Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3) (13 page)

Wasn’t Jamie in the same quandary? He’d made his interest in her clear, but he was as conflicted as she. He was her friend, not her betrothed. He had been forced to deliver her to another man, whether he wanted to or not. He had no claim on her. Another man did—or was about to. If she hadn’t been surrounded by other women, she would have laughed at the irony. Sorcha’s question had put the shoe firmly on the other foot.

But for her to point another woman, especially Sorcha, in his direction? She paused, her needle poised over the cloth in her hands. Nay, she couldn’t do it. Her heart wouldn’t let her. In answer, she shrugged and smiled then told her, “I’m sure ye will meet them all at meals.”

Besides, Sorcha really had no business asking. Her delicate condition implied she had a husband. But judging by her demeanor, her condition was the only delicate thing about her.

****

A rustle in the undergrowth, followed by the hounds baying, alerted Jamie their prey lurked somewhere ahead. He and Fletcher exchanged glances as MacGregor pointed left and right, signaling his men to flank the foul-tempered beast they were hunting. Wild boar. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Fast. Many a horse, hound, and man had been gored in the attempt to trap and kill one, often by another boar near the quarry, unseen until too late.

Hunting boar was far from Jamie’s favorite sport. A red deer and a brace of rabbits would do just as well to feed a crowd, and hawking took more finesse, but propriety demanded he accept the MacGregor’s invitation. No doubt, MacGregor meant to test his mettle, and Fletcher’s. Only a bear, if there were any left in these parts, would pose more of a threat to its pursuers.

MacGregor lifted his longsword over his head, a feral grin lighting his face as he caught first Fletcher’s and then Jamie’s gaze. He brought his fist down level with his chest and kicked his mount forward. Flankers began beating the undergrowth around them, attempting to herd the beast toward the center and flush it with the help of the hounds. Jamie nocked an arrow, but kept his longsword in easy reach in case the beast charged. One arrow would not stop a boar, but several might, if they had time. If not, the fight would finish at close-quarters, the tusks and massive weight of the enraged and wounded beast only as far removed as the length of steel in a man’s hand.

He shifted and his horse advanced, Fletcher’s mount aligned on its flank. Jamie kept his gaze on the undergrowth in case the boar doubled back on the hounds. MacGregor and his men were hidden by the trees, but Jamie could hear them swearing as the beast escaped them. Fletcher moved off at an angle, and Jamie kicked his horse into a trot. Ahead, the hounds’ yelping signaled they’d cornered their prey again, but before Jamie could get close enough to see the situation, the excited baying erupted into canine screams of pain, quickly cut off. Jamie shook his head. The boar likely broke through, injuring or even killing a few of the dogs. Between the whimpering and barking hounds and the shouting, Jamie could not hear the boar. Had it kept going? Or did it linger somewhere in the undergrowth, nearby?

He turned his mount in Fletcher’s direction, meeting up with him quickly in a small clearing. They sat silently, listening, for several minutes as the confusion ahead of them sorted itself out. They could hear MacGregor berating one of his men for allowing the hounds to escape his control and giving the order for the injured dogs to be put down. Jamie and Fletcher exchanged a frown. If the hounds were hurt too badly to save then the master of hounds had let them get too far ahead of the men’s weapons. The dogs were no match for the tusks, especially of an enraged male boar. MacGregor continued to order his men into the woods, and the heavy beat of horses hooves replaced the shouting.

Suddenly, the undergrowth erupted on Fletcher’s side of the clearing. The boar charged straight for him, knocking his mount onto its side as Jamie fought to control his horse. The boar veered and gored the horse as it went down, trapping Fletcher half underneath its heavy back as it thrashed once and then stilled.

“Here!” A chorus of men’s voices answered Jamie’s shout as he fired one then two arrows in quick succession at the retreating boar. Its hind hooves disappeared into the brush as he leapt from his mount to go to Fletcher’s aid.

“Fletcher!” He knelt by the trapped man. He was alive, but his legs and one arm were pinned. He’d been fortunate to have fallen in such a way the horse’s bulk protected him from the charging boar, but Jamie had to free him or he’d be an easy target if the boar came back.

“Alive,” the man groaned, panting. “Get me out from under this infernal beast, will ye?”

Jamie snorted and managed to tug Fletcher’s arm free while the man groaned with pain. MacGregor and his men arrived then.

