“Rachel! What did you do to her? Is she alive?” The large, portly Trenton had dismounted from his horse and trundled toward where Adam knelt beside the girl, assessing whether there was any significant damage to her person. “This is all your fault, man. Is it not your job to keep watch on all of us, to ensure all in the group are looked after and kept from harm? Why would you allow my daughter to even come with us on this hunt?”
“Is she not your responsibility?” Adam angrily retorted, but gave the man no more thought as he turned back to the woman — Rachel, Trenton had called her — lying prostrate in front of him.
He had seen her eyes roll back in her head, and he considered it a blessing that her body had ensured she be without pain for some time, as he quickly moved to her leg to determine how badly she had been hurt. He had no thought of propriety as he lifted the hem of her dress and eased the stocking down off of her calf. It seemed the bullet was lodged inside the muscle, and she was bleeding fairly profusely. The biggest danger, he thought as he ripped a piece of fabric from his plaid and wound it round her leg to slow the bleeding, was that infection could set in from the bullet if they didn’t remove it in time. Even then, there was a risk.
“Take her to Galbury,” Kyla said urgently from behind him. “We’re much closer to the castle than to Darfield, and your mother is there. She’ll know what to do. Go quickly, and we will meet up with you in due time.”
He looked back at her with a nod and lifted the woman as gently as he could. He was briskly walking to his horse when her father, who had stood over him as he tended to the wound, stepped his bulky frame in front of him.
“Where do you think you are taking my daughter?” he asked, his brows drawn in a line.
“To help her,” responded Adam with gritted teeth. “Unless, sir, you happen to oppose that?”
“Nothing unseemly, you hear me?” the man said, though he didn’t deny Adam from taking action. “Rachel must be in untarnished condition for her marriage to a respectable gentleman like Thompson here. In fact, perhaps Thompson should be the one to convey her to the healer. Yes. I think that would be best. Thompson — Thompson?”
As if he had heard his name being called, the man broke through the trees, reining in his horse from the quick trot he was at, with a triumphant look on his face.
“I got it! By Jove, I hit the damn thing! Come see this stag, he’s a beauty. I’ve been tracking him all — whatever is the matter? Is something wrong with Rachel? Has she fainted?”
Nearly at his horse, Adam stood stiff straight. Had he not been carrying the girl, he likely would have hit the man across the jaw right there, in the midst of all of them.
“You,” he said through gritted teeth. “It was you, wasn’t it? You found something you liked, and instead of informing the group and allowing us to hunt it together, you went off on your own. That’s why she was shot — because of your own damn selfishness!”
“Now see here, I — she — Rachel was shot?”
“Aye,” responded Adam. “And I believe I now know how this happened. No matter. I shall deal with ye later but at present, we must have her returned to Galbury. Fin?”
Finlay nodded and came round the side of the horse next to Adam, taking Rachel in his arms as Adam mounted, then lifted her up to him. Adam shifted her body so that she was leaning against him and he could therefore keep her from sliding off the horse, one strong arm holding her tight against him while the other took both reins in his hands. “Home, Sloane,” he said to his horse, as they headed back to Galbury as fast as they could without too badly jostling Rachel off the seat.
It was a tortuous ride, and never had it seemed so long before. It was ages before he finally rode into the yard, where he was quickly greeted by one of the grooms, whose face turned grave when he saw the woman in front of him on Sloane. He helped both of them dismount, and Adam took her back from the man to carry her into the house, ignoring the strangely possessive feeling that settled over him when he saw her in another man’s arms.
When he pushed open the strong wooden doors of the front of the castle, he called out for his mother, and she soon appeared at the urgency in his voice.
“Adam, whatever is the matter? Are you not out hunt— Oh, dear!”
She came rushing down the stairs, meeting him at the door. “What has happened? Take her upstairs,” she said, taking control of the situation, as she always did when it came to moments of crisis.
As Adam hurried up the stairs with the woman, he could hear his mother calling to the cook, asking for help in gathering rags and materials she would need. He knew she would be in shortly with her bag of dried herbs and tools she’d used so often when they were children, tending to everything from a scrape on the knee to a broken bone from falling out of the tree in the yard.
Not thinking of where he was going, his feet took him to his own chamber, and he set the girl down on his wide bed. His mother came in and shooed him out of the way as she took a closer look. Adam stepped back and looked around the room, realizing how out of place she looked
