"Ada." His voice dropped low, steady, the voice he'd use to calm a spooked horse. "I need ye tae breathe fer me. Can ye dae that?"
She stared at him, her eyes too wide, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps that spoke of shock setting in. "I—I am breathin'—"
"Slow. Deep breaths. With me." Magnus demonstrated, drawing air in slowly through his nose, releasing it through his mouth. "Like this. Follow me."
Ada tried. He watched her chest hitch, watched her struggle to control the panic still flooding her system. On the second attempt, she managed it—a deeper breath that seemed to steady her slightly.
"Good. Again."
They breathed together, standing in the torchlit courtyard while chaos swirled around them. Guards shouting orders. Men still fighting the fire. Torvald organizing patrols to search for the escaped attacker.
But Magnus's world had narrowed to Ada. To the woman in front of him who'd been attacked in his keep, under his protection, while he sat in a war room discussing theoretical threats.
After a moment, Ada's breathing evened out. Some of the wild panic faded from her eyes, replaced by exhaustion and lingering fear.
"Better?" Magnus asked.
"Aye. I—" Ada swayed suddenly, her knees buckling.
Magnus caught her before she could fall, swept her up into his arms in one smooth motion. She made a small sound of surprise, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
He started toward the keep, carrying her like she weighed nothing. "Ye're in shock, and ye're hurt, and I'll nae have ye collapsin' in the middle of the courtyard. Ye're trembling." Magnus glanced down at her, his expression firm. "And yer lip is bleedin'. And there's a bruise on yer face the size of me fist. Ye're nae fine."
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. She seemed to realize that fighting him was pointless. Instead, she let her head rest against his shoulder, her body finally releasing some of the rigid tension that had held it locked.
Magnus carried her through the kitchen—the fire mostly contained now, though smoke still hung thick in the air—and up the stairs toward their chamber. Men stepped aside as he passed, their faces grim. Word had clearly spread about what happened.
About their lady being attacked and nearly taken.
"Me laird," Torvald called from behind them. "Should I send fer the healer?"
"Aye. Have Mairi come tae our chamber." Magnus didn't slow his stride. "And double the guard on all entrances. I want every man accounted fer. If there are more of them inside these walls, I want them found."
"Already done, me laird."
Magnus reached their chamber, kicked the door open since his hands were occupied with Ada. The room looked exactly as he'd left it—bed unmade, candles still burning, the bolt drawn back.
Evidence of Ada's departure. Evidence that she'd left safety because?—
Why had she left? What had drawn her from their chamber in the middle of the night?
Those questions could wait. Right now, she needed tending.
Magnus carried her to the bed and set her down gently on the edge. She immediately tried to stand.
"I should help with the wounded," Ada said, already reaching for her cloak. "If there was a fire, there might be burns, and I have supplies?—"
"Ada." Magnus caught her hands, held them still. "Sit. Please."
"But—"
"Sit."
The command in his voice finally broke through her determination. Ada sat, her shoulders slumping slightly as exhaustion caught up with fear.
Magnus knelt in front of her, bringing himself to her eye level. Now that they were in proper light, he could see the full extent of the damage. The split lip. The darkening bruise along her jaw. Her torn nightgown revealing a shoulder that would likely be black and blue by morning.
Rage threatened to overwhelm him again. Cold and terrible and demanding blood for what had been done to her.
