“Aye. The remains of a small fire. I was about to head back to call out a search party when I was jumped from behind. When I awoke, this fellow was leaning over me, bandaging me hand.”

Duncan glanced at his cousin’s sword hand as he held it up. It was wrapped tight with a strip of plaid.

“I must have broke it as I fell,” Allistair admitted grimly.

Duncan frowned at that, then glanced down when his wife slid her hand onto the crook of his arm. She smiled at him gently and he raised a hand to cover her own where it now lay on his arm, then turned as Allistair continued.

“A second man was there as well, already dead. This fellow told me that he be a messenger from Lord Rolfe. He said he’d been sent with news of Seonaid, and that he had come along as Greenweld’s man was about to cut me head off. He interfered, they fought, he was injured, and the other one died.”

Both Duncan and Angus were silent for a moment, exchanging a glance, then Angus asked, “You were not conscious when the two fought?”

“Nay.”

“And you never saw who hit you over the head?”

Allistair shifted uncomfortably, his gaze sliding to the man he held upright. “Nay.”

“Then you have no proof he is who he claims to be?” Angus sounded more disappointed than anything as he murmured that. Allistair was looking pretty disappointed himself; then he suddenly brightened.

“He showed me the message.”

“The message?”

“Aye. He was afraid he would bleed on it, so he gave it to me. ’Tis in my belt, I stuck it through there ere helping him onto me horse.”

Angus moved forward to search for the message as Duncan asked, “Where was his horse?”

“I put the dead man on it.”

“The message must have fallen out on the way back,” Angus muttered, straightening. “Where was the dead man’s horse?”

“I don’t ken.” He glanced at the man he held. “Mayhap he kens.”

“Ye say ye brought the other man back, too?”

“Aye. He’s hung over a horse outside.”

Angus turned and gestured to one of the men in the room. The fellow immediately moved out of the great hall.

“Do you not think we should tend his wound?” Iliana asked at last when they all continued to stand around glaring at the unconscious man. Angus and Duncan peered at her as if she was quite mad.

Even Allistair looked taken aback at the suggestion as he asked, “Tend to the wound of an Englishman?”

Iliana frowned at their reaction. “He is injured.”

“He is English.”

“What has that to do with anything?”

“Scots don’t heal an Englishman’s wounds, wife,” Duncan explained gently. “They cause them.”