Page 257 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Rhoslyn turned and her heart leapt into her throat at sight of her grandfather, one arm over the shoulder of a warrior, stepping up from the stairs. She raced forward and reached his side an instant later, Ross beside her.

“Grandfather.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You are awake.” Anger shot through her. “What are ye doing out of bed?” She turned a hard stare on the man helping him. “Have ye lost your mind? He is half dead. Take him back to my bed.”

“Hush, Granddaughter,” her grandfather said in a hoarse voice.

“Grandfather—”

“Hush, or I will have someone take ye to your room.” He looked at Ross. “Jason Boyd?”

Ross nodded.

“Help me,” her grandfather said.

Ross took the place of the other man and Rhoslyn draped her grandfather’s free arm over her shoulder. They helped him to the edge where he could look out over the field. He studied the scene for a long moment.

He nodded to the north and the men St. Claire led. “That is Baliman’s flag.”

“Aye,” Ross said. “St. Claire has sought aid from Lady Baliman.”

Her grandfather looked at him. “Lady Taresa Baliman?”

Ross nodded, and her grandfather looked at her. “Your doing?”

“Nay. I dinna’ know how she discovered the truth—I am not certain myself what the truth is.”

He looked at Ross.

“St. Claire is her grandson,” he said.

So she’d been right. Sweet God, St. Claire was the Earl of Baliman. What did this mean? Might he be more closely tied with Scotland than England as a result of inheriting the title? He could virtually do almost anything he pleased, short of claiming the throne. Why hadn’t he told her?

She narrowed her eyes on Ross. “Ye didna’ tell me this when I asked where St. Claire was getting warriors.”

“Your husband instructed me to keep quiet.”

“Apparently the order does no’ apply to my grandfather.”

“Nay, it does no’,” Ross replied without hesitation.

Her grandfather croaked a laugh. “This will give Lochland fits.” Before Rhoslyn could respond, he said to Ross, “Prepare a horse, I will speak with Boyd.”

“Nay,” Rhoslyn cried. “Ye are barely able to walk. You can no’—”

“By God, Rhoslyn, another word and I will have you locked in your room until this is over.”

This time, there was no hoarseness or tremor in his voice, and Rhoslyn stood aside.

* * *

Talbot spotted his scout in the distance and slowed at sight of another rider with him. The men neared and he recognized Ross. Fear swept through him and he spurred his horse forward. The animal lunged, then broke into a hard gallop.

When Talbot reached his side, he pulled up alongside the two men and Ross forestalled any questions by saying, “All is well. Better than ye might think possible, in fact.”

“Lady Rhoslyn?” Talbot demanded.

“She is well, as is her grandfather. He awoke at the best possible moment and intervened.”

“Intervened?” Talbot repeated. “You mean Boyd’s men have gone?”