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When Cyrus found Elspeth lying unmoving within the overturned coach, icy fear froze his muscles. "Elspeth?" He dropped inside and knelt beside her, then grasped her slender shoulder through the thick blue cloak. "Elspeth?"
She squirmed and frowned, opening her eyes.
Thank the saints she was alive. "Are you hurt badly?"
"Um... nay." Her voice was too uncertain and breathy for his peace of mind.
"Let me see your head?" After helping her sit up, he pulled back the cowl.
"'Tis naught but a bump." She moved a hand toward her injury, but he stopped her.
"I'll check it." He slipped his fingers beneath her flame-red, unbound curls and detected a small lump on the left side of her head. He pulled his hand back to look at his fingertips. "I don't see any blood. Does that hurt?" He gently touched the knot again.
She drew away. "'Tis a bit sore."
"Why was your driver urging the horses at such a mad pace?" Cyrus demanded, annoyed with the man.
"I told him to hurry, but I didn't expect him to drive the horses so recklessly."
"You're lucky you weren't killed," he scolded. "Why are you in a rush?"
"Was Vance injured? Or Jenkins?"
Irked that she'd ignored his question, Cyrus stood. "We'll check on them. They were thrown clear. Can you stand?"
"Of course."
"Is she well?" Fraser called from outside.
"Aye." Cyrus was certain she would be. Taking her elbow, he helped her up. She swayed and grabbed onto his forearm, giving him another surge of alarm. "You're faint. You may be hurt worse than you realize."
"I'll be all right." Rubbing her forehead, she pressed her eyes closed for a long moment. When she opened them again, her amber gaze appeared unfocused at first, then sharpened upon his. He felt as if he'd been punched hard in the chest. What the devil was wrong with him? Was it fear for her life because she could've been killed so easily?
He frowned. "Better?"
"Aye."
When she glanced away, he found himself wishing she would look at him again. How daft was that?
"I'll help you out." Grasping her slim waist, he gently lifted her through the open doorway to sit on the side of the coach facing upward. She was so slight, she barely weighed anything. Strange feelings arose within him. What the devil were they? Protectiveness?
Why should he feel so protective of her? She wasn't a member of his family or clan.
When she drew her legs out and dangled them over the edge, Fraser helped her down. "Are you hurt, m'lady?"
"Nay, merely a few bruises. I'll be all right."
Cyrus hoisted himself up and leapt out onto the dark mud and grass which had been torn up by the wheels. Still concerned about her well-being, he eyed her closely to make sure she wouldn't swoon.
"Let's go see if the men are hurt." He tucked her hand around his elbow and led her toward her driver and guard.
The two stood beside Rebbie and Dermott.
"Were you injured, Lady Grey?" Rebbie asked.
"Just a bump on the head." She looked to her servants. "Were either of you injured?"
"I fear my arm is broken, m'lady." Grimacing, Jenkins cradled his left arm.
"Oh, good heavens." She rushed toward him. "Are you in great pain?"
"Aye, it hurts."
Frowning, she turned to her driver. "Vance, I didn't mean for you to drive so recklessly."
"'Twas nay that, m'lady." The graying man shook his head. "The horses refused to slow their pace. Something must've spooked 'em."
She glanced around. "What would've done that?"
Cyrus scrutinized the tree line a few hundred yards away. "We did see a lone wolf in the distance while out hunting. The horses might have scented it."
Elspeth's eyes widened. "I had no inkling wolves dwelt in this area."
"Without doubt 'tis gone now," he reassured her, disliking her fearful expression.
"We'll have the healer back at the castle set your guard's arm." Rebbie motioned to two of his men. "George, Hogarth, help Jenkins back to the castle, then find Mistress MacGowan and have her see to his broken bone."
"Aye, m'laird." They helped the grimacing Jenkins mount one of their horses.
Vance rounded the front of the overturned coach. "M'lady, one of the wheels is shattered and another is cracked. We must take the coach back to the castle and repair it. There could be other damage as well on the left side."
"Oh, good lord." Elspeth frowned and pressed her fingers to her temples.
"Why were you in such an all-fired hurry?" Cyrus studied her anxious expression.
"I must go home forthwith. There was a break-in and one of my guards was injured."
Cyrus's shoulders tightened with concern for her safety. "Why didn't you say so earlier? How far away do you live?"
Eyeing him with caution, she pressed her lips together.
Why was she being so stubborn and secretive? Unwilling to relent, Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. 'Twas a look that he knew frightened most men, but she didn't seem daunted in the least.
Finally, she yielded. "Close to Aberdeen."
Cyrus glanced around at the men, knowing he had only one option. "I'll take six guards with me and see that she gets home."
"You can borrow my larger coach and four if you wish," Rebbie offered. "'Tis two days by coach. One day if riding."
Elspeth hesitated.
"'Twill be much faster if we ride." Cyrus noted her uneasiness. "That is, if you can ride."
Though 'twas fleeting, panic flickered through her eyes. "Of course, I can."
Rebbie nodded. "We'll get your horses and coach back to the castle."
"I'll go with you, Cyrus." Fraser strode forward.
Cyrus eyed his younger brother but detected no scheming look in his eye... though he knew his brother wanted to seduce Elspeth. "Very well."
Fraser strode away with Rebbie.
