"I knew he wouldn't best you," she whispered, meeting his gaze. "I've seen you practicing in the bailey several times. Besides, I didn't want to leave you alone with him."
Her words bewildered him. Why would she not want to leave him alone with an opponent? Did she think to protect him somehow? Before he had time to ask her to clarify, two more guards burst into the shed and slid to a halt in the straw when they saw him.
Neacal rose to his full height, ready to defend himself and Anna if these two sought revenge for their fellow guard. If one was disloyal, more could be. He trusted no one.
"M'laird?" Gegrim said. "We heard Dunn barking and then the sword fight."
Dunn had been barking? Neacal hadn't noticed. He motioned to the dead man. "Farquar tried to force himself upon Mistress Douglas, then he drew his sword and challenged me."
The two gaped, wide-eyed, their attention shifting from him to Farquar and back again. "Is he dead?"
"Of course. Did you ken he was disloyal?" Neacal observed them closely, wondering if they were.
They shook their heads. "Nay, chief."
"Get him out of here." Neacal helped Anna to her feet, then picked her up. He carried her out of the shed.
"I can walk," she whispered, stiffening in his arms.
"I know," he murmured. But she was still shaking from the fright and her legs might be weak. He didn't wish her to fall.
Saints, how light and soft she was. He'd almost forgotten how delectable a woman could feel in his arms. It had been such a long time. Something urged him to hold her closer, tight against his body, but he forced himself not to. The feminine scent of her hair made him yearn to bury his nose in the tousled blond waves and inhale her. But, nay, he could not do that either. He was but seeing her to safety and that was all. She'd already been traumatized by a man. Likely she did not want Neacal touching her either, but he had little choice at the moment.
Regardless of the situation, temptation teased at his instincts, for he had once been more roguish than most. Shoving the feeling aside, he quickly carried her around the stables and across the cobblestone bailey. He absorbed the instant she relaxed in his arms and held on around his neck… the most rewarding sensation he'd experienced in a long time. Trust emanated from her and he even glimpsed it in her eyes when she chanced to look up at him. Saints, but she was enticing… even more so because of her trust.
Halting outside the kitchen, he lowered her to her feet and made sure she was steady before releasing her. "You'll be all right, then?"
She stared up at him, her eyes still red and glistening with the remains of her tears. "Aye, and I thank you again, m'laird."
"Neacal," he reminded her.
"Neacal."
The sound of his name in her feminine voice sent a hot shiver through him. Pushing the sensation away, he nodded. "If anyone should bother you again, let me know."
"I will." She gave him a small smile.
He forced his gaze away from that beguiling sight. "And don't be wandering about the bailey alone at gloaming or at night until I make sure all my men are trustworthy." He opened the door and helped her inside. "Take her to Tavia," he told one of the kitchen maids.
"Aye, m'laird."
"I am well, truly," Anna protested.
"Allow Tavia to examine you for bruises and broken bones. I'll ask her later if she's checked you over thoroughly."
Anna blushed, appearing uncomfortable. "Very well. I'll find her myself. No need to bother the kitchen staff."
Neacal gave a brief nod, then closed the door. Tavia was a skilled healer and if Anna had any serious injuries that hadn't come to light yet, she would find them.
As he crossed the bailey, four guards carried Farquar's body from the shed. A few more men had gathered there including his sword-bearer.
"Tell all the men to come out into the bailey," he said to Matthew. "Not the elders, but everyone else."
"Aye, chief." Matthew frowned but hastened up the steps toward the front entry. He wanted every man here to clearly understand his stance against rape.
While Neacal waited, several of his men gave him a wider berth than usual and watched him warily. What the devil was going through their minds? Did they think he'd murdered Farquar? His anger returned by slow degrees. He didn't trust most of his men, and they obviously didn't trust him either. A potentially explosive situation.
Once all the men were assembled, gloaming was creeping toward night. In the torchlight, he climbed the steps and addressed the men, raising his voice. "Farquar is dead because he tried to force himself on a female guest. When I stopped him, he drew his sword to fight me. Any man within these walls who forces himself upon a female will suffer the same fate. Do I make myself clear?" Renewed rage slid through his veins.
