Part 4 (1/2)
Adam looked back at the woman. She had tied the ends of the reins together and left them drooping upon the horse's neck. Her arms cradled her chest, and distress etched her features, the very picture of misery.
Belatedly he wondered if she was unaccustomed to riding. From her tense posture, he surmised she feared what lay ahead at Castle Moy. He could only guess that her reception would be less than warm, although no one would be outright cruel. The laird's offer of hospitality bound each clansman to civil behavior, at least.
Anxious to begin questioning her about her collusion with Leod, he reined in his horse, allowing hers to catch up. When it was nearly abreast of him, the beast stumbled, pitching Gwenyth forward. He saw her bite her lip, but a sob escaped and tears filled her eyes.
”Halt,” he ordered, and his men reacted quickly. Her animal stopped, more in response to the other horses than from her command. Her distress unnerved Adam, for he could not abide another's suffering. He dismounted, chastising himself for not taking the time to a.s.sess the extent of the woman's injuries.
She lifted her head, and the bruise on her temple fairly glowed, it was so vivid. He quickly dispelled conjecture on her other injuries, willing away the sick feeling that accompanied the thought.
Golden brown eyes gazed at him with not a little trepidation. He sensed a deep-seated wariness and pain. He had experience in dealing with suffering in the aftermath of violence against his person. Her body would mend, given time, but he knew only too well the mind healed slowly, if at all.
He would punish the man who had done this.
Adam reached for her hand, but she jerked it back. In her haste, she took a deep breath and cried out in agony, clutching at her rib cage.
”I'm sorry, my lady. Do not agitate yourself.” He called to one of his men to help her dismount, knowing his own clumsy efforts were likely to injure her further.
The other man set her on the ground beside Adam, then gathered her horse's reins and stepped aside to give his laird privacy. ”You've some damaged ribs?” he asked.
She nodded, all she seemed capable of.
”Did you bind them?”
She shook her head.
Disgusted with himself for not thinking of it sooner, he ordered her to stand still. He went to his horse and pulled a section of cloth from the saddlebag. After folding it into a triangle, he walked back to her. ”Which side?” he asked.
She whispered, ”The left.”
As gently as he could, he placed the cloth beneath her arm and then tied the two ends together behind her neck.
”Rest your arm in this sling.”
When she complied, he took a second cloth and wrapped her arm firmly to her side.
”This will give the ribs support.” He took a deep breath. ”The man who did this to you should die. Do you know who it was?”
She hesitated, and he knew she would lie. ”I can't be certain. But it doesn't matter who it was, my laird. I would not trouble you to seek revenge on my account. It would grieve me to see you come to harm because of me.”
He didn't expect her to answer, but he asked anyway. ”Then why did you accuse me?”
She remained silent but appeared close to tears, as if it distressed her to deny him.
But he needed to understand why she'd behaved the way she had. ”You know that by not naming him you protect your attacker from punishment?”
”Aye, but he would not help me.”
”And you believe I will?”
She nodded. ”When I locate the cousin who was accompanying me, and when I am well enough, I should like to continue my journey to England. Will you help me?”
He smiled. ”Aye, la.s.s. I will.”
”Until then, I am grateful for your offer of sanctuary.”
He indicated his damaged limb. ”I'm not certain how well I'll be able to provide that safekeeping.”
”You have no use of the arm?”
”Some.”
She gazed at him, and in her lovely features he saw fear and desperation war with hope. But not a trace of the pity he had feared to find.
”I am willing to take that chance, sir, for no one would have protected me . . . there.” She waved weakly in the direction of the Macpherson stronghold. ”Laird Mackintosh, perhaps this marriage is a good bargain. You question your ability to protect as a man should. I must be equally honest. I'm not certain I'll ever be able to . . . to be a wife to you.”
She was so tiny, so weak; he feared a strong wind would blow her over. Stunned by an overwhelming wave of tenderness and a fierce desire to shelter her, Adam cupped her cheek. ”It wasn't your fault, la.s.s. Whatever happened, you are not to blame.”
She closed her eyes and surprised him by leaning into his hand for comfort, as if she needed to believe those words.
”Perhaps not. But there'd be no one to blame but myself if I had stayed there and Leod . . . I had to leave . . .” The tears that had threatened earlier now raced down her face as her iron control cracked. ”He would have killed you,” she whispered. ”I had to lie, to keep us all safe . . . I'm sorry.”
She had accused him to save him. She'd known Adam was innocent and lied to him. Adam didn't know how to respond.
Opening her eyes, she backed away and wiped her face with her unbound hand, as her composure returned. ”I did what I had to, even though it meant binding myself to a man who doesn't want me.” Her chin rose with those last words, daring him to wound her pride further.
So, she had defied Leod and accepted the consequences. And saved Adam's life in the process. His opinion of her softened. He tried to envision her face the way it had looked without the bruises, red-rimmed eyes, and deep-seated hurt. She was easy enough to look at, even now. His gaze lowered, and he saw her squirm at his obvious perusal.
But something more than physical attraction drew him. Though she was weakened and vulnerable just now, Adam sensed strength of character as well as determination in the woman. Strangely enough, her acceptance of his disability made him feel . . . competent.
”Angry as I am at being forced to wed, I much prefer it to your other choices, Gwenyth.”
His rueful humor wasn't lost on her, and she offered a weak smile. ”I'm certain you do.”
He would not trust her; he would not be a husband to her. But he could not deny her safe haven.
Blast his soft heart. ”Come. You are safe now.”
He prayed it was true.
FIVE.
WAS THIS CONSIDERATE MAN the same angry laird Gwenyth had handfasted with barely an hour ago? She welcomed the change, for his kindness held hope, and hope was an anchor that might carry her safely through the storm. An anchor that might constrain the despair that threatened to overcome her.
She tried to avert her face, but his hand gently held her chin fast, forcing her to meet his eyes. His earlier frosty gaze had warmed considerably.
” 'Tis the devil to ride wounded, especially on a clumsy beast, is it not?” he asked.