He searched everywhere in the keep proper that Aftyn might be, and headed out to the laundry, blacksmith, and buttery, thinking that his men had time enough to leave, so there would be no issue if he was seen in the bailey. Braden found him leaving the keep.
“I’ve been searching for ye,” Braden said, out of breath.
“Have ye seen Aftyn anywhere? I canna find her.”
“’Tis for her I sought ye. She’s been hurt. She needs ye.”
17
Braden on his heels, Jamie headed for the village, but slowed when he heard Braden struggling for breath. “Where is she, lad?” He stopped once they exited the keep’s gate and turned to Braden, who bent over and gasped for air. “Take yer time. Breathe,” Jamie told him as he placed a hand on Braden’s bare nape. His lungs and throat were slightly constricted, from fear and exertion, not from his affliction. Jamie gently eased them open, gratified when he heard Braden’s breathing even out.
“I’m alright,” Braden told him. “She’s with Mhairi.”
“Take yer time getting there,” Jamie told him. “I’ll go ahead and see how she is.”
“’Tis bad,” Braden said. “I’m sorry to slow ye down. Sorry I didna find ye sooner.”
Jamie clapped him on the back, then ran for Mhairi’s cottage, grateful that most of the villagers were in the foggy fields or within their homes.
He didn’t bother to knock. He flung open the door and rushed in. “Where’s Aftyn,” he demanded, blinking rapidly, peering into the relative darkness of the interior. Finally, he saw Mhairi, who bent over a still form on the wee couch Jamie had assumed her son used.
“Here, healer. She needs ye.”
He glanced around. “Braden is coming. Please go meet him and tell him to wait outside. Ye, too, if ye will. I’ll call for ye if I need anything.”
Mhairi hesitated. “I should stay to help ye.”
Jamie needed her outside. “Braden was having trouble breathing,” he said, hoping he lied, and that Braden still breathed easily after he helped him. “Could ye check on him, please?”
That got her moving. Alone with Aftyn, he dropped to his knees beside her. Blood and dirt covered her. Her hair tangled around her head and over the tear streaks through the dirt on her cheeks. Curled up in a ball of agony, she looked as if she'd been dragged by a horse or survived a pitched battle. Perhaps she had. Dismay filled him even before he touched her.
He bent closer, his chest tight with fear for her, and murmured, “Dear God, Aftyn, what happened to ye, lass?”
“Agatha’s husband, and Mhairi’s,” she answered, rocking a little. “At the stable."
She surprised him. Even though her voice was weak and strained, relief that she was awake let his chest expand. He took a breath.
“They said healers… useless. I screamed. Cried. No one to help me.”
Her whimper broke his heart.
“So they hit me.” A tear leaked from one very swollen eye. “Knocked me down. Kicked me.” She took another ragged breath. “Dragged me by my hair. Did it again… and again.” She shuddered. “I fought. Nay good.”
Fury filled Jamie, deeper and redder than any fury his temper had endowed him with in his life. Two men beating a lass? “I’ll get them for this. There’s nowhere they can hide.” He ran a hand gently along Aftyn’s curled form, touching skin through her torn clothes. He winced as he assessed what the men had done to her. What he found shocked him. How was she still alive? “Did they…”
“Nay. Enough… to beat me… I guess. Carried me past… gate… guards in… blanket and dumped me behind Mhairi’s… where ye left Rory. Message… ye're next.”
Jamie shook his head. “The two o’ them canna take me. They'd best bring more men.”
Aftyn frowned at his boast. “She… must have heard. Got me inside… when men left. Sent Alastair… for ye.”
“Braden found me. I havena seen her lad.”
“I hope… men dinna have him.”
“Once I see to ye, I’ll find out.”
“Everything hurts.”
