Authors: Maeve Greyson
Kenna blinked hard against her fears, refusing to give way to more tears as she grabbed the skin of water from overhead, wet a rag, and smoothed it across his face. “You have to be still, my love. Please, you have to be still.”
Colum stared up at her with unseeing eyes. His burning-hot breath burst free of his lungs in wheezing gasps. She had to get him cooler. He had to hang on. He had to be kept still.
A glance at the rags wrapped around his leg confirmed Kenna’s greatest fear: It was too late. Fresh blood already seeped through the strips of cloth, soaking into the split lengths of wood holding the leg straight. “We’ve got to get him still. We’ve got to get him calmed down.”
“Where is she? Where is Kenna? What have ye done wi’ m’woman?” Colum stared blindly up into Kenna’s face. His splotched skin deepened to an angrier red with every word he spoke.
“I’m here.” Kenna drew closer, until the tip of her nose nearly touched his. “I am here, Colum. I’m right here with you.”
“Ye must find her.” Colum shook his head free of her hands as though Kenna had never spoken. “Ye must find her and tell her I love her. Ye must make her know I love her more than life itself. Tell her I canna live without her. Tell her I’d rather die if she can ne’er be mine.” Colum grabbed hold of the front of Kenna’s dress and yanked her down closer. “Swear it t’me. Swear ye will make her believe m’love for her is truer than the North Star.”
Kenna choked back another sob as tears finally broke free and blinded her. She rubbed her cheek against her shoulder to stanch their flow down her cheeks. “She knows you love her.” Kenna hiccuped through a sob as she lifted Colum’s head and leaned all her weight against him. She took the bottle of herb-laced whisky from Liam and held it to Colum’s mouth. “I swear to you, she knows how much you love her. Now drink. You must drink this if you ever hope to see her again.”
Colum obediently gulped down several swallows, his eyes still wide and unseeing.
Ian jumped into the wagon, a fresh length of rags in his hands. He looped them tightly around Colum’s leg and tightened them about the splints.
Colum grimaced and thrashed against Ian’s ministrations, all the while spitting out a tirade of screamed Gaelic. He threw Kenna against the side of the wagon as he fought the men.
Strong hands grasped Kenna underneath her arms and lifted her free of the wagon.
“No. I have to stay with him. Put me down.” Kenna locked her heels against the wagon’s side and strained to reach Colum.
Colum flailed toward Kenna as well, lunging at her with a raging growl. With wild, feverish eyes and tears streaming down his ghostly white face, he wrapped his fingers around her throat and squeezed. “Swear it! Swear ye will tell m’woman I love her and I wait for her beyond the gates of this hell. Swear it!”
“I swear,” Kenna choked out right before everything went dark.
Chapter 29
Kenna eased another pillow under the sling holding Colum’s left arm. She smoothed the sweat- drenched hair away from his pale, clammy face and pulled the blanket higher on his chest. The fever had finally broken, and for the first time Colum slept without the aid of drugged whisky. But the fact that Colum was no longer putting up a fight made Kenna more worried than ever. He’d grown noticeably weaker each time the fever broke.
Kenna scrubbed a hand across her gritty eyes and prayed the fever wouldn’t return. It had spiked to a terrifying inferno in ever-more-frequent cycles as the never-ending journey continued. They’d given him all the drug-laced alcohol they dared. If they gave him any more, his thrashing fevers wouldn’t kill him, the alcohol and herbs would.
Worrisome patches of angry red flesh blotched with white striations covered Colum’s wounded side and shot across his swollen shoulder. The darker, bluer streaks concerned Kenna the most. The pressure of the ground against Colum’s lacerated flesh while he was buried was the only thing that had prevented him from bleeding out. But at what cost? Who knew what kind of bacteria had taken up residence in Colum’s wounds? They’d cleaned him up as best they could, but who knew if they’d done enough?
Kenna flinched as the wagon lurched and bounced. She shifted her weight for the hundredth time in a futile attempt to find a position that would be a bit easier on her bruised and battered body. She rested a hand on Colum’s blanketed thigh and blinked against the threat of more tears. Her body had no pain compared with the ache in her heart. Colum’s declarations echoed through her mind like an accusing conscience. Kenna pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed the inner corners of her burning eyes. She couldn’t think about that now. All that mattered was getting Colum back to the keep. All that mattered was that he lived.
