His heart exploded in a burning fireball of terror. What in God’s name had happened? Who fired the shot?
He was acutely aware of the earl galloping at a breakneck speed behind him. They both rode hard toward Catherine, now lying motionless on the hillside.
Lachlan reached her and leaped off his horse. He knelt down and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Catherine!”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she grimaced with pain. “My arm…”
He glanced down at it. It was mangled and twisted. Unquestionably broken.
Blood was seeping through her bodice, just below her rib cage. He pressed a hand to the wound. “What happened?”
“It was Murdoch.…”
He turned on his heel to look up at the stone circle, cursing Raonaid for her treachery! Had she brought her lover here? Was this her plan all along? To kill Catherine and take the money for the Jacobites?
John galloped past him, riding up the hill just as Murdoch appeared from behind one of the stones. He was reloading his pistol.
Lachlan rose to his feet, drew his sword, and whipped his targe around to shield Catherine.
John drew his own pistol and fired a shot while still galloping. The ball missed its target, and John reined in his mount to reload.
Murdoch continued to advance upon them, his arm outstretched, his pistol aimed squarely, as if he fully intended to plow straight through Lachlan’s wall of defense and shoot another ball into Catherine’s heart.
Lachlan roared with fury and bolted forward in a full charge—with his shield in one hand, his claymore in the other. He would strike Murdoch down before he could reach Catherine.
I will not lose her.
But something from above caught Lachlan’s eye.
Raonaid moved out from behind a stone. She knelt down on one knee and threw her dirk. It spun through the air, end-over-end, and lodged itself deep in Murdoch’s back. His eyes glazed over with shock. His pistol dropped loosely from his grasp, and he fell forward onto the ground at Lachlan’s feet, twitched and moaned, then went still.
Lachlan glanced with surprise at Raonaid, then hurried back to Catherine. He dropped his sword and shield.
She was unconscious now, bleeding from the stomach. He rolled her over and saw the blood-soaked puncture wound at her back.
John came galloping toward them and skidded to a halt. “I shall send for the surgeon! May I leave her in your capable hands, sir?”
“Aye,” Lachlan replied as he gathered her limp form into his arms and whistled to Goliath. “I will bring her to the house. Fetch the surgeon,quickly.There is no time to spare. Tell him she has been shot in the back.”
John kicked in his heels and galloped furiously down the hill while Lachlan shifted Catherine in his arms. Carefully, he mounted Goliath. Once in the saddle, Lachlan cradled Catherine across his lap and clicked his tongue.
“Wait!” Raonaid came dashing down the hill. “Is she alive?”
“Aye,” he said. “Are you hurt, lass?”
“No, I’m fine. Murdoch is dead.”
Lachlan took note of the fact that she had a bloody lip and a cut eye. She must have fought Murdoch before he fired the shot.
“You did well with your dirk,” Lachlan said. “Your aim was true. Meet us back at the manor?”
“I will. Please get her home safely, Lachlan. I will bring your weapons back to you.”
He urged Goliath into a gentle canter and held Catherine close to his heart as they descended the hill.
***
Three hours after the shooting, Catherine still had not regained consciousness. The doctor arrived not long after Lachlan laid her in her bed, and later informed them that the pistol ball had passed through her abdomen without puncturing any organs, and he had been able to successfully stop the bleeding, but it was difficult to say whether or not she would survive. There was a dangerous risk of infection, and these things were impossible to predict.
