Page 24 of Under the Laird’s Promise

"Bastard."

"Clever bastard." Darkness edged his vision. "If he kills me, the betrothal ends. Maighread's vulnerable again. He can swoop in, play the concerned suitor…." His chest tightened with more than just pain. "I cannae let that happen. Cannae leave her unprotected."

"Then stay conscious," Greg gripped his arm harder. "We're almost there."

The castle gates appeared through the trees. MacEwan Castle, not MacBain. Tavish's muddled mind tried to make sense of that. They'd turned back. Course they had. No way he'd make it home.

Home. When had he started thinking of this place as something close to that?

Because she was there, his traitorous thoughts supplied. Because Maighread is behind those walls and the thought of never seeing her again made something in his chest crack open.

"Guard ho!" one of his men shouted. "We need help! MacBain's wounded!"

The gates swung open. Faces appeared, shocked and alarmed. Voices overlapped, calling orders.

"Get the healer!"

"Clear the courtyard!"

"Someone fetch Lady Maighread!"

Tavish tried to dismount. His legs buckled. The world tilted sideways and he would've hit the cobblestones face-first if Greg and another man hadn't caught him.

"Easy. We've got ye."

"I can walk." The lie was pathetic even to his own ears.

"Ye really can't." Greg's face swam above him. "Just hold still. Help's coming."

Tavish's vision blurred. The courtyard spun. Voices became distant, muffled, like he was underwater. He was going to pass out. Going to collapse right there, like some weak-kneed fool who couldn't handle a simple sword wound.

Then she was there.

Pushing through the crowd, her grey eyes huge and frightened. Her face pale as snow. She looked terrified, and something about that—about Maighread MacEwan being scared for him—made Tavish's chest tighten in ways that had nothing to do with his injury.

She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering over his blood-soaked shirt. "Tavish." Her voice cracked on his name. "What happened? Where's he hurt?"

He wanted to tell her he was fine. Wanted to stand up and prove he wasn't as broken as he looked. Wanted to wipe that fear from her face.

"Ambush. Sword cut tae the ribs." Greg stepped back, letting her kneel beside him. "Deep but probably not fatal. He needs stitching and rest."

Her hands hovered over him, uncertain. Then her jaw set, determination replacing fear.

"Get him tae the healer's rooms. Now. Carefully."

Strong arms lifted him. The world spun sickeningly. He gritted his teeth against a groan.

"I've got ye." Maighread's face appeared beside his. "Stay conscious. Please. Just stay with me."

"Nae going anywhere, lass." The words slurred. "Too stubborn tae die."

"Ye'd better be."

They carried him through corridors, up stairs that made his vision blackout at the edges. Finally, into a chamber that smelled of herbs and something sharper. Medicinal.

A grey-haired woman was already there, laying out supplies on a clean cloth with practiced efficiency. She took one look at Tavish and pointed to the pallet.

"Put him there. Gently."