eyes, though he couldn’t see it. “Dinna pretend to be offended, wee messan.” She didn’t even care what he was laughing about anymore. It would probably only irritate her further.
“Och, I’m no lap dog, Mistress, but if I were, I’d let ye pet me.”
Jenny clenched her jaw, refusing to play into his insults, but the image he created in her mind—him curled up at her feet while she stroked his head—did make her want to laugh.
Jenny swung her right leg over the front of her horse and then slid down the side of her mount instead of waiting for Toran, who didn’t seem to be in a hurry to follow.
When she glanced back up at him, she could see a hint of surprise in his face despite the darkness and then a smirk as he carefully studied his surroundings. Too carefully. That cold knot of dread grew icy.
“Get off the horse, afore I have him buck ye off,” she ordered.
“Aye, Mistress, will do, Mistress.” Coming from anyone else the words might have been taken as respect, but she knew very well he was mocking her.
Her gaze roved over to the other man, whom her guard, Mac, was carefully taking down off the horse. “He’s unconscious, Mistress.”
Toran moved then, leaping off the horse in much the same way she’d just done, only his kilt rose when he did, showing a fair amount of his muscled upper thighs with just a hint of his arse.
Jenny swallowed hard and jerked her gaze away, pretending she’d not just seen so much of his flesh and refusing to be impressed by the blatant show of strength.
Toran rushed over to Mac, and she hurried after him in case he was about to attack her man. He only took his companion into his arms, giving a little shake. “Archie, wake, man.”
Archie did not stir.
The look of anguish on Toran’s face was palpable. But Jenny forced her emotions aside. How could she show sympathy for a man who’d only teased her since their first moments of acquaintance, a man she had no reason to trust? Well, she didn’t have to. But she could help his friend.
“Bring him inside.” She shoved open the double wood-slatted door, heavier than most croft doors for extra protection and privacy.
A single small candle lit the inside of the house, its dim light casting shadows on the walls, revealing the familiar furniture as black lumps.
They cleared off a long trestle table where countless men in the same predicament had lain and placed him on it.
When more candles were lit, she could see how badly wounded Archie was. The man was swollen, his entire body covered in dark bruises, and if she wasn’t mistaken, one of his arms was definitely broken—beneath the surface of his skin, bumps protruded that shouldn’t. There were cuts about his face that likely needed stitching.
What she hadn’t expected to see were the similarities between Toran and Archie. They could have been brothers. Both sported dark hair, though only Toran’s seemed to glow auburn in the candlelight. Their bone structure was similar, with a wide square jaw and cheekbones sharp enough to cut. They shared the same wide brows, though one of Archie’s was split open.
Toran held a candle over his cousin, examining his injuries as well, and when he glanced up at her, the light from the flame brightened his eyes, eyes the color of the sky where it met ice-capped mountaintops.
“Ye’ll help him?” he asked, a desperation in his voice that slugged her in the chest.
“Aye. We will.”
“We will be forever in your debt.” He looked disappointed about that, his mouth a grim line.
“I didna bring ye here to be in my debt.” Jenny jutted her chin out. “I brought ye here to fight for your country.”
Without missing a beat, he replied, “Ye ken Archie was imprisoned for doing just that.”
Jenny gazed down at the wounded warrior, taking in the extent of his injuries. When she looked back up at Toran, anguish had crippled his features once more before he visibly exhaled and his face was calm again.
Guilt ate at him, that much was obvious. Did he blame himself for this man’s condition? Judging from the quick look she’d given him, Toran’s injuries were slight, just a few scratches and the awful stench. But Archie had taken a brutal beating.
Archie was imprisoned… Was Toran not?
“Were ye with him when he was captured? Beaten?” she asked.