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It did not constitute much of a plan, but it was more than Leif had offered, and at this point, all he cared about was removing Rhiannon from Cadwgan’s clutches.

“Get up.” At Cadwgan’s brusque whisper, Knud melded into the darkness. Leif held completely still. He could no longer see Rhiannon’s face, but her breathing was labored.

“I . . . I cannot. I have not the strength.”

“You will mount this horse.” Anger hardened Cadwgan’s voice, and Leif clenched his fists, barely suppressing the desire to plant one on the nobleman’s jaw. He was three steps too far distant. Until he knew exactly where Cadwgan’s knife was located, he could not risk him injuring Rhiannon because he sensed Leif’s incoming blow.

The stallion snorted and shook his head. The straps rattled, and then there was a loud slap. The horse screamed, and suddenly, his white front hooves were punching through the air. Rhiannon cried out, breaking free of Cadwgan’s grasp as the nobleman cursed and stumbled backward. The stallion’s hooves hovered above them, and Leif dove for Rhiannon, wrapping his arms around her as he knocked her to the ground and rolled clear of the frantic stallion.

There was another slap, and the horse reared a second time, snorting and pawing the air as he danced on his hind legs.

Cocooning Rhiannon within his embrace, Leif rolled again. His leg hit the wall. Swiveling another half turn, he pressed Rhiannon’s head to his chest and turned his back on the mayhem occurring behind them.

The stallion’s hooves dropped with a sickening thump. Cadwgan’s shriek filled the stable, and then it was gone, and all that remained was the shifting and snorting of a stable full of nervous horses and Dai’s soothing voice calming the stallion out of its frenzy.

In Leif’s arms, Rhiannon was shaking. Footsteps approached. Leif looked up to see Knud standing over them, a candle in hand. His friend’s grim nod told Leif everything he needed to know.

“You will need to translate when Cadell’s men arrive,” Knud said, setting the candle down beside Leif. “Dai has his hands full with the horses and with the stableboys who appeared from the upstairs room after I struck the stallion.”

For the first time, Leif became aware of young voices coming from the stalls and the distant shout of men somewhere outside the stable. “Hywel has sent the guards.”

Knud glanced at the stable doors. “Stay with Rhiannon. I can point the men to Cadwgan.”

Leif waited until Knud’s footsteps faded before running his hand down Rhiannon’s silky hair. “It is over, Rhiannon,” he said, reverting to Gaelic. “You are safe.”

Slowly, she raised her head. Her eyes, full of tears, met his. “Cadwgan is gone?”

“He will never hurt you again.”

She raised a trembling hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, and for the first time, Leif saw the blood. It covered her neck and had turned the front of her yellow gown red.

“You are injured!” Horror at what Cadwgan had done surged through him, leaving his voice hoarse.

“I fell on the stairs. His . . . his knife was at my throat.” The tears in her eyes spilled over.

Understanding came with painful clarity. Rhiannon’s unsteady gait and weak voice. Her lack of strength. It was a miracle she had remained standing to the end of her ordeal.

Drawing his arm out from under her, Leif eased her gently onto the floor and scrambled to his feet. A stinging pain accompanied the movement of his left leg. He ignored it. “Come,” he said, bending over to scoop her into his arms. “You are in no fit state to walk, and you must see a healer straightway.”

“No, Leif.” She set a restraining hand on his arm. “It is not fitting that the son of Jarl Ottar should be required to carry anyone.”

“On the contrary,” Leif said, undeterred. “If the lady is willing, the son of Jarl Ottar may carry whomever he chooses.” He raised an eyebrow, purposefully omitting that he would not willingly relinquish her transport to anyone else. “May I convey you to your chambers, Rhiannon?”

A spasm of pain tightened her face, and she placed a hand at her throat. “I would be most grateful.”

Urgency gave his arms fresh strength. Lifting her gently, Leif settled her against his chest and started toward the stable doors.

“Dai!” he called.

The old groom appeared instantly and hobbled toward him on stiff legs. “Miss Rhiannon,” he said with concern. “Is she well?”

“She needs a healer,” Leif said.

In the candlelight, Dai’s face appeared almost as pale as Rhiannon’s. “Take her to Heledd,” he said. “She will know what to do.”

“Yes,” Rhiannon murmured. “Heledd.”

Leif turned to go, and the stable doors flew open, admitting Hywel and a host of armed guards. The men spread out, swords in hand. A muted gasp came from a stableboy in the nearest stall. Disregarding all but Hywel, Leif approached the edling with Rhiannon in his arms.