“Ye can barely stand.” He kicked open the parapet door with his foot and descended the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he saw Rosalia carrying Lachlann and walking toward them with long, purposeful strides.
“Alexander, what is happening? What is wrong with Sybella?”
He spoke as he carried Sybella through the hall to her chamber. “The archer took another shot. John and my men seek him out.”
“Aye, Ciaran took off with a purpose with his men as well. Let me get the door.” Rosalia repositioned Lachlann on her hip and opened Sybella’s bedchamber door.
As Alex gently lowered his wife to the bed, she let out a grunt and grabbed her ribs. “God’s teeth, MacDonell. Ye pack a strong wallop.”
“What happened?” asked Rosalia.
“We stood upon the parapet and an arrow shot through the air toward Sybella. In trying to protect her, I pushed her into the wall.”
Sybella rubbed her head. “More like rammed.”
Rosalia sat down on the edge of the bed with Lachlann. “Are ye all right? Alexander is a big man. That had to hurt.”
“It wasnae verra pleasant, but the man saved my li—”
“MacDonell!”
Alex hastily swung the door open to find MacGregor. Sweat beaded on the man’s brow and his breathing was labored.
“We found the man.”
Sybella’s head throbbed and her body ached, but nothing would keep her from seeing the man who had tried to take aim at her head. After Alex departed with Ciaran, Sybella told Rosalia that she wanted to rest. Her words weren’t totally untrue. She did want to rest, but there was no way she was going to miss what was happening in the bailey.
She made her way down the steps, and as soon as she stepped out the door, she found an unoccupied wall and stood quietly. She couldn’t see a damn thing. A mountain of men encircled something, but she wasn’t able to make anything out.
Sybella walked slowly along the edge of the wall, trying to get a better view. Was it just her opinion, or were all Highland men extremely large? She stood on the tips of her toes, but broad shoulders blocked her ability to see the archer who had tried to kill her—twice.
Ciaran moved, and she saw Alexander raising his arm and striking the man who knelt before him. Sybella bent over and watched through the legs of the Highlanders as the man fell to the ground. She had to restrain herself from walking over and pushing the men aside to see the miscreant who had tried to harm her.
Someone pulled the man to his feet, but she still couldn’t see his face. Ciaran asked the archer a question, and when the man didn’t answer, she watched in awe as her husband punched the arse forcefully in the gut. The man bent over briefly, but Alex’s guard promptly pulled him upright. The archer could barely stand, with his legs bent and about to collapse. She gathered that the only reason the bastard remained standing was because two men held him up by his arms.
“Ye will answer me!” bellowed Alexander.
The archer must have spit in Alex’s face because the men gasped as Alex wiped his face with his arm. Ciaran balled his fist into the man’s face, and Sybella cringed as she heard something crunch beneath the forceful blow. No doubt the MacGregor had broken the man’s nose or face. Frankly, she wasn’t sure which. Perhaps both.
“Who sent ye?” asked Alex in a raised voice.
Perhaps she could get a better look from the other side. She tried to circle along the wall unnoticed. The way Alex and Ciaran’s men surrounded the man, she didn’t think anyone would pay much attention to a lady—well, at least she hoped not. She could just make out the top of the man’s head while she approached the other side of the bailey.
One of the guards shifted, and she managed to get a view of a black, yellow, and red tartan, the clan colors of the MacLeod of Lewis. Praise the saints. Rosalia was right. Sybella was nothing more than a pawn in the game of men. She knew her father had disputes with the MacLeod of Lewis, and now the MacLeod was coming after her for her father’s ways.
“Throw his arse in the dungeon,” Alex ordered his men. “We will find a way to make him talk.
When John grabbed the man’s arm, Sybella was finally able to get a clear view of the man who had attempted to kill her.
As she took a step forward, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
Alex rubbed his knuckles, which stung and bled. In truth, the blood was of little consequence; of far more importance was whatever he would be able to gain from this savage MacLeod. Alex was sure there was valuable information to be had, if only the man would talk. The archer had made a grave error in judgment by keeping his mouth shut. John could be very persuasive, for Donald had taught him well.
“Let him rot in the dungeon. He will eventually speak the truth. And if he doesnae, there are ways in which he can be persuaded,” said MacGregor. He looked over Alex’s shoulder and his eyes narrowed. “Wash the blood from your hands. Your wife watches ye.”
Alex turned to see that Sybella’s face was paler than normal. Damn. He didn’t mean for her to see him beating the man. However, she should understand that he would do anything to keep her safe. He wiped his hands on a rag and then walked toward her. She remained perfectly still.
“Ye were supposed to be abed.”
Sybella paused. “Aye, but I wanted to see the man who tried to kill me.”
“He is a MacLeod, but he will nae speak. ’Tis only a matter of time before he does. Once he confirms his orders, I will deal with the MacLeod.”
“Ye are keeping the man in the dungeon, but ye donna keep him guarded below?” she asked as John and his men returned to the bailey.
“He cannae escape. When my father built the Rock of the Raven, he made certain there was nay means of escape for any prisoner. Ye are safe, Ella.”
“I am relieved to hear it.”
Alex noticed the tremor in her voice. “Come inside. Ye have had enough excitement for one day.” He placed his arm around her shoulder and guided her into the great hall.
MacGregor was already there, speaking with Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail. Upon Alex and Sybella’s approach, Rosalia walked over to Sybella and embraced her. “Ye must be so relieved that the man was caught. At least ye nay longer have to fear,” said Rosalia, giving Sybella a compassionate smile.
“Aye. And I must thank ye, Laird MacGregor, for all ye have done to assist my husband.”
MacGregor nodded. “Ciaran. And there is nay need for thanks. Your husband did the same for Rosalia.” MacGregor wrapped his arm around his wife and kissed her on the cheek.
“That’s what kin are for,” said Rosalia.
Sybella smiled, but she looked tired, worn. “If ye will pray excuse me, I think I need to rest.”
“I will walk ye to your chamber,” Alex said.
“Nay, I will be fine. Truly.”
“All right, but I will be in to check on ye later, Ella.”
Alex watched Sybella take her leave and knew from her wobbly stance that her body was still sore from where he had thrown her into the wall. At least she was not permanently injured and no longer had to fear for her life. She would be well enough in a few days.
“Alexander, ye caught the man responsible for trying to harm your wife. Your father would be proud. I am somewhat surprised it was the MacLeod’s doing. We’ve always had trouble with the MacKenzies, and now it seems that we have a new enemy among us,” said Aunt Iseabail.
