by Lynsay Sands
"Aye, by rights they should ha'e been yer opponents," Alick put in now. "And yet the bunch o' ye ended up being friends and even with the bride herself." He shook his head. "It seems so unlikely."
"I did no' see them as opponents," Murine said quietly and the sound of her voice drew Dougall's gaze back to her. It was the first time she'd responded with more than a one-word answer to his brothers' efforts to draw her out. Murine had been oddly quiet during the past two hours since they'd broken camp. A fact that his brothers had obviously noted and had been trying to rectify with constant questions and comments. It seemed they were finally making some headway.
"How could ye no' see them as opponents?" Alick asked with exaggerated dismay. "Ye were all vying for the same man's attention."
"There was no vying," she said dryly. "He was already married when he arrived."
"Aye. It must ha'e been a shock and disappointment to all ye lasses when the Sinclair arrived with a bride in tow," Geordie commented.
"It was a surprise, aye, but no' so much a disappointment," Murine assured them. "When I saw all the lasses there I did no' expect he'd choose me anyway."
Dougall frowned and glanced sharply toward Murine at that comment. The woman obviously undervalued herself if she thought that was true. Any man with eyes in his head would have been drawn to her, but it was Alick who gave an outraged squawk and said, "What nonsense! Had he no' already married Lady Joan, 'tis sure I am he would ha'e married ye. In fact, he no doubt regretted marrying the English wench once he met ye."
Murine smiled crookedly at the claim and pointed out, "Yer sister was one o' the women there."
"Oh. Aye." Alick frowned, probably worrying Saidh might catch wind of his comments, Dougall thought with amusement. Still, his younger brother straightened in the saddle and risked Saidh's wrath by saying, "But I'd pick ye o'er Saidh any day."
"O' course ye would, she's yer sister," Murine pointed out dryly. "However, ye did no' see the other women there with us. There were much prettier lasses than me there." Before any of the men could protest, she added, "Mind ye, not all o' them were as pretty in personality as they were in looks."
"Like the one who tried to kill Saidh and Lady Joan?" Geordie suggested dryly. "From what Saidh said, she was a terrible bitch."
"I do no' care for that term. However in this case I'd ha'e to agree. She was a terrible bitch," Murine said primly and Dougall's brothers chuckled.
"I can understand ye and Saidh becoming friends, but it does seem a stretch that ye both befriended Sinclair's bride too," Conran commented when the laughter died away.
"Ye forgot Edith. She is a good friend now too," Murine pointed out and then continued, "As for Jo . . ." She hesitated and then shrugged helplessly. "We could no' help it. Jo is lovely and smart and charming and so very generous. Why, do ye ken, her uncle gave her scads of cloth as a wedding gift and she let all of us choose material for our own gowns from it. And that despite kenning we had all come there in the hopes of winning her husband." Murine shook her head, apparently marveling over that herself, and then stilled and raised a hand to the wound at her temple as if the action had caused it to throb.
"Is yer head troubling ye again, lass?" Conran asked before Dougall could.
"Nay, I'm fine," Murine said with a forced smile, allowing her hand to drop away from her head.
The woman couldn't lie worth beans, Dougall decided. It seemed obvious that the tincture Alick had given her was wearing off. In fact, he suspected it had probably done so hours ago. That might explain her odd silence during the first part of the ride, he thought.
Frowning with concern now, Dougall glanced along the trail ahead, briefly taking note of where they were and what was along the path between here and Buchanan. They'd left so late that he'd planned for them to eat their sup in the saddle as they rode, but he wouldn't have Murine in pain. If they stopped to eat the evening meal, Alick could mix up some more of that tincture Rory had given him and then they could continue on their way after Murine had downed it and gained some relief.
"There's a pretty meadow o' wildflowers ahead," Conran announced and when Dougall glanced to him in question, he added, "If ye're looking fer a place to stop to eat, I mean. There's a nice brook beside the meadow fer the horses to drink from too."
Dougall nodded, but then narrowed his eyes when he noted the knowing grin that claimed his brother's face. Before Dougall could ponder it too deeply, Murine turned sharply so that she could glance between him and Conran.
