He straightened his clothing, slid his dirk into his belt and lifted his claymore, ready to defend Fiona if need be, unbolted the door and opened it a few inches.
Finn stood there looking worried. “Thank the saints. Kester picked a fight with one of the Rose men and, well, did some damage. The Rose is no’ pleased. He sends his regrets and demands ye deal with yer man. He wouldna accept that I could take care of the matter.”
Erik growled, but his shoulders dropped. There were no invaders at his door. He didn’t need to protect Fiona in her own keep. Nay, he needed to deal with one of his own men. He set the claymore aside. “Take me to him.” He gestured for Finn to move away from the door. The man had no business seeing Fiona in her wedding night chamber. He waved her over to stand behind the door. “Lock the door behind me and dinna open it until ye hear my voice,” he told her. “I dinna want anyone to disturb ye while I’m gone.”
“I will,” she said and put a hand on his arm. “Dinna be too long away.”
The roses in her skin, signs of her arousal and the pink he left with his kisses nearly had him closing the door and staying inside the chamber with her. But the summons of his host clan chief was not something he dared ignore. Now that Finn had moved toward the stairs and the way was clear, Erik opened the door, stepped through it and closed it, confident Fiona would lock it behind him as he’d asked.
He heard the bolt slide home before he’d taken two steps. Good lass.
Perhaps the only good thing in his life right now. Based on Finn’s expression, the Rose had called him from his marriage bed to deal with one of his men in a way that the Rose would not. Or could not without fear of ruining the relationship the wedding between Erik and Fiona was supposed to repair. As he made his way down the stairs, Erik forced himself to forget his irritation at being pulled away from his bride, and his fear of what he might be asked to do instead. He’d never heard of such a circumstance in all the Highlands. This could not, nay,wouldnot be good for Ross. But he would deal with it.
Instead of leading him to the laird’s solar as he expected, Finn led him to the keep’s herbal, where the healer worked feverishly on a man covered in blood. His arm, scored fromshoulder to elbow deep enough to bisect the muscle down to the bone, bled freely. Erik fought not to wince. He must remain calm and let her work. But where was the Rose? And why had Erik’s man done this?
He pulled Finn out of the chamber. “Answers, now,” he said, firmly but quietly. “What happened and why? Kester did this?”
Finn filled him in as best he could, but admitted, “I wasna there when it happened. Rose is talking to his men who were. ’Tis why I brought ye here, to see the import. That man may lose his arm, if no’ his life, this night. Ye wouldna want to be in that solar right now. At best, they might do the same to ye.”
“Where is Kester?”
“Rose’s men took him to whatever passes for a dungeon in this place. He has some injuries, but none so bad as that. I heard ’twas a fierce fight.”
“Why?”
“Why the fight? Too much ale and a buxom serving wench without the sense to stay out of the middle of a group of very drunk soldiers. Kester tried to use her. He handled her, got her skirts up to her knees, before the man in there charged him to stop what he planned to do.”
Erik’s belly hollowed. This was worse than a simple drunken brawl for pawing at a serving wench. Fighting could be excused, even fighting that caused serious injuries, though not if the man in the herbal died on the healer’s table. Then, Ross would owe Rose a life. As it was, Kester would be lucky to keep his cods for what he’d tried to do to a lass in a strange keep. If Rose didn’t take them, Erik might do it himself.
“Shite!” He muttered under his breath.
“What do ye want me to do?” Finn crossed his arms and frowned. “I can keep watch here while ye deal with the Rose, but I warn ye to take the rest of our men with ye to guard yer back.”
Erik wanted more than anything to go back upstairs to Fiona and forget that any of this had happened. Second best would be to pummel Kester with his fists until the man bled like the one on the healer’s table. Last would be to deal with a furious Rose laird, especially if his man died.
“We may all wind up in the dungeon with Kester,” Erik growled.
“Helluva wedding night, aye?”
“Dinna remind me. Where are the others?”
“In the great hall keeping an eye on the laird’s solar door for ye. They’ll have a sense of whether ’tis safe for ye to go in there yet.”
“Ye said he summoned me,” Erik reminded him.
“He did, but ye’d better no’ arrive until he sends for ye again. He’ll think ye are still busy with yer bride and I have yet to give ye his message.”
“I think he’s wiser than that. He kens I’m doing exactly this, so I can speak to him already aware of what happened. Or as aware as my own men are. His will ken more if they saw the fight.” He nodded, resolute. “I’m going. Keep me informed.”
“Aye, Laird Ross.”
Erik gave Finn a side-eyed frown and left him outside the herbal, where the smell of blood overpowered the scents of herbs and concoctions the healer kept there. In the great hall, his men stood when they saw him approaching.
“Laird,” Donnan said by way of greeting.
“What do ye ken?” Erik asked, not wanting to waste another minute.
“Kester went after a serving lass. A Rose objected and a fight broke out. More than the two of them. Everyone thinks Kester cut their man, but we’ve heard rumbles the man had enemies of his own and one of them might have taken advantage of the brawl.”
