“What happened?” She tried to cradle him on her knees, to keep his head up out of the dirt.
“Stabbed…me. Did no’ see the knife coming.”
“Evan?” But she knew. Even before she asked, she knew.
“Aye.”
Desperately, Annista glanced around. If Evan appeared now, she would have to kill him. At any cost.
“Chieftain—” Alan croaked.
“He is here.” And bless the man for thinking of his horse.
“Evan did no’—take him?” Alan forced his eyes open, regarding not the horse that stood so near but Annista’s face where she hovered above him. “I thought—”
“Nay, Chieftain is right here.”
He seemed to study her with perplexed wonder for an instant. “Good. The brute would ha’ abused him out o’ spite.”
“Nay need to worry about that now. We maun get help for ye. How bad is it?”
“Bad, I think.” Alan’s gaze still clung to hers. “He went for my heart.”
Tried to kill his own brother. Thank God he missed the mark. “Can ye get up?”
“Aye, so.”
It proved a battle. The pain struck hard when Alan moved, and even with Annista’s shoulder beneath his arm, the struggle to get him up took all of their combined strength.
“Mayhap,” he said then, “ye should ride back for help.”
“Leave ye here? Like this? Nay. What if he returns? Besides, there is no one at the house. They are all out searching.”
“Ye—”
“I was out searching also.” For ye, though she did not add that. The urge that had spurred her northward—had it been focused on him? “Nay, we shall ha’ to manage this. Stand but a moment. Let me think.”
Hastily, she unbuttoned his jerkin which was rent, and used the slash to tear open the sodden shirt beneath. What she saw made her gasp.
The wound, aligned with his ribs, seeped blood steadily. Indeed, the blade must have passed between those ribs and could have only just missed his heart.
With hasty hands, she reached under her skirts and tore her petticoat—not too clean at this point—and folded the fabric with shaky hands. This she pressed against his wound and tied the rent shirt over.
“D’ye think ye can mount?”
“Aye.”
He sounded confident, but again, the simple act proved far more difficult than it seemed. By the time he was in the saddle, they were both sweating.
Alan pressed an arm across his chest, keeping the bandage in place. “Come up,” he bade.
“Nay, I had better walk.” Hold him up by the leg if necessary, for if he fell from the saddle she would never get him up again.
They went slowly at first, and that frightened her for he needed help soon, so she quickened her pace as she could. In between watching so he did not lose consciousness and slide, Annista searched the land all around for movement—a red head. A vicious, terrifying mien.
When she found movement at last, her heart leaped in terror. But it was two men coming out of the woodland toward them. When they drew near, she saw them for Earl MacKallan and Archie, the footman.
“Help. Help him!” she cried.