Cyrus turned back to Elspeth, observing her worried expression. Being a leader of men during gruesome and bloody battles, he was well accustomed to fear, both his own and his soldiers'. However, the question of courage came into play when a person decided whether they were strong enough to forge ahead and conquer, despite the fear. 'Twas the first time he'd seen trepidation in her eyes.
"Do you fear horses?" he asked her.
"Nay," she blurted, her face still pale.
Cyrus cocked his head, observing her. "Are you certain?"
Her gaze darted to him once, then away. "Aye."
He didn't believe her, but he admired her brave front. He needed to see if she truly could ride before he took the drastic measure of putting her on Goliath behind him. Just imagining her arms wrapped around his waist and her hands on his stomach caused his body to quicken in a fiery and disturbing response.
Of course, she was a beautiful and desirable woman, but one he could never dally with if he wished to secure the most advantageous marriage possible.
***
HER STOMACH KNOTTING, Elspeth watched Cyrus stride purposefully away from her and pause to talk to a skinny kilted man who was about a foot shorter than he was. His clansman appeared none too pleased when Cyrus took the reins of his small gelding. If she had to ride that horse, she prayed he possessed a docile nature.
She did, in fact, fear horses, for one had tossed her into a ditch when she was learning to ride. Because she'd been born a merchant's daughter, she hadn't learned to ride as a child the way most ladies did. It wasn't until she'd married the baron that she'd been required to ride.
Fortunately, she had sustained no broken bones from the horse throwing her at sixteen summers, only a few bruises. So, 'twas not so horrible. But she was especially leery of large stallions like the one Cyrus rode.
Still, she didn't wish him to know of her illogical fear. She would show no weakness before the imperious earl.
In total, she had ridden a few dozen times, but not in recent years. Surely, she hadn't forgotten how. She could endure anything, even riding a horse for a few hours, if it meant she could get home quickly.
If she couldn't ride on her own, she well knew what would happen—Cyrus would make her ride with him. She did not want to be in such close proximity to the distracting and domineering man. She had barely slept last night after he'd invaded her room. Touching his hand or arm was all she could tolerate. Something about his magnetic presence affected her in profound ways. But, never again did she want to be at a nobleman's mercy.
She glanced down at her own clothing, realizing 'twas not a riding habit she wore. Likely, this gown, one of her favorites, would be ruined or torn by the time she arrived home. If so, mayhap she could have it repaired and cleaned. More importantly, she had to get home and resolve all the problems.
Cyrus strode toward her, leading the small gelding. Before she could say a word, he grasped her around the waist and briskly lifted her into the saddle. Unintentionally, she blurted a squeal of surprise. Saints, he was a force of nature, a tempestuous storm wind that lifted her into the air and deposited her where he wanted. She caught her breath and tried to calm her speeding heartrate.
Apparently, he was a trial by fire sort of man. Blast him!
The horse lowered his head, picking vibrant green grass from the roadside. She tensed. Goodness, she hated when horses kept their heads down, for it made her feel as if she would topple forward onto the ground.
Cyrus tugged at the reins, prompting the animal to lift his head, then placed the thin leather straps into her hands. "Are you well?"
"Indeed." She spoke with more confidence than she felt and looked into his midnight eyes. She would ride this horse or break her neck with the effort.
When she had started out this morn, she had certainly not expected a coach accident, and then participating in her least favorite activity. But, fortunately, she had an escort home. "I thank you for your willingness to help me," she added.
He bent his head, hinting at a bow, then hoisted himself into his own saddle upon the massive black horse. For a tall, brawny man, he moved in a quick, nimble manner, whether dancing or dealing with horses. 'Twas clear to her that he didn't simply command his men; he trained with them.
Would he grow lazy and slovenly now that he had his title in hand? She doubted it. He didn't seem the idle sort. In fact, he was constantly in motion. During the times when she had noticed him standing still, 'twas clear by the alert look in his eyes that his cunning mind was spinning like a speeding cart's wheel.
"Ready?" His inquiring gaze lighting on her, he headed his horse onto the muddy road.
She nodded and guided her borrowed horse after his, thankful that she remembered how to maneuver the horse using the reins and her legs.
Cyrus waited for her until she caught up. She had not wanted to ride beside him, for he unnerved her. At all times, his dark eyes were intense, and she could never tell what he was thinking. He was the most unreadable person she'd ever met. Prior to late last night, she had been more comfortable around Fraser, with his smiling blue eyes and easy-going nature.
But now her perceptions were changed somewhat. Cyrus had been the gentleman trying to protect her, while Fraser had requested entrance to her room in order to seduce her. Likely both men had indulged in too much drink, though this morn they appeared their normal hale and hearty selves.
Did Fraser even remember knocking at her door? If he did, he was pretending not to.
She glanced back, finding him and three guards trailing behind. The other three guards led the procession. Riding amongst so many men, she felt far safer than she had before, with her own driver and guard.
Even though she didn't know these Highlanders extremely well, from what she'd seen, they were trustworthy. And they were Rebbie's friends.
Once she was safely at home, she would ask Cyrus to send Bernice, Vance and Jenkins home in the coach, along with her trunks of clothing, as soon as the wheels were repaired. She need not see Cyrus again. Though when she considered that, she did not like the feeling of dullness that filled her.