Colum’s pale blond lashes seemed to glow against the bluish bruises under his eyes. The fevered sleep of the severely wounded did him little good. She couldn’t bear to think of the pain he was in, rattling around in the back of the damn wagon. Soon, they would stop and it would be time to change out all the bandages except for those immobilizing his leg. Kenna swallowed hard against the thought. Changing the dressings always caused him so much more pain.
At Ronan’s assurance of his man’s abilities with wounds, Kenna had allowed Dougal to clean up Colum’s more serious wounds as best he could and seal them over with honey. Somewhere in her memories of a much happier time, Kenna recalled that Granny and Mairi had told her honey was one of nature’s finest antibiotics. Colum had enough stacked against him without adding infection to the list—at least not any more infection than he already had.
Colum’s gray coloring disturbed her, and the motionless depth of his current state made Kenna wonder if they had already given him too much of the drugged alcohol. She pressed her fists against her eyes and racked her brain for every tidbit of medical information Trulie, Mairi, or Granny had ever spouted.
Dammit to hell. Why didn’t I pay closer attention?
The wagon lurched again and whacked her head against the backboard. Kenna flinched at the pain and massaged her fingers through her filthy tangled hair. Maybe that was fate’s way of telling her to snap out of it. Granny always said self-pity and the
if only
game were just a waste of life’s precious time.
Kenna dampened a rag at the mouth of the water skin, replaced the stopper, and hung it back on the hook in the side of the wagon. She smoothed the cloth across Colum’s already burning-hot flesh. Her heart fell. The fever had returned quicker this time. Kenna glanced up at the cloud-filled sky. Usually, the fever spiked worse late in the day. It was just barely past noon. She ran the cloth over Colum’s mottled chest. How could the man nearly burn to the touch but still be blue-tinged as though he were freezing?
Kenna spread the damp rag on the wagon’s side and stretched to see where they were. The wagon rocked from side to side, occasionally lurching hard in the direction of whichever wheel had managed to roll into a hole. Kenna held on to the side of the wagon and looked back at Colum. Even though he didn’t twitch from the rough ride, something told her he couldn’t take much more of this. They had to get to MacKenna keep soon.
Kenna sank back down beside Colum. She didn’t recognize any of the trees or pillars of stones strategically placed along the roadway. But as tired as she was, she couldn’t guarantee she would recognize anything.
Just as Kenna adjusted a pillow between her hip and the iron framing of the wagon, a familiar sound stayed her hand. Kenna held her breath, tilted her head, and strained to hear it again. A distant bark—deep and insistent—echoed through the cool Highland air like thunder. Kenna smiled and released the breath she’d been holding. That had to be Karma. That grumbling, loud
rarr rarr rarr
could only be Karma’s hunting bark. Trulie must have convinced the dog to leave his beloved Chloe long enough to help them find her.
Kenna latched onto the side of the wagon and pulled herself to her knees. Sliding through the blankets and pillows, she worked around to the front of the wagon, grabbed hold of the seat brace, and stretched to see around Liam’s back.
A black form that in the distance looked like an elongated dot rapidly grew larger as it moved toward them. Karma—great black beast that he was—loped toward them, his body stretched out to its fullest, most-ground-eating speed. Several yards behind the dog, a clumped group of riders galloped toward them, still so far away Kenna couldn’t make out their number. As the oncoming horsemen poured down the hillside, the riders seemed endless. Kenna’s heart swelled with excitement and gratitude as the wagon rolled to a stop. From the look of it, Gray had mobilized the entire clan to find her and Colum.
The ground shook as the horses thundered closer. Karma’s barking call changed to a guttural warning growl. Ronan’s men urged their horses to either side of the wagon and behind it. Only one man remained in front: Ronan on his great black steed.
Kenna floundered her way to the back of the wagon. “Liam. Help me get out of here. If I don’t get to where they can see me, they won’t know what’s going on.”
I don’t want anyone else hurt. There’s been enough pain.
Kenna bit her tongue against saying her thoughts aloud, but it was what it was. Ronan’s men were sorely outnumbered and didn’t stand a chance.
Liam hopped to the ground and ran to the back of the wagon, all the while keeping his concerned gaze trained on the mounted Highlanders racing toward them. He swung Kenna to the ground and steadied her on her feet. “Yer clan rides well.”
