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“Really? Are there cutthroat brigands lurking about the glen that you failed to apprise me of? Or pirates sailing up from the loch?”
“Ainsley—”
She patted him again. “Dearest, I’m perfectly well. You, however, took a ghastly fall. Do you think you can get up now?”
He blew out a frustrated sigh. “I should make the attempt. But this is not the end of the discussion, I assure you.”
“You can scold me to your heart’s content when we get back to the castle.” She peered at his big stallion, now calmly grazing several yards away. He looked fine, too, thank goodness.
Royal had gone back to glaring at the sky, which was an improvement on glaring at her. But his complexion was positively bleached, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Can you stand if I help you?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
Alarm again spiked in her chest. Years ago, she’d seen a man brutally thrown from a horse. He’d been paralyzed from the waist down as a result. “Can you move your limbs?”
“That is not the problem,” he gritted out as he pushed himself into a sitting position.
Ainsley shifted back to give him room. “Then what is?”
“My leg bore the brunt of the fall.”
Her heart sank. “Your bad leg.”
“Of course my bad leg,” he barked.
“Icanhear you,” she said, trying not to flinch. “You needn’t shout.”
Royal grimaced. “Sorry. But the damn thing feels like it’s on fire.”
Blast.This was all her fault. “I feel wretched about that, but can you try to get on your horse? Else I must go back to Kinglas to fetch help.”
“God, no. I won’t lie here like an idiot while you’re forced to ride home by yourself.”
Ainsley tactfully refrained from pointing out that she’d had no trouble riding out here and would have no trouble riding back.
“Then let me help you up,” she said, scrambling to her feet.
Her husband shot her an irritated glance but took her hand. It was a sure sign he needed assistance, since he hated appearing like an invalid.
Ainsley planted her feet but still staggered a bit as Royal awkwardly hauled himself to his feet with her help. She slipped under his arm to provide better support. “Don’t be afraid to lean on me. As you may have noticed, I’m not a frail miss.”
He didn’t answer, obviously too busy grinding his teeth in pain and trying to find his balance.
When he was finally steady on his feet, Royal glanced at his horse. “I hope poor Demetrius didn’t lame himself because of me.”
“He looks uninjured,” she said. “Grazing his head off, in fact.”
“No thanks to me, fool that I am.”
“Royal, none of this is your fault. It’smyfault for acting like a spoiled child. Well, Angus was awful too.”
“We can apportion blame once we get back to Kinglas.If, that is, I can actually manage to get on my horse, andifDemetrius didn’t lame himself.”
“If he did, you can ride my horse and I’ll walk Demetrius back to the castle. It’s not that far.”
“You arenotwalking back to the castle.”
