Brodick was trying to wedge his hand beneath Gillian's thigh so that he could get a proper grip on the arrow, but when he saw her flinch, he pulled his hand back.
'Proster tried to get the arrow out, but he couldn't,' she told him.
The soldier began to move away from the commander, but Dylan grabbed him by the neck again.
Exasperated, Gillian called out, 'Dylan, please let go of him.'
Brodick took Gillian's dagger, lifted her plaid, and then slit her underskirts all the way up to the top of her thigh. The soldiers crowded around their laird to watch what he was doing and Gillian, trying to maintain some semblance of modesty and decorum, hastily tugged the plaid down over her leg.
'This isn't the time for shyness,' Brodick told her.
She knew he was upset. 'It isn't as bad as it looks.'
'Could have fooled me,' he countered.
'She might wish to sleep through this, Laird,' Robert suggested.
'You're going to wait until she falls asleep?' Bridgid asked. She'd pushed her way through the men so that she could take hold of Gillian's hand.
Gillian was more astute than her friend. She was also outraged by Robert's suggestion. 'No one's going to knock me out. Have I made myself clear?'
'But milady,' Robert began.
She stopped him cold. 'I cannot believe you would suggest such a thing.'
'A light tap is all it would take,' Aaron argued. 'You wouldn't feel a thing.'
'We don't like seeing you in pain, milady,' Liam rasped.
'Then close your eyes,' she snapped.
Brodick finally noticed Bridgid squeezed up against him. She had tears in her eyes as she stared at Gillian. He told her to move back so that he could, do what was needed, but Bridgid didn't budge, and Aaron had to lift her out of the way.
'What are you going to do?' Robert asked from behind.
In answer, Brodick pulled his sword free. 'Dylan, hold the arrow steady. Liam, grab the reins.'
Dylan moved forward, grabbed the arrow with both hands and pressed down against Gillian's thigh to keep it from moving.
Aaron pulled Bridgid out of the way, while Robert hurried to the other side of the horse and told Gillian to lean toward him.
'Are you still thinking about punching me, Robert?' she asked suspiciously.
'Nay, milady, I would never strike you without gaining permission.'
She decided to trust him and put her hands on his shoulders as she slowly leaned down toward him.
'Brodick?'
'Yes?'
'Don't miss.'
And then she closed her eyes and waited. She heard the whistle of the sword as it sliced through the air, felt only a slight jarring as the blade cut the arrow, and then it was over. When she opened her eyes again she saw that the arrow had been cleanly cut in half just a thumb's width above Dylan's hands.
She knew what was going to happen next, and, Lord, how she dreaded it. Brodick was slipping his arms under her knees. 'Put your hands on my shoulders,' he ordered.
'Wait.'
'What is it?'
'I don't want to go back to Annie Drummond's cottage. Do you hear me? I don't want to go back there ever again.'
He tightened his grip. 'I thought you liked Annie's house.'
Bridgid was wringing her hands in agitation. She could barely stand to watch her friend in such pain. 'You'll feel better if you scream,' she blurted. 'I would.'
Brodick looked into his wife's eyes, saw the tears, and said, 'She will not make a sound.'
He got just the reaction he wanted. Instantly furious, she shouted, 'I'm supposed to say that, not you. If you tell me to be brave, then when I am, it doesn't count. I…'
She didn't make a sound, except her deep indrawn breath when Brodick lifted her and the arrow slid through her leg. She threw her arms around him and held tight, and when the tears fell, she buried her face in the crook of his neck.
He wasn't sure which one of them was shaking more. Without a word, he turned and carried her to the creek. Bridgid tried to follow them, thinking she could help bind the injury, but Dylan grabbed her and told her to wait until they returned.
'It's over with,' Brodick whispered, and his voice was hoarse with relief. He held her tight against him and couldn't seem to make himself let go. It was going to take some time for him to get over the scare of losing her. He kissed her forehead and then begged her to stop crying.
She wiped her face with his plaid. 'You're dying to yell at me, aren't you?'
'Damn right I am,' he admitted. 'But I'm a thoughtful man, and so I'll wait until you have recovered.'
She didn't believe a word of it. 'That is thoughtful of you,' she agreed.
'What in God's name were you thinking, to leave without… my God, Gillian, you could have been killed.'
He had only just gotten warmed up, and he continued to rant at her all the while he splashed cold water over her leg to wash off any dirt or dried blood. He stopped long enough to grudgingly admit the wound wasn't nearly as awful as he'd first thought, but he went right back to shouting at her while he tore strips from her skirt and wrapped them around her thigh to stop the bleeding. By the time he was finished, her thigh didn't hurt much at all, but her pride had taken quite a blistering.
He wouldn't let her walk, and she wouldn't let him carry her anywhere until he had finished giving her a piece of his mind. She wasn't about to let him scold her in front of the men.
Scooping her up into his arms, his tirade continued. 'When we get home, I swear I'm putting two guards in front of you and two behind you. You're never going to get another chance to scare me like this again.'
She put her hand against his cheek, a simple caress that magically calmed him. Then she ruined it by trying to explain her actions, inadvertently getting him riled up again.
'I didn't deliberately leave the holding in hopes of getting attacked.'
'But you did leave the holding, didn't you? And without a proper guard to protect you. How could you leave Sinclair land without-'
'I didn't know I was leaving Ramsey's territory.'
He closed his eyes and told himself for the hundredth time that she was all right. The thought of losing her scared the hell out of him and infuriated him at the same time. How had he allowed himself to become so vulnerable?
'Shouting at me isn't going to accomplish anything.'
'Sure it is,' he snapped. 'It's making me feel a hell of a lot better.'
She didn't dare smile, guessing he would take grave offense if she did. She wanted to soothe him now, not incite his wrath further.
'Will you please be reasonable?'
'I am being reasonable. Haven't you figured it out yet? It took me a while, but by God, I finally have.'
'Figured out what?'
'Trouble follows you like a shadow, Gillian. You're prone to injuries. I swear to God, if a tree decided to fall right now, it would find your head to land on.'
'Oh, for heaven's sake,' she muttered. 'I'll admit that I have had a run of bad fortune, but-'
He wouldn't let her continue. 'A run of bad fortune? Since I've known you, you've been beaten, stabbed, and now shot with an arrow. If this keeps up, you'll be dead in another month, and if that happens, I'm going to be damned angry.'
'I was beaten, yes, but that was before I met you,' she said, believing she was being quite logical. 'And Alec didn't stab me. He cut my arm, but only because he was so frightened. It was just bad luck that it didn't heal. As for the arrow,' she continued, 'it only pinched my skin. You saw the cut; it wasn't bad.'
'It could have pierced your heart.'
