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her stride off kilter due to
the missing shoe.
    Isobel looked down
at the wound on her shoulder and released one arm from around Alex’s waist so
that she could examine it.  She winced as she peeled back the ruined fabric of
her gown to expose the wound.  It was crusted with dirt and blood and would
need a good washing before it was bandaged.  Isobel took in a swift, shaky
breath as she dislodged a small pebble that was crusted into the raw flesh of
her wound.  A fresh trickle of blood arose where the pebble had been and she
wiped it away with her finger.
    She had been very
fortunate not to have broken her neck.  Very fortunate indeed.  There would be
a scar left as a reminder of this reckless act.  Isobel vowed to regard the
scar as a reminder of how precious and fragile life could be.
     
    ..ooOoo..
     
    Isobel felt a
sudden surge of panic bloom within her as Alex brought his horse to a stop in
front of the blacksmith’s shop.
    “Why are we
stopping here?” she asked as her heart raced wildly in her chest.
    “Apple lost a
shoe.  We need to get it fixed,” Alex said as he slid down from his horse and
looked at her as if she had gone daft.  “Ye should get down and stretch your
legs for a moment,” he said as he offered her his hand and helped her down from
the back of his horse.
    Tristan walked out
of his shop and stopped in his tracks when he saw Isobel.  His eyes locked with
hers momentarily and then looked away sharply in an effort to hide his
surprise.
     Isobel had been
hurt and he fought the urge to go to her at once.
    “Afternoon,
Finnegan,” Alex said in greeting.  “Lady Isobel’s horse slipped a shoe.  D’ye
have time tae fit her for a new one?”
    “Aye,” Tristan
nodded as he struggled to control his whirling thoughts.
    Isobel felt the
intense burn of his hazel eyes on her skin and she looked away at once.  She
wanted to run into Tristan’s arms and allow him to comfort her.  She wanted to
tell him of her father’s passing and why she had not met him as planned for her
lessons with the dagger.  She could tell from the look in his eyes that he had
been hurt.
    “It looks as
though Lady Isobel has suffered an injury,” Tristan said to Alex.  “The horse
can wait.  I’ve plenty of time to fit her for a new shoe, but I reckon we
should take care of the Lady’s needs first.”
    “Have you anything
to clean it with?” Alex asked as he looked over at Isobel’s blood crusted
wound.
    “Aye.  Let me wash
my hands and I’ll tend it for her.  I’ve a mind for cleaning up such things on
horses, ye ken?”
    “Alright,” Alex
said as he motioned for Isobel to follow Tristan.  “Call if ye need us,” he
said dismissively as he walked over to join the rest of the guards who had
gathered in the shade of a small tree across the street from the shop.
    Isobel’s heart
raced as she followed Tristan beneath the roof of the open-air shop. She had
not dared to dream that her guards would allow her to be alone with Tristan.
     Her blood rushed
at the prospect.
    “Sit,” Tristan
said as he motioned to a tree stump that he often used for a stool.  He still
did not look at her and began to scrub his hands in a clean basin of water in
preparation of tending Isobel’s wound.
    Isobel followed
his order and sat on the stool, smoothing her dirty skirts about her legs.  She
could tell by the cold manner in which Tristan regarded her that he was being
extra careful.  They could not allow the guards to know that they knew each
other.
    Tristan dried his
hands and turned towards her now.  He glanced over his shoulder to ensure that
the McLaughlin men were still seated at a safe distance beneath the tree.  It
was not that he was weary of McLaughlin’s men, it was that he was weary of what
they might tell Isobel’s father should they suspect anything. 
    He grabbed a small
basin filled with water and a clean cloth.  His fingers ached to touch
Isobel.   Tristan fought the urge to run his