Cyrus's forces hadn't been reduced to so few soldiers in many years. He realized the seriousness of the predicament, especially when he didn't ken how large his enemy was. Everyone here could well be easy pickings in this unfortified manor house.
His blue eyes dark with concern, Fraser stared at his shoulder. "How bad is your wound?"
Cyrus glanced down again at his bloody sleeve. His shoulder did smart, but 'twas not severe. "Naught but a scratch."
"'Tis bleeding badly. We must have a healer see to it."
Cyrus nodded. "There's more going on here than we first realized. Someone is trying to eliminate all of Lady Grey's protection."
"Who would do such a thing? And why? She's a kind and charming lady."
Before Cyrus could answer, Elspeth strode toward him, her wide-eyed gaze upon his bloody sleeve. "Good heavens! What happened?"
He explained the situation, hoping not to frighten her too badly. But she had to realize the danger she was in.
Her face paled and her mouth dropped open. "You could've been killed."
'Twas true, but he never worried about whatcould havehappened. If he did, he would never leave the walls of his own castle. "I'm well, m'lady. No need to fash yourself over it."
"I'll retrieve the healer from Stillman's chamber. You may need stitches."
Elspeth rushed up the stairs, trying to get her bearings after seeing Cyrus's bloody sleeve. The flash of extreme fear for his life had shocked her. She had not lied—he could've easily died if the arrow had struck him a few inches closer to his neck or heart.
Before she could debate who might have shot the arrow, she met Mistress Almsly in the corridor. "Come quickly. Laird Stornmor has been struck by an arrow."
"Saints! Where is the injury?"
"His shoulder. 'Tis bleeding badly. You may have to stitch it up."
"I'll fetch my kit." She scurried to her chamber.
Elspeth returned to the hall, finding Cyrus still talking with his brother.
"Would you like to go into the study?" She thought 'haps he'd appreciate a bit of privacy since he would have to strip to the waist.
"Aye, he wouldn't wish to make the maids swoon with his chiseled physique." Fraser chuckled.
Cyrus rolled his eyes.
To disguise her heated blush, Elspeth headed toward the study. Going inside, she was glad to find the room warm from the low-burning fire.
She lit four candles on the small oak table, then glanced to Cyrus. "Thank heavens the arrow didn't embed. Are you in pain?"
"Nay."
"You will never get him to admit feeling pain unless he is in severe agony." Fraser grinned.
"We didn't ask for your opinion." Cyrus's dry tone caused his brother to snort with amusement.
She was glad Fraser could laugh off such a dangerous situation. She certainly couldn't, but mayhap he was merely trying to lighten his brother's somber mood.
Unsure whether she should offer to assist Cyrus in removing his doublet and shirt, she hesitated. Without doubt, Fraser would have some wry comment to make about it.
Cyrus unfastened the brooch which held the plaid sash over his shoulder, then unbuttoned his doublet.
"If you could help him, Fraser, I'll see if Mistress Almsly has come down." Elspeth darted from the room. Why was she so nervous about helping Cyrus undress or seeing him half-naked? Mayhap because she knew his muscular build would be stunning.
Mistress Almsly descended the stairs and Elspeth motioned her toward the study. "He's in here."
