upward to ward off the coming blow, he drove forward, determined to end the fight here and now. His mind was ablaze, and he was confused as hell as to what Genevieve had done.
He never had the chance. Before he could deal the killing blow, Genevieve notched another arrow and sent one into the back of his opponent’s neck. The arrow plunged directly through his Adam’s apple, coated in bright red blood.
An odd, sucking noise gurgled from the McGrieve warrior, and blood seeped from his mouth just before he toppled forward like a felled tree.
Bowen instantly spun to see that a McHugh clansman—one who had not fled the keep with Patrick—held a dagger in his hand and it was obvious that he’d planned to plunge it into Bowen’s back.
Genevieve’s arrow had struck him through the forehead—an impossible target at best—and yet she’d made not one but two lethal shots with her bow.
The McHugh betrayer was suspended in air for the longest time, his eyes glazed and gray, until finally he sagged and folded like a dropped blanket, the knife slipping from his grasp just before he hit the ground.
The earth shifted beneath Bowen’s feet and he swayed precariously, his head spinning. And then Genevieve was at his side, shouting for aid.
She drove her shoulder forcefully under his, fitting it into his armpit as she valiantly kept him from tumbling to the ground. Jesu, but he must have lost more blood than he’d imagined.
He nearly toppled them both, but her stubbornness prevailed. He heard her muttered oaths and smiled at the lass’s colorful language. She had quite the saucy mouth.
“Give aid to your laird!” she bellowed in a voice that carried across the courtyard.
One of his eyebrows went up at her forceful command. The lass would do well leading troops in battle. A man would have to be a fool to gainsay a woman with a growl like hers.
“Ah hell, Bowen, you’ve gone and managed to injure yourself.”
Brodie’s aggrieved voice echoed close to Bowen’s ears, but he lacked the energy to look up and find Brodie’s position.
“The lass saved me,” he said faintly, thinking that if he were to die Genevieve should at least be credited with prolonging his life a few more minutes.
“You’ll not die,” Genevieve snapped. “ ’Tis a paltry wound at best.”
“Now she mocks my pain,” Bowen said mildly.
Brodie’s face appeared in front of Bowen, worried, his eyes crinkled with concern. “You’re not making any sense. Babbling about like a drunken sot. And you’re bleeding like a slaughtered pig.”
“Am I?”
He looked down, surprised to see the entire front of his tunic turned scarlet. Then he tightened his jaw, bracing himself against the pain.
“I’ll not rest until every last McHugh is driven from this place,” Bowen vowed.
“They are retreating,” Brodie assured. “We suffered minimal losses. When ’twas obvious we were well represented, despite our smaller numbers, the McHughs and McGrieves beat a hasty retreat. Our men are pursuing them to our borders now.”
The matter-of-fact accounting soothed Bowen’s agitation and pain. The world was spinning with increasing frequency, and he feared losing consciousness before he could ask the most pressing question.
He opened his mouth, but it had gone dry. He licked his cracked lips, sudden thirst gripping him.
“Patrick,” he said hoarsely. “What of Patrick?”
Before there was any response, his knees buckled and he heard Genevieve’s cry of alarm just before the entire world went dark.
Genevieve made a grab for Bowen, but he was far too heavy for her to prevent him from falling to the ground. Brodie lunged and managed to save Bowen from eating dirt, hauling him up to hang Bowen’s arm over his shoulder.
“Take him inside the keep to his chamber,” Genevieve ordered briskly. “Post a man you trust to guard his door at all times. There are vipers in our midst. A McHugh tried to kill Bowen after swearing allegiance to him.”
Brodie gawked at Genevieve, his eyes narrowing.
“Go!” she directed. “He is losing more blood and his wounds must be tended. I must send word to his brother. We are in a perilous position, and now, with him wounded, we are even more weakened.”
Brodie nodded tightly. It was apparent he had no love of taking orders from a lass, but her commands were logical. This much she knew. He could hardly argue with her when Bowen’s life’s blood was seeping onto the ground.
Hauling Bowen over his broad shoulders, Brodie staggered slightly before gaining his footing and hastening toward the entrance to the keep. Genevieve looked warily around,