"Stop?" she asked with alarm. "Nay! Ye said 'twould be quite late ere we reached Buchanan as it is. Stopping would just delay us further."
"Aye, but yer head is paining ye," he said gruffly. "Ye need another o' Alick's tinctures."
Murine looked briefly torn, but then shook her head, wincing even as she did. The small move obviously pained her, but her expression remained firm as she said, "Nay. I'll be fine. I can have more tincture when we reach Buchanan. I'll survive until then."
Before Dougall could respond, Alick urged his mount closer and said, "There's no need to wait. I feared ye'd need more so when Dougall told us we were heading out after all I made a full batch o' me tincture just in case. Here ye are."
"Thank ye, Alick," Murine murmured, smiling her relief. It was the first smile she'd worn since the waterfall, and it was aimed firmly at his younger brother, Dougall noted with displeasure as he watched Murine reach for the skin of tincture. She nearly tipped herself out of Conran's lap with the action, but Conran caught her by the waist to save her from the tumble. While Dougall appreciated it, he couldn't help the way his whole body tensed in reaction. Nor could he help feeling that he wanted to punch his brother, hard. He did not like to see another man's hands on the woman. Even his brother's.
And wasn't that a damned telling reaction? Dougall grimaced as that thought slid through his mind. He didn't need any proof that he cared for the woman and was jealous of any attention his brothers gave her. He'd already decided to marry the wench. There was not much more proof that could be as convincing as that, surely?
Shaking his head at himself, Dougall watched Murine settle back in Conran's arms with the skin of tincture Alick had given her. She was quick about opening and lifting it to her lips, and then she eagerly gulped it down. That more than anything told him just how much her head was paining her. It also made him glance to Alick and ask with concern, "Should she take so much o' it in one sitting?"
"Oh, 'tis fine," Alick assured him cheerfully. "There is nothing in there that can harm her. Well, except for the whiskey mayhap. She wouldn't want to down it all in one sitting, but if she sips it throughout the ride she should be fine." When Dougall raised one dubious eyebrow, he shrugged and added, "Well, plum fou, but fine otherwise."
Shaking his head, Dougall glanced back to Murine, relieved when she lowered the skin with a little sigh of disappointment. He suspected she'd hoped the tincture would take immediate effect. Conran must have thought the same thing, because he reminded her gently, "It took near on to half an hour to begin to ease the pain when Alick gave it to ye earlier."
"Aye," Murine agreed on a sigh. Lips twisting wryly, she then admitted, "But I was hoping if I took twice as much, it might work twice as fast."
That surprised a small laugh from Conran, but he shook his head at that reasoning. "I do no' think it works that way."
"Nay," she agreed, sounding sad.
Smiling sympathetically, he suggested, "Why do ye no' settle yerself against me and rest fer a bit?"
Murine peered at him uncertainly for a moment, appearing tempted by the offer, but then she merely shook her head and tipped the skin to her lips again.
Dougall's mouth tightened at the exchange, but he remained silent and simply watched Murine as she continued to gulp down the liquid. She was a determined little thing. He knew from experience that Rory's tinctures were the vilest tasting creations possible, and judging by her expression this was no exception. But she kept at it, apparently determined
to take in as much of the tincture as she could stomach.
Recalling how soused she'd been earlier and how it had loosened her inhibitions by the waterfall then, Dougall found himself grateful that she wasn't riding with him. At least that's what he told himself, but he couldn't help noticing that the more she drank, the more she seemed to slump against Conran. And the more she did that, the harder Dougall's teeth ground together. It wasn't that Dougall didn't trust Conran with Murine, but he still didn't like Murine being that close to him.
His thoughts broke off when Murine gasped as she nearly dropped the skin. Conran caught it for her, but when she slurred a "thank ye" and reached to take it, Dougall leaned over and plucked it from his brother's hand.
"Hey," Murine protested.
"Ye've had enough," Dougall said grimly as he recapped the skin. He then tossed it back to Alick before returning his gaze to her, his eyebrows rising when he saw that rather than glare at him with annoyance for his high-handed actions, she'd slumped against Conran and was already drifting off to sleep.
