Elizabeth had no fear of the road nor did she worry about the men behind her. Once she was again on flat land, she paused only seconds. To the left was the MacGregors, and to the right was unknown territory. She kicked her horse to the right, somehow knowing this was the way.
One of the men yelled at her in warning once and she flattened herself against the horse’s sweaty neck as she barely missed being hit by a tree branch. Other than that, the men were silent as they rode hard to keep up with her.
After a long time of riding, Rab came bounding from the underbrush, barking hard. He seemed to expect Elizabeth and had come to guide her the last part of the way.
Elizabeth was forced to slow her horse to a brisk walk as the four of them and Rab made their way through thick undergrowth into a clump of trees so dense the sunlight was hidden.
Rab began to bark again before the people came into view. Bronwyn and her men were standing in a group, looking down at something on the ground. Sir Guy was kneeling.
Bronwyn turned at her dog’s bark and lifted surprised eyes to Elizabeth.
Her horse was still moving as Elizabeth slid to the ground and ran forward, pushing through the people.
Miles lay on the ground, eyes closed, his entire body covered in blood. His clothes were torn and she could see great gashes in his flesh, in his left thigh, in his right side.
She pushed Sir Guy away, knelt, pulled Miles’s head into her lap and began to wipe the blood from his face with the hem of her skirt.
“Wake up, Montgomery,” she said firmly with no sympathy or pity in her voice. “Wake up and look at me.”
It seemed an
eternity before Miles’s lashes fluttered. When he did look at her he gave a little smile, let his eyes shut again. “Angel,” he whispered and was silent.
“Water,” Elizabeth said to the stunned faces over her. “I’ll need water to wash his wounds, and is there a crofter’s house near here?” Bronwyn only had time to nod before Elizabeth continued. “Go and clear the place out. Take the crofters to Larenston but leave me alone with him. Send Morag and her herbs and I’ll need sharp steel needles and thread. Guy! Fetch a big plaid and we’ll carry him to the hut. Well!” she snapped. “Get busy, all of you.”
Instantly, men went off in all directions.
Bronwyn flashed Elizabeth a quick grin. “Are you sure you aren’t a Scot?” With that she was off toward Larenston.
Elizabeth, alone for a few moments, held Miles. ‘You’ll be all right, Montgomery,” she whispered. “I’ll see to it.”
She wasted no more time on sentimentality but took the dagger that lay on the ground beside him and began cutting away his clothes in order to examine his wounds. There seemed to be more blood on him than a man’s body could hold.
Rab came up to her as she was slicing away Miles’s shirt. “Where’s the blood from, Rab?” she asked. “Go and find what did this to Miles.”
With two great barks, the dog left them alone.
To Elizabeth’s relief there was only the one gash on Miles’s upper body, and that wasn’t deep but would have to be sewn. There were several long bloody cuts on his left arm but nothing serious. His legs were another matter. The wound on his thigh was deep and ugly and there were more cuts on one ankle.
She shifted him once to try to see his underside to look for wounds.
With a groan of pain, Miles opened his eyes, looked at her. “You’ll have to get on top, Elizabeth, or else I’ll bleed all over you,” he said with a glance down at his bare body.
“Quiet!” she commanded. “Save your strength to get well.”
As she spoke, Rab began pulling the carcass of an enormous, long-tusked boar into the clearing. The dead animal’s face was covered in blood and there were several knife wounds in its side.
“So you won a fight with a boar,” she said in disgust, tenderly wrapping him in the plaid she wore about her shoulders. “I don’t guess it occurred to you not to ride out alone.”
Before she could say another word, Rab dragged another boar carcass to lie beside the first one, this one also slashed.
Elizabeth began to wipe Miles’s dirty face. “We’re going to take you not far from here where it’s warm and where it’ll be quiet. Now I want you to rest.”
Sir Guy with a man and woman came thrashing through the undergrowth, their arms slung with great heavy plaids.
“There’s a strong barely broth on the fire,” the woman said, “and oatcakes on the hearth. Bronwyn’ll send more plaids if ye need them.”
Sir Guy, kneeling, pulled the plaid off Miles’s body and studied the wounds, looking up in surprise when Rab pulled a third boar carcass into the clearing.