Page 8 of Highlander’s Dangerous Love

Colin dismounted his horse and hurried over to Bryce.

“Christ, man. Can ye see or hear me?” he asked. As long as Bryce was still able to speak and know where he was, that was a good sign.

“Aye,” Bryce said wearily, his face much paler than usual.

“Can ye move yer arms and legs?” Colin helped him to sit up as he inspected his friend for any damage.

Bryce wriggled his fingers and toes and shook his arms and legs.

“I dinnae think anything is broken,” he said.

“Can ye see? How many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Colin asked, flashing three fingers.

“Three,” Bryce said, annoyed, batting Colin’s fingers away. “Stop fussin’ over me like an old maid.”

“‘Tis my duty tae protect the son of the laird. Even from fearsome beasts such as garden snakes,” Colin said with a lopsided grin.

“Oh aye, ye think yer funny, do ye?” Bryce brushed the dirt off his kilt and stood up, clearly a little woozy.

“Steady there, lad,” Colin warned. When Bryce turned around, Colin saw that there was a small trace of blood at the back of his head.

“Och, Bryce. I think ye should go back tae the keep an’ have the healer look at ye.”

“Colin, I’m fine. I can handle—woooo,” Bryce stumbled a bit, then reached up to feel the back of his head. When he drew his hand away, his fingertips showed blood. “Oh, aye. Indeed. Aye, I’ll go back.”

“Good lad,” Colin said, bading him sit down again. He arranged for another of the party to take him back to the castle, seeing as his horse had fled, and he was clearly in no mental or physical condition to make the long journey back.

The hunt would go on as planned as Bryce insisted there was no sense in stopping it on his account. As Bryce and another man rode back to the castle, Colin watched until they were out of sight. It was no joke, being thrown from a horse. It had happened to Colin before, and he’d felt woozy the entire week. But a small part of him wondered if that had been Providence’s way of telling Bryce that Gemma was not the lass for him. And then, of course, he felt guilty about such a thought. Bryce was his lifelong friend; he did not deserve to be grievously injured simply because he was interested in the same woman as Colin.

He could not let Bryce have Gemma. There had to be a way to convince him otherwise. It was all Colin thought about during the rest of the hunt.

“Goodness,Master Bryce. This must’ve been quite the nasty fall ye had,” the older healer, Mrs. Grimm, commented. She was a short, plump, gray-haired woman, well past her childbearing years. She’d been the castle’s healer since her children were wee, and she was still here. No doubt caring for her own children had taught her a thing or two about cleaning up cuts and bruises.

“Aye, it didnae feel so braw,” he answered. He hissed as the herbal concoction touched the wound.

“Hold still. I ken it stings, but it’ll clean out the wound. Yer lucky ye dinnae bash yer skull open. I can fix almost all broken bones, but I cannae fix a cracked skull.”

“‘Tis a good thing nothin’ else is broken,” he said, wriggling his fingers and toes as if to prove that to her.

“Oh, aye. I’ve seen plenty of broken wrists from people tryin’ tae break their fall. Nasty business. An’ ‘tis a good thing too that yer horse didnae trample ye. The poor beast doesnae ken anythin’ but fear in that moment. ‘Tis not its fault, but results can be ugly.”

Colin had been thrown from a horse once, Bryce remembered. He’d broken some ribs, so Bryce was a fair bit luckier than him that day.

“‘Tis good I came back, then?” he asked.

“Aye. Ye just need rest now.”

Bryce let the healer finish her work in silence. He was still thinking about the conversation in the woods right before the accident. Something about that hunt had felt…off, to say the least. From the moment he and Colin had started talking about lasses and marriage, something in his body said it simply wasn’t right. It was an unsettling feeling that crept up on him like a cold winter’s night. Colin had seemed perturbed when Gemma’s name had been brought up. Was there something between them? That could not be; surely he would have told him. In any case, Gemma was still unclaimed. There was no obvious suitor, no proposals, and no ring. As far as he was concerned, it was only fair. Sure, there were other lasses, but…Gemma was the only one he felt was worth something. She was a treasure indeed, and he wanted to claim such treasure for himself. Gemma Gordon was the prettiest lass in the castle; perhaps all the town. Why shouldn’t he have her? Usually Colin was supportive in most of his endeavors. The entire conversation was just…odd.

After cleaning and bandaging the cut at the back of his head, the healer instructed Bryce to lie down for a bit. He was all too happy to comply. Earlier, he’d been so sure he was alright, but clearly he’d fallen harder than he thought. He still felt a little dizzy, and the back of his head throbbed a little. But he was alive, and no bones were broken, which was more than many men in similar situations could say.

He pondered the conversation as he walked back to his room, examining it from every angle. Perhaps his own mind was too addled. He had fallen rather hard, after all. As he walked back to his bedchamber, mind and body weary and ready for sleep, he heard laughter from the end of the hallway. It piqued his curiosity. Usually everyone was busy at this time of day; who could be here now? This was the corridor in which his family slept. Perhaps the maids found something amusing. With nothing better to do except sleep, he decided to see what it was. Perhaps it was a bonny maid — he could use the sweet smiles and warmth of a pretty woman after his fall. Maybe a little roll in the hay would right his spirits.

As he approached the source of the laughter, he realized it was coming from his parents’ bedchamber. He’d thought the laird was out in town doing his visits, so what was happening here? Bryce stooped and peeked through the keyhole. What he saw made the blood chill in his veins.

His mother was laughing, because Douglas Frazier, his father’s right hand man, Colin’s father, was making her laugh — in bed. He watched as they kissed passionately. The sight made his stomach turn, and he abruptly stood up. No, this could not be true. His mother wasn’t really having an affair with Master Frazier. One more look in the keyhole solidified his unfortunate discovery.

“Christ almighty,” he muttered to himself. He’d hit his head hard, but not hard enough to warrant hallucinations. This was grave, very grave indeed. Bryce tore himself away from the sight and scampered off to his own bedchamber, where he flopped onto bed immediately, not even bothering to take off his boots.