other men had stopped laughing abruptly at the word English and were now eyeing her with a speculation she did not understand until he asked, "Ye'd no' be Ross MacKay's new bride, would ye?"
Annabel stiffened, suspicion beginning to creep up within her. That suspicion exploded into full-blown realization when a woman on horseback charged out of the trees with a mounted man hot on her horse's tail.
"Dammit, Giorsal, I told ye to wait," the leader barked as she reined in next to him. Truthfully, he sounded more exasperated than surprised. At least, he did until his gaze shifted to the man drawing to a halt behind her. Then his voice was short with anger as he said, "Ye were to keep her where she was safe until we'd scouted out the situation."
"Don't fash at Brody, husband," the woman said with a laugh. "Ye ken he did his best. But I wanted to know what was happening and why the lass screamed."
Annabel listened to this exchange, her heart sinking as her fear was proved true. When everyone then turned back to her in question, she instinctively raised a hand to push the hair back from her face, only to pause as she spotted the blood covering it and glistening on the sleeve of her gown.
Frowning, Annabel peered down at herself then and could have shrieked with frustration when she saw that her gown was torn and covered with blood and grass stains. Really, it was enough to weep over. This was not how she'd planned to meet her husband's sister.
Chapter 8
"This isna' good."
Ross's mouth tightened, but he didn't respond to Gilly's comment as he watched Marach run his hands over his wife's saddleless mare in search of wounds, and then checked her hooves to see where she'd been.
Annabel had disappeared into the woods by the time he'd led Marach and Gilly out of the bailey. They'd crossed the narrow barren land that surrounded the castle and then had begun to search the area just across from the drawbridge, thinking the woman didn't know the area so wouldn't have strayed far. But when that had turned up nothing, they'd begun to discuss splitting up and searching further afield, only to pause when her mare came charging through the woods toward them. The horse had been in a panic. On spotting them, she'd turned sharply and tried to avoid them, but the men had given chase and caught her.
"Anything?" Ross asked as Marach finished his examination and straightened.
"No injuries, but something spooked her," he said, running a soothing hand down her back. "She has black dirt ground deep into her hooves."
"Hmm," Ross muttered, considering the different areas nearby with black dirt. There were a lot of them. Stomach clenching with frustration and worry, he ordered, "Marach, take the mare back to MacKay, and round up some men to help search. Gilly and I will split up and head the way the horse came. If we find Annabel--" He paused and jerked around in his saddle as a tinkle of laughter reached his ears.
"It sounds like more than one woman," Marach said as a second burst of female laughter joined the first.
"Seonag?" Gilly suggested uncertainly.
Ross considered that, but said, "The stable master did no' mention anyone accompanying me wife."
"Nay, he didn't," Marach agreed, and then as the riding party came into view through the trees, he added, "And that's definitely no' just a couple o' women."
"Nay," Ross growled, squinting to get a better look at the group. Another moment hadn't passed, though, before he recognized them as MacDonalds.
"Ah, Giorsal's come for a visit," Gilly said, apparently recognizing the group as well. "And it appears she and yer wife are getting along like a hut on fire."
"Then why isn't she riding with her?" Ross asked testily as he noted his wife's wee figure seated before his brother-in-law on his mount. She threw her head back on another laugh then, her dark hair flying back and splashing over Bean's cream shirt and dark green plaid, and Ross growled deep in his throat, his fingers tightening on his reins.
"On the bright side, she looks unharmed and well from here," Gilly pointed out, sounding amused for some reason.
Ross merely grunted and urged his horse forward to meet the party.
Bean spotted him first, and the MacDonald laird gave him a solemn nod over Annabel's head. Giorsal, who had been grinning as she listened to something Annabel was saying, saw her husband's action and turned to look Ross's way. A wide smile immediately claimed her lips and she cried, "Brother!" and urged her mount eagerly forward. The silly chit damned near knocked him off his horse when she threw herself off her mare and at him. Fortunately, Ross knew his sister well and had braced himself the moment she urged her mount forward. He was prepared for the impact and quick enough to catch her to his chest so she didn't tumble to the ground.
&
nbsp; "I like your new bride," Giorsal laughed, hugging him so tightly she near choked him. Then she sat back in his lap and said seriously, "But ye'd best find out who it is that keeps attacking her. Next time she may no' be so lucky."
Stiffening, Ross shifted Giorsal to the side so that he could get a better look at his wife. Bean had continued forward at a sedate pace, a long-suffering expression on his face as he watched his hooligan of a wife greet her brother. Even so, he had nearly reached them and Ross could now see that his wife wasn't as well as he'd first thought. Her hair was a little wild around her head, a dark bruise was coloring her left temple, looking almost a match to the one in the center of her forehead from the day before, and her gown was torn, the neckline hanging askew and almost indecent.
"The blood's not hers," Giorsal said reassuringly and Ross suddenly noted that her red gown was a little darker red in places; her right sleeve, neckline and bodice. Drying blood. Her gown hid it well.
"Her attacker?" he asked, eyes narrowing and rage rising up within him at the thought of his wee bride alone and fighting for her life against some faceless bastard like the big behemoth he'd seen chasing her in the clearing the day before.
"Aye. She stabbed him in the arm, and then Jasper scared him off," Giorsal announced and he now noticed Jasper trotting along beside Bean's horse. The dog kept tipping his head up to Annabel, and then to the path ahead, and then back to Annabel again. It was how he used to follow his father, Ross recalled, and suspected his wife had been adopted by the beast in his father's place.
He was distracted from this thought when Giorsal added, "We heard her scream and came to investigate, but he was gone ere we got there. The men were going to search for him, but she said no' to bother, that you and the men have searched each time he has appeared and the man seems to disappear into the wind."
Ross frowned. Annabel had claimed not to see the man who had chased her in the clearing the day before, and the only other event had been the man who had walked up on her while she was trying to relieve herself on the journey here. Both times the man had seemed to disappear into thin air, but surely she wasn't suggesting all three incidents involved the same man? It had been an Englishman in England, and a Scot yesterday. Or, at least, the man had been wearing English clothes in England by Annabel's account; he had not seen him. He had, however, seen the man the day before and had noted he wore a plaid.
