Kai’s eyes softened. “Just stick by my side and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Ye’ve got a good eye for detail, lass. It could make all the difference.”
Exhaustion washed over her again. She needed to sleep, but feared the nightmares it would bring.
Kai studied her for a long moment, a thoughtful look on his face. “Earlier, when ye said ye were a paramedic in yer time? Ye said ye ‘used to be’. What did ye mean by that?”
The dying woman’s face flashed into Caitlin’s mind and she looked away, focusing on the rough planks of the barn wall while she tried to gather her thoughts. She didn’t want to think about her past. What she wanted was to move on, to forget, to piece herself back together.
But she was beginning to realize that she couldn’t forget. Her past would always follow her, even into the fifteenth century.
“‘Used to be’ is correct. Past tense. I’m not a paramedic anymore,” she replied. “I’m...” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. I’m what? Broken. Damaged goods.
She glanced down at her hands, at the black gloves that covered them and what that signified. All of a sudden, it was too much. She felt tears gathering in her eyes and despite her efforts, she couldn’t hold them back.
Kai said not a word. He just enfolded her in his arms and pulled her into a tight embrace. The dam inside her broke and she sobbed into his shoulder as she clung to him fiercely, sobbed out her grief and her guilt until finally she sank down into dreamless sleep.
Chapter 12
Caitlin was finallyasleep, her eyes closed and the lines smoothed from her face. Kai stared down at her, seemingly unable to look away. Her breathing was even, her breath making a wisp of hair that had fallen across her face rise and fall gently. He reached down and brushed it away, then laid her down in the straw, careful not to wake her.
When he was certain she was still sleeping, he shimmied over to the ladder and descended to where he’d tethered the horse. The huge beast was dozing, head hanging down and one hoof cocked, but she came awake as Kai approached, nuzzling hopefully at his clothes.
“I know, girl,” he murmured. “We’re both hungry.” He’d given the horse some hay but it was half-rotten and unappetizing. Unfortunately, all of their supplies were left behind on the wagon. They had no food, no bedding, no fodder for the horse.
Kai checked her hooves and did his best to brush the animal down. He had no curry brush, so used a handful of straw—it was the best he could do in a pinch.
As he worked, the emotions he’d been holding back all day broke over him in a wave. Anger. Frustration. But mostly, guilt.
In his mind’s eye, he again saw the devastation of the fair, the dead and injured fair-goers.
And it was all his fault.
If he hadn’t delivered that gunpowder, if he’d destroyed it or taken it to the Order, none of this would have happened. But he hadn’t. In his arrogance, he’d believed he could outsmart Leif Snarlsson. After all, he was Kai Stewart, wasn’t he? Master of his own destiny, liver of a charmed life, warrior and strategist extraordinaire!
And those people were dead because of his arrogance.
Ah, damn it! He stopped, his hands resting on the horse’s flanks, as a wave of despair washed through him. All those people. All those lives. All ruined because—
