"We'll talk about that when it happens."

Eliot leaned close, black eyes burning. "Know this. As his nearest kin, Gealach is mine. And Alex's precious little varlet can be buried wi' him."

Skelley straight-armed Eliot right out of his saddle. He dropped into the mud with a splash. Skelley flexed his hand, ready to lay into him again. He'd been itching to do that for years.

Laine looked between Skelley and Eliot, wide-eyed. Davie reined in a few feet away, blocking the frightened horse's escape and capturing the lead. His pale eyes were devoid of warmth or expression.

Skelley kicked his horse forward so it pranced around the fallen Eliot. "By G.o.d, man, I've heard enough! You can be sure Alex will get an earful when we return. We have no use for knaves in our ranks. And if you lay a finger on Hugh, I'll kill ye meself."

"He's a thief and a liar and has caused naught but trouble since we found him."

"You're a thief! And that lad is Red Alex's nephew. I'll not hear of harming him!"

Eliot snorted derisively, swiping the blood and rain from his mouth. "Nephew! Ye believe that drivel? Methinks Alex is turning monk again and favors b.u.g.g.e.ring the pretty lad's b.u.m."

There was a hiss of metal as Laine drew his sword again, eyes blazing. Even Davie rode forward threateningly, his mount stamping the ground too near Eliot's mud hole for comfort. Such slander could not go unanswered, or unpunished, but Alex would be furious if Skelley took matters into his own hands, as he would love to.

"You've gone too far," Skelley said, barely able to speak through his fury. "Get on your horse."

Eliot ran his arm across his mouth, smearing mud across his black beard. It was quickly washed clean by the rain. He held Skelley's eyes for a long moment before nodding and getting to his feet.

Skelley knew this was far from over. Eliot had been a problem for some time, yet Alex was loath to send him away. He'd been a favorite of Red Rowan's and had once been as close to Alex as his own brothers. Alex kept looking for the good in Eliot, giving him chances to redeem himself. But Skelley believed the only kind bones in Eliot's body had been buried with his arm.

Eliot tried to catch his horse, a skittish mount that didn't particularly care for its rider, when an arrow sliced through the air, knocking Skelley's helm from his head. Skelley ducked and shouted, "Go!"

Eliot snagged his horse and tried to mount-a difficult task for a one-armed man at the best of times, no easy task when the horse was temperamental. But Eliot would spurn all offers of help, Skelley knew, so he rode past him. Davie was already gone, but Laine had turned, firing his latch into the forest.

Men burst through the trees and Skelley delayed no longer. With a final shout at Laine to move, he spurred his horse forward after Davie.

Laine started after Skelley, looking over his shoulder. Several men surrounded Eliot, who had stopped trying to mount his horse and stood with his one arm held up in surrender. Laine loaded his latch and fired at one of the men. It caught him in the throat, sending him sprawling off his horse in a funnel of blood. Laine's heart was racing. He'd never killed a man before and was sickened, but a fellow rider's life was at stake. Though that life might not be worth saving-or risking his own for-he could not face Red Alex if he didn't try.

Laine drew another bolt to load in his latch, but two men were bearing down on him. He abandoned the latch and unsheathed his sword.

He yanked on his reins, turning his horse to meet the attackers when something caught him across the back. He slumped forward, over the horse's neck. He caught a glimpse of Eliot, facedown in the mud, water plopping all around him, before another blow knocked him from his horse.

When Skelley was certain they were no longer being followed, he stopped. Eliot had definitely been captured or killed. Skelley couldn't say he cared, but knew Alex would not be happy. He waited, heart pounding, for Laine to burst out of the trees behind them. The rain had let up, was now a blanket of mist. Water dripped from branches and leaves. Skelley thrust wet hair off his forehead.

"Come on, lad," he whispered. Skelley turned his head slightly at the sound of Davie's approach. He came up alongside Skelley, placed a hand on his shoulder, and shook his head. Skelley knew he was right. They must go on. Alex needed them.

Skelley looked over his shoulder one last time before following Davie into the trees. They had lost the extra horses, the litter, most of the supplies and two men, but at least Skelley still had Davie and his wee box-that was something.

