“Hold tight,” Philip said and released the rope.
Nicholas and Fergus took up Philip’s slack, while the knight caught her left arm. Her right arm was tied toher side with the man-at-arm’s shirt. She whimpered as Philip pulled her to her feet. Her gown was torn and dirty, her face covered with bruises and scratches. Her left hand had a deep, ragged cut across it, covered with crusted blood. Her hair was wild around her shoulders. She was beautiful. And she wasalive.
Nicholas took a step toward her. Philip’s arm came up, blocking his access. Nicholas’s muscles tensed, ready to brawl again with the knight, but Gillian’s confused and battered visage stopped him.
She looked from Philip’s determined expression to Nicholas’s pugnacious one with a worried frown. “Nicholas?” Her voice was soft and hoarse.
“Move.” Nicholas grabbed Philip’s wrist and squeezed.
“Wait,” Philip said, refusing to lower his protective arm. “I want to ask her what happened.”
“Look at her! She’s been through hell. Let her rest.”
“One question,” the knight insisted, locking eyes with Nicholas.
“It’s fine,” Gillian said weakly. “I’ll answer.”
Nicholas released the knight’s wrist.
“My lady, how came you to be on the ledge?”
Gillian shook her head slowly, fearful gaze fixed on Nicholas. “I don’t know. Someone pushed me.”
Fire sparked in Nicholas’s blood. “Who?”
She shook her head again. “I know not.”
Nicholas held out his hand to her. “Come here.”
She took his hand readily, and Philip dropped his arm so she could pass. Nicholas wanted to crush her against him, bury his face in her wild tangle of sablehair, but she was obviously in pain. With as much gentleness as he could muster, he slipped an arm behind her back and another under knees, and carried her into Kincreag, cradled in his arms.
Though everyone assured Gillian she was lucky to be alive, it didn’t feel so. With the danger of death or attack from large birds of prey removed, she had time to ponder other matters. And ponder them she did. Nicholas sat with her, holding her hand while Rose set her arm and cleaned all her cuts and scrapes, wrapping her left hand tightly to stop the fresh bleeding from the eagle talons. Gillian was one pulsing throb of pain.
In addition to Nicholas and Rose, Isobel and Sir Philip remained in her chambers. They watched Nicholas with suspicion, as if they expected him to leap on her at any moment and do her injury. There was one other occupant in Gillian’s chambers, one who caused her much consternation. Tomas. He stood in a corner, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He never said a word.
Nicholas seemed disinclined to speak in front of Gillian’s family, and they were equally uncommunicative. As Gillian was too busy contemplating all that had happened, the uncomfortable silence drew out interminably until finally Nicholas stood.
He leaned over Gillian and whispered, “I’ll be back. Evan is interrogating the servants and men-at-arms. I want to check on his progress.” From the hard gleam in his black eyes, she surmised he intended to participate in the interrogations.
Gillian gave him a tight smile. He kissed her bandaged hand, promised to be quick, and left.
When he was gone, Rose and Isobel descended on her.
“Come home with us,” Rose urged, fiddling with Gillian’s arm sling. “The air of Glen Laire will help you mend.”
“I like the air here.”
“But you’re not safe,” Isobel said. “This is the fourth attempt on your life since you’ve married Lord Kincreag.”
“I know, and Nicholas is trying to protect me.”
Rose made a rude noise. “He’s not doing a very good job of it.”
“Is that why everyone is acting so strange toward him? He’s doing the best he can, truly. Getting pushed from the cliff is entirely my fault. I snuck out to the cliff path without his knowledge.”
Isobel and Rose exchanged a sober look. Isobel took Gillian’s hand. “Lord Kincreag was on the cliff path with you.”
Gillian shook her head. “No. That’s impossible.”
