And it was unbearable.
Rushing down the steps his workers had cut to access the trench, he yelled at McIntosh to summon the doctor before joining the other workers in shifting the rubble off Chris.
“We broke through tae the entrance tunnel proper,” one of the men said to him as they worked. He pointed to the rectangular opening behind where they stood.
It was indeed an entrance tunnel, perhaps four feet highand scarcely more than two feet wide, all capped by enormous cut stones bearing the weight of the mounded earth above it.
“Mrs. Newton stepped forward tae inspect the tunnel, but we hadnae stabilized the surrounding walls yet. They broke loose,” the worker continued, indicating stones and earth near the entrance. “We couldnae do anything tae stop it afore Mrs. Newton were buried.”
Chris whimpered softly as they lifted the largest stone off her legs.
Instantly, Alistair moved to crouch beside her, taking her filthy hand in his.
“I’m here, lass,” he murmured. “I have ye.”
“Alis,” she whispered, eyelids fluttering, her fingers tightening around his.
He wanted the fast hold of her hand to be a promise, he realized. He wanted it to be a beginning.
“The tunnel—” She winced as the men moved the last of the dirt and rubble off her body.
“Can ye tell where ye might be hurt most?” Alistair rasped.
“What about the tunnel?” she asked instead. “We need to investi—”
“Devil take it, Chris! Ye nearly crushed your wee head, and ye still be on about the tunnel?!”
Her eyes blazed with life. “We broke through!”
“Aye, and it’s been here for thousands of years. I ken it can wait another day or three afore feeling the scrape of your razor trowel. Where are ye hurt?”
Chris shifted a wee bit. Relief poured through him as her legs moved easily beneath her mud-caked skirts. Her spine appeared uninjured.
She moaned and winced again. “My left ankle is afire.”
“We need to get ye back to the castle as quickly aspossible.” Gently, Alistair slid his arms under her back and knees, lifting her into his arms.
“I can try to walk,” she protested as he staggered upright. “Or let the men fetch a litter to—”
“Nae, lass,” he said gruffly, shifting her in his arms. “Let me carry ye.”
She stopped arguing, not mentioning the tunnel or protesting his touch. Instead, her head sank into his shoulder as she gave her weight over to him. All of which only ratcheted Alistair’s alarm.
If she were not truly injured and hurting, his fierce, independent Chris would insist upon walking, upon investigating the tunnel further instead of being carried away.
Carefully, he tucked her against him and climbed the steps out of the trench, striding toward the castle. She was far too light in his arms, only reinforcing his worry over her underfed frame. Her shoulders trembled, her body likely descending into shock.
He quickened his pace.
How many years had it been since someone had watched over this woman?
And if he wished that person to be himself, what would it take to convince her?
CHRISSI SAGGED INTO the heat of Alis’s chest.
Her ankle pulsed with a blinding pain that set stars to sparking behind her closed eyelids.
She didn’t want to find comfort in his arms. It felt too much like home, and she feared for her heart if she permitted herself to bask in it.