Dougall eyed her with a frown, then glanced to Alick. "What the devil is in that tincture?"
"Some burdock, coriander and coltsfoot to stave off fever, chamomile for headache, valerian, yarrow and some simpler's joy for pain." He shrugged. "Rory mentioned a couple other things I can't recall."
"And the whiskey?" Dougall suggested.
"Oh, nay, I just poured the mix in the whiskey to cover the taste. 'Tis a vile mixture," Alick said with a grimace. Brightening, he added, "But it appears to have helped with the pain too."
Dougall rolled his eyes and then glanced back to Murine. She appeared to have fallen asleep in Conran's arms. The whiskey was probably behind that, he thought, and aye, she appeared to be feeling no pain now, but he suspected the whiskey would cause her some pain later.
Sighing, he reached out to pluck her from Conran's lap to his own, then took a moment to settle her so that her side was against his chest and he could better see her face. That way he would know when she woke.
Dougall was aware that Conran was watching him silently, but didn't return his gaze or explain his actions. He was the one who had requested Conran take her up on his own horse in the first place. He could now decide she was better off with him if he liked. Besides, he'd already told Conran of his decision to marry Murine. She was his now, so ignoring his brother's questioning look, he simply urged his horse to a faster pace, determined to cover as much ground as possible before the sun set and darkness made the ride more treacherous and forced them to slow.
Murine jolted awake, sucking in a sharp breath as she was punched violently in the back. She whirled then to peer over her shoulder to see who had hit her, and then stared with confusion at Conran Buchanan. Last she knew, she'd been riding with the man, but now she was sitting sideways in--
She turned back to look at the man who presently had one arm around her upper back and found herself blinking up at Dougall. How had she ended up riding with him again? Murine wondered over that, then glanced around again at a bark of sound from Conran. The man had been looking forward when she'd first glanced around, but her moving must have drawn his gaze. He was now staring at her back and with something akin to horror. Murine lowered her gaze and caught a glimpse of the fletching of an arrow that appeared to be protruding from her lower back and then Conran barked out a warning.
The sound caught Dougall's ear and he automatically started to slow to glance around. The moment he did, Conran bellowed, "Faster, Dougall, faster! We're under attack!"
He followed that up by leaning over to slap Dougall's stallion firmly on the rump and the beast immediately burst into a charge that made Dougall curse and take a firmer grip on the reins. His arms automatically tightened around her as he did and the action must have nudged the arrow in her back, because the odd numbness that had followed the punching sensation suddenly gave way to searing pain.
Crying out, Murine grabbed at Dougall's linen shirt and tartan, using her hold on it to pull herself around and try to shift to a position that might ease the pain. There was no such position, however. Or, if there was, she couldn't find it, and gave up the task to merely bury her face in the cloth on his chest, trying to stifle the scream that was attempting to rip its way out of her throat. She'd stayed like that for several minutes before she became aware that the drum of the horses' hooves around her had become a staccato tap.
Raising her head, Murine saw that it was dawn and they were crossing a drawbridge. Twisting her head to peer ahead of them, she glimpsed the curtain walls of a castle just as they rode through them and into a bailey.
Buchanan, she thought with relief. She must have slept through the better part of the ride. Murine turned her face back to Dougall's chest and buried it there again. While she was relieved to have arrived, that didn't ease the pain burning in her back. It did mean that it could be tended to soon though.
Murine grimaced at the thought, knowing she would suffer a lot more pain as they tried to remove the arrow before she gained any relief . . . and yet she was still awake. Where was her habit of fainting when it would be useful? she wondered and then raised her head to glance around again at the sound of male voices hailing them.
Dougall had ridden straight to the stairs to the keep rather than the stables, she saw as he reined in. A whole mess of men had spilled out of the building and were rushing down the stairs toward them, and every last one of them looked concerned, she noted. Several of them also looked very alike, all tall and broad with long dark hair and similar facial features like the men she had traveled with. She knew Saidh had seven brothers, so three of the men rushing toward them were probably the brothers Aulay, Rory and Niels she had yet to meet. The others must be cousins or otherwise related, she thought.
