Page 131 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

As he lumbered toward her, she lifted her skirts and pulled back a leg and, when he was close enough, she landed her knee soundly in his crotch. He collapsed with a high-pitched scream.

She threw the weapon to the ground and ran to Nick, hoping, praying that he was all right.

She fell to her knees at his side and took his face in her hand. He was pale, unmoving. The blot on his shirt had expanded.

Her heart lurched.

No. No. He couldn’t be dead.

What would she do? Who would she be without him?

She called his name, shook him, cried out to God, but there was no response. Not from either of them.

Despair filled her heart. A thunder filled her ears. She was—

No. Not thunder.

Hooves.

She looked up, through the tears, to see two carriages bearing down on them. She nearly collapsed in relief as she recognized her uncle’s crest on one of them.

Thank heaven.

Help had arrived.

Now if only Nick could survive.

* * *

Nick’s uncle Ewan was the first out, and he ran to her side.

“He’s been shot,” she wailed, though that was perfectly obvious.

Ewan grunted and felt at Nick’s neck. “Thank God, there’s a pulse.”

“We need to get him back to that last inn and call a doctor,” Nick’s father said and Isobel blinked, because in that moment, she was surrounded by all of them. Her father, her uncles, and all of Nick’s kin, including Declan and Robert.

And then her mother emerged from the carriage and ran to her side, pulling her into a hug. All of a sudden the floodgates opened and Isobel began to weep.

“Darling. Darling,” Mama murmured. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“Nick was shot,” she blubbered.

“But he’s breathing,” Ewan said stalwartly. “And he’s a Moncrieff.”

“I was shot once,” Papa said. “And I’m fine.”

Nick’s father nodded. “I was shot once, too. About in the same place. And look at me.”

“I, too, have been shot,” Uncle Lachlan said, patting her on the shoulder.

“I was shot more than once and I survived,” Ewan said. He put out his chest as though this was something to brag about. And maybe it was, because both Declan and Robert remained silent and looked a trifle put out.

“We need to move Nick into one of the coaches,” Papa said, and he, the dukes, and Isobel’s father lifted him gently.

“Put a board across the seats,” Mama commanded. After all, she’d done this before. It made Isobel feel so much better that she was here. “And doona jostle him.”

“We’re no’ jostling him,” Papa said.