And Davie seemed to know the way, which was a relief to Skelley, who feared he was well lost. Davie picked his way around the jagged rocks protruding from the ground, Skelley close behind. He stopped and dismounted. Skelley followed, surprised to see the entrance to a small cave, hidden among the brush and trees. Davie had already disappeared inside. Skelley hobbled the horses and turned only to give a bark of surprise when confronted with Bear. The ma.s.sive horse bobbed his head, nudging Skelley's shoulder, pushing him toward the cave.

"I'm going!"

The silence from the cave made Skelley uneasy. He ducked his head and entered. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Davie had lit several candles and situated them around the edge of the cave. He knelt in front of his pack, rummaging through it. Skelley walked over to the two lumps against the wall, his legs stiff with fear. Wolf lay beside them. She lifted her head and whined, then lay it down again. There was a pile of dead hares in the corner, covered with flies and stinking horribly.

They must be dead. Skelley had taken too long. He had ridden as hard as he could, but it had still taken nearly three days to get to Gealach and back. Too long.

Davie returned to the two bodies on the floor, urging Wolf aside. The dog went to the pile of hares and sniffed at it, disturbing the black cloud that clung to it. Davie rolled the largest lump-Alex-onto his back. Alex moaned and tried to roll away. Skelley let out a sigh of relief and hurried forward to lend a.s.sistance.

Davie unhooked the jack and Skelley helped him peel Alex out of it.

"Alex!" Skelley said loudly. He pressed a hand against his friend's face. It was hot and dry. "Alexander Maxwell!"

Alex opened his eyes. "Skelley..." His gaze moved to Davie, then he jerked and struggled to sit up. "Fayth... Fayth..."

Skelley glanced at Davie, but he didn't seem to think this ranting was odd. Of course, Davie seemed to find nothing odd... or amusing, or vexing. Skelley reckoned Alex was delirious and tried to hold him down. But Alex was unexpectedly powerful and threw him off. He pushed himself onto his elbow and leaned over the form beside him.

"Take care of her first, Davie." He sat up, his eyes surprisingly clear, and gestured to the other lump.

Skelley frowned and finally got a good look at what he'd thought was the body of Hugh, but it was clear this was no man. Her hair was free of the cap and spread about her in dull curls. Damp ringlets clung to the sides of her face. Her skin was flushed and damp. The doublet had been removed and her shirt was open, barely covering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Christ G.o.d," Skelley muttered. "He's a la.s.s."

"It's Fayth Graham," Alex said, never taking his eyes from her. "And she's dying."

Davie leaned over her and shook his head.

"What?" Alex grabbed his arm. "Is it too late? You can't help her?"

Davie rolled his eyes and shook his head again. Skelley wished the fool would speak, but they all knew he wouldn't. Often Alex had no problem understanding the man, but this was not one of those times.

"She's not going to die?" Alex asked.

Davie nodded.

Alex's shoulders slumped, his gaze still fastened on the woman. He leaned closer, then gently touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. Some of the worry cleared from his brow. "She's not so hot... and she's sweating." He looked at Davie anxiously. "That's good?"

Davie nodded, smiling slightly. He began unwinding the dressing from her arm. Skelley wanted to speak alone with Alex, to tell him about Eliot and Laine, but he was transfixed, watching Davie and the woman's arm. Skelley peered over Davie's shoulder to get a look at the wound. He'd only seen it when they found her and it had been sore nasty then. It was red and a bit swollen, but the st.i.tches were holding and the wound was scabbed over.

Davie placed a hand on Alex's shoulder and nodded encouragingly.

"I think he means ye did well," Skelley said, since Alex stared blankly at the leech. "That ye took good care of her."

Alex swallowed hard, nodding his head and sitting back on his heels. He looked around the cave, his gaze lighting on the pile of hares in the corner. Wolf brushed past Skelley's leg on her way out of the cave.

"Christ," Alex muttered. "She's going to get more." He called the dog back.

She returned, wiggling enthusiastically at the sudden attention. Alex rubbed the dog's ears, speaking softly to her. He straightened and approached Skelley. He favored his shoulder.

"Did you run into any trouble?"

Skelley nodded and gestured for Alex to follow him to the mouth of the cave. "There's Grahams in the wood. They attacked us and took... or killed Laine and Eliot." Skelley looked away, ashamed he'd lost men. "We cannot stay. Laine or Eliot might talk, if sufficiently induced."

Alex looked over his shoulder at Fayth. "She shouldn't be moved."

Skelley grabbed his arm. "She must."