One of the men, one with his hair not quite covering a scar that halved his handsome face like a dividing line, moved in front of the others to peer over her with concern, his mouth tightening as his gaze moved to her back and the arrow protruding from it. The man who could only be Saidh's eldest brother, Aulay, then glanced over his shoulder and ordered, "Ye'd best fetch yer weeds, Rory."
Rory was just a touch smaller than his eldest brother. He was also unscarred and while he too had long hair, he wore it tied back in a loose ponytail behind his head. Nodding, the younger man turned to rush up the stairs and back into the keep.
Aulay then turned back to Dougall, and raised his arms. "Pass her down."
Dougall released the reins and started to shift Murine in his arms until she faced him and dangled off the side of the horse, but then he caught her alarmed expression and paused. There was just no way he could pass her to the other man without the risk of bumping the arrow. At this angle, Aulay would have difficulty taking her without doing so, and did Dougall turn her to face his brother to make sure the arrow wasn't in Aulay's way when he took her, the arrow would most like be bumped by Dougall himself.
Cursing, he eased her back into his lap, shifted one hand under her legs and the other to rest high on her back where it was least likely to jostle her injury, then quickly shifted his leg over his mount and slid off to land lightly on his feet still holding her. Despite how light the landing was, Murine had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as the small jolt sent pain shooting through her back.
"I'm sorry, lass," Dougall said gruffly, pressing her closer as if to shield her from the pain as he started to move.
Murine didn't glance around to see, but was quite sure he was carrying her up the stairs to the keep entrance. A moment later she felt a slight breeze as someone rushed past them and she heard a squeak that she guessed would be the door opening. When she opened her eyes a moment later, Dougall was carrying her into the castle and she blinked to try to adjust to the darker interior.
"Who is she?" Aulay asked once the door closed behind them, leaving most of their welcoming party still outside.
"Lady Murine Carmichael, soon to be Lady Murine Buchanan, me wife," Dougall said grimly.
Murine stiffened and then leaned back slightly to turn wide shocked eyes up to his face. "Yer wife?" she asked in a confused whisper.
"Aye," he growled and pressed her head back to his shoulder, muttering, "Rest."
"But ye're no' in the market fer a wife," Murine murmured with confusion.
Dougall's eyebrows rose at that comment, but before he could respond, someone asked, "Not the Murine who is Saidh's friend?"
"Aye, Niels," Dougall said grimly. "The verra lass."
"What happened?" Aulay asked next.
"She apparently has been shot with an arrow," Dougall said dryly.
For some reason that struck Murine as funny and she released a little gasping laugh that truly sounded more like a grunt or snort.
It made Dougall slow and glance worriedly down at her. "Are ye all right, lass?"
"Ye mean other than being shot with an arrow?" she whispered with a crooked smile.
Dougall's lips twitched with appreciation at the echo of her words, but he merely continued walking, carrying her the last few steps to the stairs and starting up them with her.
"She has no' fainted."
Murine lifted her head with surprise at that comment from Alick. She'd thought him still outside. But then she hadn't looked around much. Now she did and saw that Geordie and Conran were there too, along with Aulay and another man who could only be Niels.
"Aye, ye're right, she hasna," Conran agreed grimly, following them up the stairs. He shook his head. "More's the pity."
"What?" Murine scowled at him over Dougall's shoulder. "All the four o' ye ha'e done is harp on about me fainting, and now that ye've fed me up and filled me full o' yer tinctures I'm no' doing it and ye think 'tis a pity?"
"Now, lass," Conran said soothingly. "I just meant 'twould be easier fer ye were ye in one o' yer faints jest now."
"Aye," Dougall muttered and then paused as he reached the top of the stairs and frowned down at her as he suggested, "Mayhap ye should try and faint."
When Murine merely gaped at him, Aulay murmured, "Saidh's room, I think, Dougall. Rory is no doubt waiting for her there."
Dougall scowled at his brother and turned left off the stairs. "My room. I told ye I'm marrying her."
