"I agree," Cyrus said.
Stillman jerked his head around and gawped at Cyrus on the other side of the bed. His face drained white.
"I'm Cyrus MacKenzie. I escorted your lady home."
"The Earl of Stornmor," Elspeth added by way of introduction.
"Och, m'laird. 'Tis a great honor. I'm Archie Stillman. If I could get to my feet, I would bow."
"Do not fash over it. Rest and recover." Though Cyrus wanted to question the man thoroughly, he didn't wish to overtax him after such a severe injury.
"The reason he and his men escorted me home is that I was in a coach accident," Elspeth told him.
"Saints above!" Stillman looked back and forth between them. "Are you all right, then?"
She nodded and touched her scalp. "Just a wee bump on the head. Nothing at all like yours. But Jenkins broke an arm."
"Are you certain 'twas an accident?" Stillman looked panicked of a sudden.
Elspeth sent Cyrus an intimate but apprehensive look that asked what he thought of the notion her coach could've been sabotaged. 'Twas as if someone had given him a welcoming pat on the back, for he felt her trust and reliance on him. Savored it. He did not understand why he liked that sensation so much. In fact, he didn't ken why he felt so compelled to help her.
She switched her attention to the guard again. "By all appearances, it was an accident. The horses spooked and bolted. 'Haps they scented the wolf that had been seen in that area."
Stillman's brow knitted. "Strange that both calamities would happen a day apart."
"'Tis true."
Cyrus moved closer to the foot of the bed. "When I get back, I'll ask those who are examining the coach whether they think it was tampered with."
"I suppose a wheel could've been cracked or sabotaged in some way before the coach overturned." Elspeth looked to Cyrus for his opinion.
He nodded. "I can send someone back to question the driver further and examine the coach."
Elspeth patted the guard on the hand. "Get some rest, Stillman. Hopefully, you will feel much better by tomorrow. I'll have someone bring you food."
"I thank you, m'lady."
She arose and headed out the door. Cyrus followed, still wondering why she was so demonstrative with her guard. Was it simply because he was injured, and she was concerned for his welfare? Or maybe she felt responsible because he'd been so badly injured while working for her. 'Twas clear Stillman was also concerned for her safety, as any guard should be.
In the dimness of the corridor, Cyrus lowered his voice. "It does seem like too much of a coincidence."
"What?"
"That you had the coach accident the day after your home was broken into and your guards disappeared. Someone could've arranged both and even followed the messenger who delivered Morrison's missive to you. Or mayhap 'twas the messenger who sabotaged the coach or frightened the horses somehow."
"That's possible. But why? Certainly, young MacGuire should have naught against me. And I can think of no one who would wish me ill."
"No one? 'Haps someone from the past?"
She shook her head.
"If you think of someone, let me know." He glanced along the corridor in both directions, making certain no one was listening, then faced her again. "In the meantime… I'm not entirely certain that I trust Morrison."
"In truth?" Elspeth frowned. "He has worked here since I moved in. What makes you say that?"
"Just a feeling. Did he work for the previous owner?"
"Nay, but he was recommended by Rose's husband, the Earl of Kerrimuir, before he passed. Morrison has been naught but reliable for the past five years."
