Page 60 of Warrior’s Lady

Rhiannon tried to be as enthusiastic as her young charge, but her mind was whirling with anxiety. Was Camden safe? Was he going off to battle her family? She prayed the threat was English, though she knew her brothers were just as capable of treachery. But as ruthless as they were, did she really want Cory and Dougall to die? With them gone, she would be the sole remaining Ruthven. Even though she hadn't considered herself part of the family for years, she still felt a pang of grief at knowing she could be the last of the line.

Rhiannon cast a quick glance at the little girl who skipped back and forth by her side. Rhiannon had been alone until Violet and Camden had entered her life. But maybe now she had a new family of sorts. It was then that another chilling thought occurred to her. If her brothers found out she was living with their sworn enemy, would she be putting Camden and Violet at risk? Would her brothers inflict upon them the same painful end as Clara and James?

Fear twisted around her heart. When would her family's villainy stop?

"Rhiannon?" Violet ceased her archery lesson. She moved to Rhiannon's side and took her hand in her small fingers. "What's wrong?"

What could she say to make Violet understand her turmoil? Even if Camden could eventually learn to see past her Ruthven name and into her heart, could she accept his love knowing that doing so could place him and those he loved in danger?

"I'm merely overtired," she said, hoping Violet would not detect the lie. "Perhaps we should head back inside."

Violet nodded. The little girl gripped her bow in one hand and tightened her grasp on Rhiannon with her other as they headed back to the keep. They had barely entered the courtyard when Mistress Faulkner raced up to greet them.

"Mistress Rhiannon. Lady Violet." She skidded to a halt in a swirl of gray hair and brown skirts. "We need yer help."

Rhiannon's heart dropped to her knees at the woman's pale face and wild eyes. "Has something happened to Lord Lockhart?"

"Nay." She shook her head.

Relief washed over Rhiannon with such intensity that she staggered. Violet's firm grasp on her hand stabilized her. "Then what is the matter?"

"One of the warriors is hurt. It's bad. Please, you must come help the man, or at least tell us what to do."

Rhiannon was no healer. Assisting in the birth of Charlotte's child did not qualify her for anything more. And yet words to the contrary came out of her mouth. "Take us to him."

Mistress Faulkner led them to the keep and into the great hall where the injured warrior had been moved.

"Why did you do it, Rhys?" Orrin asked the man, who stood with the help of two warriors holding onto his arms. His shirt and breeches were wet and soaked in blood, and his hair was a wild wet mass. The man's pale and drawn face made Rhiannon smother a gasp of alarm. She feared it was already too late to do anything for him.

"I … had … no choice," Rhys said, his breathing raspy and labored. "He … threatened to … kill my son."

"Who?" Orrin asked, his voice harsh. "Who threatened your child?"

"The bishop," the dying man whispered.

A dark frown settled over Orrin's face.

"Ye must … believe me."

"I do." Orrin shook his head. "Seems that man's influence has touched many of our lives."

Rhiannon strode toward the small gathering, curious to know how the injured man had become separated from the others. "Were you one of the warriors fighting with Lord Lockhart?"

"Nay. I was not with … Lord Lockhart."

The man brought his glassy gaze to her face. Contrition reflected there. "I'm … sorry. I dinna … help ye. They shouldn't have … tried to burn ye."

Rhiannon's throat thickened at the mention of her own terror.

"What do you mean?"

Orrin spoke for the man. "Because of a threat to his child, this man was forced to help the bishop and his assassin capture you."

The implications of Orrin's words tumbled through Rhiannon's mind. The bishop had tried to burn her alive? A riot of emotions threatened, but she forced them back, her gaze returning to the injured man.

"Lay him near the hearth," she commanded the men. "We must help him."

Orrin signaled the men to move the man to the floor near the warmth of the flames.