Page 21 of Sins of the Highlander

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. Mad Rob may have ruined her wedding and her reputation, but in a scrape, he’d made sure she was safe. He’d done all he could to protect her.

Her chest felt as if someone had dropped a lodestone on it.

She suspected Rob was dead. Horribly dead. No matter what he’d done to her, she was heartsick about that.

What about the wolf?

There was no sound of padded feet moving stealthily toward her.

But she couldn’t remain in the tree forever. Eventually, the pack would tire of chasing Falin and return. She needed to be long gone by then. The cloak had been dragged from the stallion’s back during the melee and was draped over a thornbush.

She’d freeze without that. Especially since now there was a wide swath missing from her skirt and chemise that bared her right leg to mid thigh.

How Mother will scold me when she sees how I’ve ruined my beautiful wedding dress, she thought disjointedly.

As if it signified anything.

She swung herself down, dangling from the bough again. She still had a ten-foot drop, which wouldn’t have troubled her if she’d had both shoes.

Elspeth released her hold and tried to land mostly on her right foot. Her ankle turned, and she went down hard.

And found herself nose to nose with a dead wolf.

She scrambled to her feet. There were several carcasses littering the path. She ought to have felt revulsion, but she was numb.

Then she limped over to retrieve the cloak and throw it around her shoulders. Her ears pricked to a new sound.

Someone was humming. She recognized the tune as one of the bawdy drinking songs her father and his men sang late at night after they were all deep in their cups. Sounds of crackling underbrush accompanied the song.

“Father?” she asked shakily.

“If ye’re asking whether I’m your sire or a priest, the answer is no to both.”

The voice was gravelly but it belonged to Rob.

He finally appeared, working his way through the timber, and burst back onto the game trail.

“Oh, Rob, ye’re alive!” Elspeth put both arms around his neck and hugged him close. “I was afeard ye were gone, but ye’re alive!”

“Aye, lass,” he said with a sinful grin. “Completely alive.”

She was suddenly aware of the hardness of his groin against her belly and pulled back away from him. She noticed then that he was covered with blood, and her alarm must have shown on her face.

“Dinna fret. It’s not my blood. At least, not mostly.”

“Ye wicked, wicked man. Why didna ye answer when I called to ye?”

“Did ye call?”

“Aye.”

He put a hand to the back of his head, and it came away with fresh, bright red blood.

“Seems I took a wee nap after the wolf knocked me into a fallen log. Fortunately, I woke with only a pounding head. He didna wake at all.”

“How did ye manage that?”

“My belt knife in his ribs might have had somewhat to do with it.” He stooped to clean the blade on the brown grass before he returned it to the small sheath at his waist. Then he did the same for the claymore and shoved it into his shoulder baldric. “I’ll have my boot knife back, if ye please.”