As soon as it settled, Leith gave his thanks to the sentry and was on the bridge. The clatter of his horse’s hooves on the almost-seamless, wooden-plank bridge was noisy but he did not care. He had reached a haven for the lass.
The large empty courtyard was made of crushed stone with a round of shrubbery plants in the middle. Soon three men and two women crossed the courtyard. Leith spotted Tarrant immediately, even as the man had grown a thick beard. The Laird directed the women, all with their heads covered in blue caps, to take the injured lass from him, and he gently handed her over into their hands before alighting from the horse.
Before acknowledging Tarrant, Leith reluctantly released his precious burden into their care. Would she recover soon?
“Dinnae ye worry, Young Lenichton,” a voice as gravelly as the ground he stood on interrupted his thoughts, “she is in good hands.”
Sighing, he nodded and turned to the man he had come to meet. “Tarrant Allanach, Laird of Robasdan, as I live and breathe. How are ye, friend? And when did that forest on yer chin come about?”
The older Scotsman snorted and reached out with an offered hand that Leith took. “Since the birth of me two sons, Lenichton. That’s why. I’m so busy that I barely have time to wash me arse much less tend to me face.”
Laughing out loud at his friend’s frankness, Leith pumped Tarrant’s hand. “And how is lovely Lady Robasdan doing?”
“As tired as I am, but she pulls through whenever she needs to,” Tarrant said as he led Leith into the belly of the beastly stronghold. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seein’ yer face for so long?”
The reason he had come this far to see the man descended on him like a load of bricks. “May we speak privately, Tarrant? It’s a…sensitive matter.”
A dark-green eye, hooded under a thick bushy brow, swiveled to him with deep curiosity at the utterance of his forename. “Sensitive, eh? As far I ken ye, nothin’ about ye tends to be sensitive.”
“I would like to tell ye it’s fairly new but it isnae,” Leith grimaced as he was taken to a room that was atypical to the man’s stern, austere nature. He smiled when he spotted blue curtains over previously bare windows and fur throws over the leather and wooden chairs.
There was even an English-styled chaise in there that Leith knew Tarrant would rather cut his left arm off than lie on. He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but the Laird’s narrowed eyes cut him off to the quick. Leith’s mouth closed so quickly his teeth clicked.
“Sit,” Tarrant waved him over to a chair, “and tell me what is the matter.”
Seated, Leith hunched over and clasped his hands before him. His face sobered as he tiredly explained his father’s dismal condition.
“I’ve gone through nearly the whole kingdom and havenae found anyone to help. Yer me last hope, Robasdan.”
Leith knew he had shocked the man, but Tarrant held it in admirably. The Laird’s lips went flat. “We have healers, Young Lenichton, many, but I dinnae ken one who caters to the mind. Have ye ken of seeking a druid?”
“Nay,” Leith shook his head. “Me Mother wouldnae let a druid under her roof, and even if I did, where would I find one. The church had them all persecuted and killed off.”
Tarrant scratched his beard in thought, “I will search for one. I am sure I’ll find one somewhere. I give ye me word.”
Raking a hand through his hair, Leith sighed. “I would hate to see me Faither’s gray head go to his grave with this illness. I want him back, me friend, sober and spouting his wisdom.”
“Are ye hesitant of taking up the lairdship?” Tarrant asked shrewdly. “It is going to be yer place one day, innit?”
“It is,” Leith said, “I just don’t want it to be for this reason. I want me Faither to hold me first-born in his arms and bestow his blessing. To tell him his story, how he rose to become the warrior he was. The battles he won and the victories that came with them.”
“Him?” Tarrant said teasingly. “How are ye sure yer going to have a son, and moreover, which woman would that be to bear him? As far as I ken, ye were still looking.”
“I am,” Leith said. “ ‘Tis just hard to find a lass who isnae in it to get the riches from the lairdship and—”
There was a knock on the door, and as Leith paused in speaking, Tarrant called out. “Enter.”
A woman, dressed as one of the healers from before, pushed the heavy door and took a few steps in. She dipped her head in curtsy. “Good day, and Young Lenichton, the lady ye brought to us is waking up.”
Leith was out of his seat like a shot.
5
Pain, that was all Mary could feel.
As she slowly came around, Mary felt as though a thousand horses were trampling through her head. Pain was lancing through her head in agonizing stabs, but something cool was on her forehead and her head was resting on something soft. Mary did not remember being in such comfort while suffering so much pain. Her memory was blurry, but she knew something was amiss. This was not where she had been before.
As her mind cleared, the pieces of the last few conscious hours started to link together. She remembered fright, pain, terror and a perilous fall. She remembered her heart pounding in fear as her horse bolted after a loud, terrifying thunderclap and then screaming as her horse pitched over a dark ravine and her head connecting hard
