Plaid to the Bone (Bad in Plaid 1)

To his surprise, she scoffed. “ ‘Tis nae owl, unless ‘tis a verra ill one. Mayhap one who swallowed a trumpet. And who is alarmed to find a sturgeon up his arse.”

A sturgeon?

Kenneth’s lips twitched, and he cursed himself for allowing the distraction. “I dinnae think owls have arses.”

“Well, either way, ‘tis a poor imitation of an owl. Clearly whoever is warning us of this danger has never met a healthy owl.” She stepped in front of him, facing the forest, one hand on her cocked hip, and the other cupped around her mouth. “Who! Who!”

“Who?” he asked, wrapping his arm about her waist and trying to drag her behind him. “Who is the best ye can do?”

She sent a scowl over her shoulder at him, although he could still see the humor twinkling in her eyes. “An owl says who. Any clot-heid kens that! Who!”

Lifting her bodily, he told himself he wasn’t at all distracted by the feel of her soft warmth pressed full against him, and carried her toward the boulder. At least there she’d be better protected—

The sound of a horse crashing through the underbrush had him whirling about in time to see Brodie’s mare burst into the little clearing. His man was pale, with blood running from one temple.

Before Kenneth could ask, his bodyguard’s eyes dropped to where Kenneth held the beautiful little sprite, and his lips twitched.

“Who?”

“See?” Leanna declared proudly. “An owl says who!”

“Aye, aye, and a sheep says baa,” Kenneth barked, before putting her back down on her feet firmly.

Brodie croaked, “A horse says neigh.”

“A cow says moo!” she declared happily.

“And I’m surrounded by bairns,” Kenneth growled as he strode toward his friend. “What happened?”

Brodie shifted in his saddle and Kenneth saw the extent of his injuries. His gaze flicked between the fletching poking over his shoulder to the arrow protruding from Brodie’s left knee. His leg wasn’t even in the stirrup, and Kenneth had to assume the man had no control over that limb.

His own gasp nearly covered Brodie’s reply of, “Bandits.”

Before Kenneth could speak, Leanna stepped forward.

“Och, ye puir man.” She nodded to the second arrow protruding from the back of Brodie’s shoulder. “How are ye even in the saddle? Nae matter, we’ll have ye fixed up in nae time.”

Kenneth was beginning to suspect this was a habit of Leanna’s, to answer her own questions before anyone else had the opportunity. But her bold declaration made him raise his brow in her direction.

“Fix him up?” he repeated incredulously.

‘Twould likely be a miracle if Brodie could ever walk again, and the bandits might be close. With that in mind, he turned back to his friend.

“How far behind ye?”

The other man shook his head. “I dinnae ken, but I havenae heard much pursuit.”

“Of course no’,” Leanna said authoritatively, as she tied on a simple belt with a small sheath and dagger around her waist. “Everyone kens bandits have nae honor and are cowards. They’ve done their worst and now will slink back to their hideaways, where Doughall and Coira will root them out.”

Kenneth blinked, her words raising even more questions, but still he tried to focus on the issue at hand, now that he knew they weren’t in imminent danger, beyond Brodie’s wounds. “Bandits, milady?”

“The same ones Coira mentioned this morning, I dinnae doubt. Doughall—he’s the Oliphant commander—is already out searching for them.”

Carefully, knowing Brodie’s pain was growing and they were running out of time to help him, Kenneth asked, “Ye’re an Oliphant?”

“Aye,” she declared proudly. “One of the laird’s daughters. My sister is a healer—remember Nicola? I’m certain I mentioned her to ye. She’ll fix yer friend right up and mayhap give him some owl-hooting lessons while she’s at it.”

“Who?” repeated Brodie weakly, and Kenneth turned back to him.