Part of him wanted to put the delectable Miss Sinclair on the next ship back to England. Part of him wanted to cover her sweet body with his and forget the rest of the world existed.
Striding from the chapter house and through the garth, he made his way out of the door on the west side and scoured the lush green landscape.
Damn it. He would have to go back and search for them. By God, if he found them happily at their leisure he would unleash the Devil's wrath on the pair of them.
Pacing back and forth for a few minutes, he decided to walk as far as the gate. When he reached the gate, he decided to walk for another five minutes. That's all the time he would give them.
As he strode along the dusty road, mumbling and cursing at his own stupidity, he spotted their horses. Breaking into a jog, he raced down to the grassy verge to find Miss Sinclair sitting on the ground, leaning back against a tree. With her face white and ashen he knew something was wrong.
"What the hell happened?" He struggled to hide the panic in his voice.
"I … I came off my horse," Miss Sinclair said, wincing as she tried to move her leg.
Guilt stabbed a sharp spear into his chest.
"We were trying to keep pace with you," Tristan said, his tone revealing his reproof.
Marcus knelt down beside her, torn between wanting to pat her legs and being too damn scared to touch her. "Is anything broken?"
"No." She shook her head. "I'm just a little bruised. It's my fault. I haven't ridden in years and should not have pushed myself so hard."
Marcus sighed. It was his fault for listening to the jealous jibes of his inner voice. "I should have waited. I'm sorry."
Even Tristan's eyes widened at the sound of his apology. And by God, his friend would take great pleasure in teasing him for it later.
"Can you stand?" Marcus asked showing genuine concern.
"I don't know." She shuffled forward a touch. "Could you lend me your arm for a moment?"
"Of course. Tristan, take Miss Sinclair's other arm." When his friend made no reply, Marcus glanced back over his shoulder to find Tristan examining her saddle. "Tristan!"
"Sorry, what did you want me to do?"
"Can you take one arm and I'll take the other. We'll support her weight until we know for certain nothing is broken."
Tristan nodded and came to stand at Miss Sinclair's right side. With them both kneeling beside her, she draped her arms around their shoulders as Marcus slid his other arm around her waist.
"On the count of three?" Tristan suggested.
Marcus nodded, and they lifted her up to her feet.
"It's my right leg," she said hopping as she attempted to place her foot flat on the ground. "I'm certain it's not broken. It just feels a little tender that's all. See, I can hobble on it."
"Still, it's best not to take any chances." Marcus jerked his head towards the horses. "Tristan, if you lead the horses back, I'll carry Miss Sinclair."
"Carry me?" she gasped. "No, no, it won't be necessary. I can manage."
Marcus did not give her another chance to argue. As Tristan stepped away, he hauled Miss Sinclair up into his arms despite her squeal of protest, taking care not to hold her right leg as he did so.
As soon as he'd done it, he knew it was a mistake. Left with no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck, she pressed her supple body into his, and it took a tremendous amount of effort not to groan. Tristan seemed oblivious to his predicament as he took the reins and led the way back.
"You should put me down," she said, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath breeze over him. "I'm too heavy to carry all the way back to the monastery."
"Nonsense." His masculine pride refused to accept her reasoning. "I've carried a man twice your weight two miles or more through terrain far more unstable than this."
Perhaps fearing she might fall from his grasp, she tightened her grip around his neck. "Am I hurting you?"
"No." He was too busy worrying about the burning heat racing through his body; he was too busy imagining a scene where he carried her up to his bed. "But you don't have to hold me so tight. I'm not going to drop you."