Adam nearly forgot about the girl as he led the party into the woodlands. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he was rooting for the men to find their game, or for the animals of the woods to avoid these English. The tourists usually liked to take home their prime catches and mount them on their walls, which was such a waste. At least they would usually leave parts of the bodies behind, allowing them to be used in meats and stews and the like.

Fortune turned out to be kind to the Englishmen, and sent plenty of game toward them; however the skill of these men left a lot to be desired. When they continually missed, they became surly and seemed to blame their misfortune on their Highland guides. It came to a point when Adam had to shoot a stag down from a place beyond the trees just to quiet the men, allowing them to think one of them had been lucky enough to hit their mark.

He caught sight of the woman a few times, always tight to the back of the pack, as she had promised from the start of the day. Her dress actually did stand out among the trees, and he was pleased that she had left that awful bonnet behind today. When he had spoken with her, he had tried not to notice that the sun had brought forth freckles to sprout over her nose, and made the sleek auburn of her hair shine red. He convinced himself that he also had not noticed the deep blue of her eyes, nor the slight curves that today’s dress showcased, which he had not seen yesterday on her small frame. It seemed she was not the child he had originally thought her to be.

He frowned as he realized he had lost his concentration, and looked at the group around him. As he did every so often, he counted the party once more, growing somewhat anxious when he realized he counted fifteen, when there should have been sixteen of them, including the Highland guides as well as the tourists. He counted again and cursed when he realized he was once again short.

“Finlay!” he called out to his brother. “We’re missing someone.”

His brother turned to him, a look of concern on his face. “How can that be? We haven’t moved location for quite some time.”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ve counted a few times, however, and ’tis the same.”

His brother frowned, calling Rory over. Rory knew the men better than them, as their host at Darfield Keep.

“Do you notice anyone missing?” he asked, and Rory’s gaze roamed over the group.

“Thompson,” he said finally.

“Thompson?”

“The tall fair-haired one who enjoys voicing his opinion,” Rory said wryly.

Ah. The girl’s fiancé. Or not her fiancé. Not that it mattered. “Where could he have gone off to?”

“Hopefully just to relieve himself,” he said. “We’ll have the rest of them halt shooting until we can locate him.”

Adam nodded and went round to help inform them. The girl nodded to him as she waited demurely on her horse near the edge of the clearing in the forest.

Suddenly she jumped, just as Adam heard a shot ring out. “What in the name of…” A shot came again, and seconds following it, time seemed to slow as Rebecca screamed and slowly slid from her horse.

* * *

Rebecca had never felt pain like this before. She lay on the ground curled around her calf, which felt like it was on fire. She saw red liquid seeping out on the grass and crushed leaves around her and realized belatedly it was her own blood flowing from her injured leg. Her mind, hazy now, finally connected the sounds she had heard moments before with the injury, and she realized with a shock she had been shot.

How could that be? She had been with the group the entire time, had been so careful not to raise the ire of the man who hadn’t wanted her to come…. She groaned. He had said she would hold them back. He had said she would be injured. He had said she wasn’t fit for this hunt. Now he had been proven right.

As the pain began to be replaced by a numbness that slowly spread through her body, the last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered closed was his face. The strong, steady face. She tried to lift her hand to reach out to touch it, to tell him that he had been right and she was sorry she had spoiled the day for everyone, but before she could say a word, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell unconscious.

* * *

“Rebecca! 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 girl — Rebecca, 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 risk, 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 that 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. “Rebecca must be in untarnished condition for her marriage to a respectable gentleman like Vincent here. In fact, perhaps Vincent should be the one to convey her to the healer. Yes. I think that would be best. Vincent — Vincent?”

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 Rebecca? 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 cross 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 — Rebecca 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 Rebecca 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 the girl off her seat.

It was a tortuous ride, and never had it seemed so long before. It seemed 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 girl 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 girl, 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 in his dark, masculine room. The heavy, navy blue drapes were still drawn, and his mother directed him to open them to allow the sunshine in so she could better see to her work. He pushed them back, feeling secure in the knowledge that his mother would know what to do. He stood near the door, waiting for any direction from her, to fetch anything she required or offer another set of hands if needed.

She had the cook steam her needles, a practice she said would keep infection from settling in. After taking a good look at the wound, she called to him, having him hold the girl’s slight leg steady while she took her tools in to fetch the bullet out. He looked down at the slender calf, so small in his long fingers, and realized how delicate she was. His gaze moved to her face, her long lashes lying on her soft cheeks, her brow furrowed, tense even in the forced sleep.

“I’ve got it,” Jane said, her long needle deep within the leg, blood coming with it as she pulled it out. “Here you are, Adam. Now, hand me my bag, will you? I must clean this out rather well.”

He nodded and helped her as she washed the wound and packed a paste of herbs overtop it. When they had finished, he draped a spare plaid overtop of Rebecca. He sat down in the chair beside the bed to keep watch, but his mother had other ideas. “You wouldn’t want to be accused of anything improper, son,” she said, giving him a bit of a look as if she questioned his thoughts regarding the girl. “Out with you, now. You know her family will be here soon enough, and you will have to keep them at bay. They may visit, but she shouldn’t move for a few days until she gains some strength back. Not to worry, she’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, though what he was thanking her for — her work, her words, or her understanding — he didn’t know. He turned and started down the stairs, ignoring the unease that had begun to form in the pit of his stomach.