Page 239 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Talbot nodded. He scanned the horizon for other riders but found none. The rider drew closer and a prickle crept up his spine when he recognized the crest on the man’s mail shirt.

“Kinsley.” Baxter looked at Talbot. “They have barely had time to reach Banmore Castle.”

“Open the gate,” Talbot ordered, then turned and hurried down the stairs.

He reached the bailey as the man rode inside. Talbot instantly took in the dark stain on his sleeve, and caught him as he nearly fell from his saddle.

“Kinsley,” the rider rasped.

Baxter appeared at his side.

“Help me get him inside,” Talbot ordered.

Baxter slung one of the man’s arms over his shoulder and Talbot did the same with the other, then they brought him inside and lowered him into a chair at the table near the hearth.

“Bring ale,” he told a waiting lad, then said to the rider, “What happened?”

“Attacked,” he said between gulps of air. “At the gorge.”

Talbot looked at Baxter.

“Colliston Gorge is west of us on the way to Banmore Castle.”

The man grabbed Talbot’s shirt. “They fell upon us—”

The lad appeared with ale and Talbot pressed the lip of the mug to the man’s mouth.

He drank greedily, then pushed Talbot’s hand away. “Kinsley asks ye for help.”

“How many?” he demanded.

“Maybe fifty,” the man replied.

“Gather a hundred men,” Talbot told Baxter. “We ride within the hour.”

Led by Ross, Talbot rode hard with his men. Twenty minutes later, they reached the gorge and he knew the attackers were gone. Bodies lay broken and bloodied across the trampled ground. Seward had ridden with twenty men; a dozen lay dead on the road alone, but Seward was not among them. Maybe he had eluded his attackers and reached the safety of Banmore Castle.

Talbot ordered men to check the fallen warriors, then sent scouts to search the area. He hoped Seward’s attackers had gotten sloppy. Talbot took a dozen men and began searching for more wounded.

Minutes later, one of his men located Seward. He lay near two of his men, a sword wound through his ribs. Blood darkened the ground beneath him. Talbot dismounted and dropped to one knee beside him and was surprised to discover a faint pulse at his neck. Talbot removed Seward’s mail shirt and tunic, then tore the tunic into a long strip and began binding the wound.

Ross appeared on his horse. “We found one of the attackers still alive.”

“Is there any clue as to who he and his companions are?” Talbot demanded.

“He wears no crest or identifying marks.”

“Beat it out of him, then throw him over a horse and bring him to Castle Glenbarr. If you find any others, bring them as well. Have you any idea who they might be?”

“Your brother comes to mind.”

“I cannot think what he would gain by killing Seward.” But Talbot wondered if he knew his brother at all. “Take Cullen. He is our best tracker,” he said. “Track them, but do not make contact. I want to know who they are. Then I will deal with them myself.”

Ross nodded, whirled his horse around and was gone.

Talbot mounted his charger, then had Seward lifted onto his horse behind him and tied to him. The old man moaned, then fell silent. Talbot took thirty of his men and started for Castle Glenbarr. The slow pace he was forced to maintain in deference to Seward chaffed against his desire for speed. They reached the castle an hour later, and Baxter met them in the bailey.

“God’s blood,” Baxter muttered as he lifted Seward from the saddle.