“Where’s the boar?” MacGregor’s demand didn’t surprise Jamie. The hunters had become the hunted. They needed to know where the next attack might come from.

“That way,” Jamie indicated. “I need some of yer men’s help to get Fletcher free.”

“First things first,” MacGregor answered and kicked his mount into motion, signaling his men to follow. The remaining hounds ran after.

Jamie surged to his feet, appalled they were leaving an injured man behind. “MacGregor!”

The retreating hoofbeats made it clear no one had turned around. Jamie swore then knelt by Fletcher.

“I’m going to try to free ye,” he reassured the wide-eyed older man, whose rapid breathing and sweat-covered face told Jamie that he had begun to panic.

“Ye canna do it by yerself.”

Jamie studied the ground around Fletcher and the horse then pulled his claymore and dug at it. Good. He found a layer of loam of at least a hand’s depth. If he could dig enough of it away around Fletcher’s trapped legs and if the horse’s body didn’t settle into the trenching, he might gain the space he needed to pull Fletcher free.

He set to work, pausing only a moment when shouting and baying erupted, followed by cheers. MacGregor had gotten his boar, it seemed. Jamie shook his head. Fletcher used his free arm and shoulder to shrug, which cheered Jamie. If his efforts had calmed the man enough for him to pay attention to what was going on around them rather than focusing on his pain and entrapment, Fletcher might better tolerate the situation until help returned. Jamie bent back to his digging. It quickly became clear he would not be able to reach far enough by himself, but he kept at it, not wanting to worry Fletcher.

One of MacGregor’s men returned, took a look at what Jamie was doing and spurred his horse back the way he came. In minutes, the rest of MacGregor’s men, followed by MacGregor, now covered in boar blood, arrived.

“What have we here?”

Jamie cut him a sharp glance. MacGregor knew full well what had happened. He’d ridden right past in his pursuit of the boar. But Jamie held his temper. “If yer men can lift the weight of the withers, even a little, I think I can pull Fletcher out. I’ve cleared the loam around his legs as far as I can reach.”

MacGregor waved his men over. They gripped the mane and shoulder and heaved. The horse’s body shifted a fraction, but not enough.

Fletcher groaned but didn’t budge despite Jamie’s best efforts to pull him free. “Again!” Jamie ordered. This time, they managed to clear a bit more and Jamie, gripping Fletcher under both arms, tugged for all he was worth.

“MacGregor, ye, too!” Jamie ground out through clenched teeth.

With an oath, the MacGregor dismounted and lent his shoulder to the men trying to shift some of the weight off Fletcher’s legs.

Jamie tugged harder, ignoring Fletcher’s groans and cries. He managed to move the man a few inches, no more, before the men dropped their burden.

“Again!” Jamie told them. “Get that wither up as high as ye can.”

One of the men moved around the horse, grabbed a foreleg and pulled while the others pushed. This time, it was enough.

Jamie managed to pull Fletcher free. He knelt and ran his hands along Fletcher’s legs. Not broken, thank the saints for that miracle. The soft loam had cushioned Fletcher’s limbs enough to prevent a break, but he would be badly bruised.

“Can ye stand?” Jamie asked as Fletcher sat up cradling his arm.

“I believe so.”

Jamie took Fletcher’s good arm and helped him up, but the injured man cried out and went down again before he fully gained his feet.

MacGregor, whom Jamie had heard ordering his men to retrieve the boar and the tack from Fletcher’s mount, approached. “What’s amiss?”

“My knee’s twisted,” Fletcher panted. “Won’t take my weight.”

“Ye’ll ride with me back to the keep,” Jamie said.

The MacGregor helped get Fletcher settled behind him. “Have the healer take a look at ye,” MacGregor said.

Jamie had no doubt it was an order.

“I’m going to enjoy hacking that boar to pieces,” MacGregor continued. “It cost me a horse and two good hounds.”

And nearly the life of the Fletcher, Jamie thought, but he kept quiet as he turned the horse away and kicked it into motion.

Chapter Nine

Jamie stood by as the healer and Caitrin tended to her father. Already, massive bruises had colored Fletcher’s arm and both legs, and his knee had swelled to the width of his upper thigh.

“Nothing broken,” the healer muttered as she applied cold water and poultices. “Sprained or bruised. Ye’ll limp for a while, but ye are a lucky man.”