“Yes.” She didn’t have time for niceties right now—she had a clan war to defuse. Kenna pushed her way between the horses until she stood in the road beside Ronan’s mount.
“Get back to the wagon. ’Tis no’ place for a woman.” Ronan stared straight ahead as he spoke. His gloved hand rested on the haft of the sword he had already pulled from its sheath.
“Put your sword away.” Kenna limped to the middle of the road a few feet in front of Ronan’s horse. “There will be no fighting,” she called back over one shoulder. They didn’t have time for that crap. They had to get Colum home.
“Lady Kenna!” Ronan’s growl reminded Kenna of Karma’s warning bark when Granny’s cat got too close to his food. “Woman, ye best hear me. I said get back to the wagon.”
Kenna ignored Ronan and raised her arms, waving at the oncoming riders. Karma reached her first. The dog greeted her with a series of happy yips and snuffling woofs as he bounced all around her and butted her with his great broad head. Kenna giggled and hugged the dog. Tears escaped down her face as she rubbed a cheek against his satiny black ears.
Karma stiffened. The warning growl rumbling deep in his throat shook his muscular body as Kenna held him in her arms.
Kenna stood and turned. “You should really stay back there until I have a chance to explain everything.”
Ronan had dismounted. With sword in one hand and a glistening black targe in the other, he slowly walked toward Kenna. “I dinna hide behind any woman—even a fearless stubborn sort who ne’er listens ta reason.”
Karma lowered his head, flattened his ears, and bared his fangs. His growl shifted to an eerie clicking rumble as he eased forward in a tensed crouch, ready to spring at Ronan.
“Karma. No.” Kenna stepped between the snarling dog and the scowling man. “It’s okay, Karma. Everything is okay.”
Karma eased back, flicked an ear, and stared at Kenna as if to ask if she was sure.
Kenna rested her hand atop the dog’s broad head. “I promise. Everything is fine.” Kenna sucked in a deep breath as Karma relaxed back on his haunches. The dog still glared at Ronan as though he wished the man would give him an excuse to rip out his throat.
“Lady Kenna!” Chieftain Gray MacKenna shouted across the remaining expanse of road as he pulled his horse to a stop, dismounted, and ripped his sword from its sheath in one fluid move. He held up a hand to the rest of his men as they flanked their horses on either side of the road and completely surrounded Sutherland’s men.
Kenna rushed toward Gray, hot tears of relief streaming down her face.
Finally.
They were almost home. For the first time since they had pulled Colum from the debris, she allowed herself to actually believe he would make it.
“Lady Kenna. Are ye well? Ye look…” Gray’s voice trailed off as he motioned from the top of Kenna’s matted hair down to the shredded muddy hem of her dress. “What the hell did the cur do t’ye?”
“I saved her,” Ronan said, as he stormed forward and stood beside Kenna.
Gray pulled Kenna behind him and raised his sword. “Ye best concentrate on savin’ yer own arse. Ye have much to answer for.”
“Stop it!” Kenna grabbed Gray’s wrist as she moved out from behind him. “Both of you just stop it.” They didn’t have time for this. Colum was dying.
Gray kept his sword raised as he glanced back and forth from Ronan to Kenna. “When Rua returned without Colum, we feared the worst. Yer sister and Granny are both nearly sick with worry. What say ye, Kenna? Explain t’me why ye defend this man who has caused such strife in our lives.”
Kenna swallowed hard and glanced toward Ronan. His sword slowly lowered and his stance widened, as his eyes narrowed into a pair of waiting, watchful slits. Kenna took a deep breath, then exhaled. It was time to keep her word. Her Sinclair heritage demanded it. Only one Sinclair had ever broken an oath, and she had paid for that dishonor, first with her life and then with her soul.
Sliding her hands away from Gray’s sword arm, Kenna bowed her head and moved to Ronan’s side. She rested her fingertips against the cold rough surface of his targe as she lifted her chin. “I defend him because he saved my life and because he saved Colum and…” Kenna took a deep breath and stood even straighter. “…and because he is my husband.”
Gray took a step forward, eyes narrowing and head tilting as if he hadn’t heard quite what Kenna had said. “He is yer what?” He stared at Kenna in disbelief.
“My husband,” Kenna repeated, wincing when her voice cracked on the word. There was no going back now. She had made a promise and she would keep it. She cleared her throat and raised her voice. “I am Ronan Sutherland’s wife.”