Caitrin’s showed her relief at the healer’s pronouncement in her shoulders, which lowered as she breathed out a deep sigh.

Fletcher nodded then fussed whenever the healer applied any pressure to his bruises.

Jamie watched and fretted over how the Fletcher suffered those injuries.

MacGregor had ignored Fletcher in favor of finishing off the boar. The display of bloodlust and disregard for his prospective father-in-law alarmed Jamie more now that he thought back on it, than it had in the midst of the confusion. Aye, MacGregor had been right to deal with the danger posed by the wounded beast. But he should have left at least one man to help Jamie with Fletcher, or to stand guard. Did he care so little for his vassal clans? Or just Fletcher?

A chill crept up Jamie’s spine as he contemplated what would happen upon Fletcher’s death. Caitrin would become laird, and if MacGregor married her, he would add Fletcher territory to his holdings. Was that his plan? If so, marrying Caitrin to MacGregor put Fletcher in real jeopardy. The boar hunt might have been just the first attempt on his life. And if that were true, Caitrin would not long survive her marriage with her father already gone. Or did MacGregor want something else from this marriage? Jamie frowned at the tenor of his thoughts and vowed to discuss them with Fletcher as soon as the man had recovered sufficiently to deal with the implications of his injury.

Finally, the healer finished her ministrations and left the room.

Caitrin sat by her father’s side, holding the hand of his uninjured arm. She’d been talking softly to her father while the healer worked. Though she fell silent, her gaze never left him.

Her expression, with its soft smile, was intended to be reassuring, Jamie guessed. But the curve of her lips beckoned sweetly to him. The love in her eyes tortured him. He couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have that concern, that love, directed at him.

Fletcher cleared his throat.

Jamie tore his gaze from the daughter and looked at the father then felt heat rise in his face when he saw Fletcher’s gaze on him.

“Lathan.” Fletcher cleared his throat again.

“Aye.” Jamie straightened from where he’d been leaning on the wall, arms crossed, and dropped his hands to his sides.

“I owe ye my thanks for yer care today. Had ye no’ been there, I might no’ be here now.”

“Surely ye would. Ye’re no’ hurt that badly.”

“Nay, but how long would it have taken MacGregor to send someone back to me? And if the boar came back? Nay, ’tis well ye were there.”

“I’m glad to have been of service.” He cut a glance to Caitrin, who stared at him with brimming eyes, then looked back to her father. Was that gratitude, or adoration, Jamie saw behind her tears?

“I have another service to ask of ye, envoy.”

So this was to be a formal request. That did not bode well. “If I can, of course.”

“I couldha died out there today. Then who would care for my daughter? Guard her virtue and see her properly wedded and bedded?”

“Father!”

Caitrin’s exclamation didn’t slow her father. “While I am…indisposed…ye must do this,” Fletcher continued. “Uilleam doesna have the stature to rein in the MacGregor—or his men. But ye, the Lathan ambassador, with the weight of yer clan behind ye, ye can do it.”

“I dinna think that’s necessary—”

“I could still die of this, or of something that old healer has done in tending to me. Ye ken I’m right. I willna have my daughter or my clan misused.”

Jamie had to admit the man had a point. A fall of the sort Fletcher had taken could have caused unseen injuries. But to ask this! Placing her virtue in Jamie’s hands, knowing, Jamie suspected, full well how Jamie’s interest in Caitrin could affect his plans. Nay, he dared not think it. Especially not under Fletcher’s watchful gaze.

Dismay soured his belly when he looked at Caitrin and saw her blanch, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. Did her father’s admission that he still might be in danger cause her distress? What else could Jamie do but vow to protect her?

His heart hurt at the thought of Caitrin’s marriage to another man becoming his responsibility, rather than her happiness.
He wanted her.
He ground his teeth. Aye, he might as well admit it to himself, though he dared not say it aloud. Fletcher would rise up from the bed and kill him if it was the last thing he did and then turn to Will, whom he’d already damned as inadequate, to protect her. Nay, Jamie had to concede the point. No one else at MacGregor could do this.

But where did that leave his negotiation with the MacGregor? He still had a responsibility to convince MacGregor to sign the Lathan treaty. Would he be too much at cross-purposes to accomplish what his own laird required of him? Another glance at Caitrin’s welling eyes made that task secondary.