Strong hands grasped Kenna underneath her arms and lifted her free of the wagon.
“No. I have to stay with him. Put me down.” She locked her heels on the wagon’s side and strained to reach Colum.
Colum flailed toward her 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 my woman I love her and I wait for her beyond the gates of this hell. Swear it!”
“I swear,” she said before everything went dark.
CHAPTER29
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, he slept without the aid of drugged whisky. But the fact that he no longer put up a fight made her more worried than ever. He had grown noticeably weaker each time the fever broke.
She 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 had given him all the drug-laced alcohol they dared. If they gave him anymore, his thrashing fevers wouldn’t kill him, the alcohol and herbs would.
Worrisome patches of angry red flesh blotched with white striations covered his wounded side and shot across his swollen shoulder. The darker, bluer streaks concerned Kenna the most. The pressure of the ground against his lacerated flesh while he was buried was the only thing that had kept him from bleeding out. But at what cost? Who knew what kind of bacteria had taken up residence in his wounds? They had cleaned him up as best they could, but who knew if they had 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 his blanketed thigh and tried not to cry. Her body had no pain compared with the ache in her heart. Colum’s declarations echoed through her mind like an accusing conscience. She 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.
His pale blond lashes seemed to glow against the bluish shadows 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 wagon. Soon, they would stop and it would be time to change out all the bandages except for those immobilizing his leg. She cringed against the thought. Changing the dressings always caused him so much more pain.
At Ronan’s assurance of his man’s abilities, 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 additional infection than he already had.
His gray coloring disturbed her, and the motionless depth of his current state made her 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 hadn’t she paid closer attention?
The wagon lurched again and whacked her head against the backboard. She flinched at the pain and massaged her head 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 theif onlygame were just a waste of life’s precious time.
She 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, then smoothed the cloth across Colum’s already burning-hot flesh. Her heart fell. The fever had returned quicker this time. She 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 his mottled chest. How could the man nearly burn to the touch but still be blue-tinged as though he was freezing?
She 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. She 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.
Disappointed and even more worried, she sank back 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 she adjusted a pillow between her hip and the iron framing of the wagon, a familiar sound stayed her hand. She 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 held. That had to be Karma. That grumbling, loudrarr rarr rarrcould only be Karma’s hunting bark. Trulie must have convinced the dog to leave his beloved Chloe long enough to help them find her.
She 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.
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. Her 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.” She didn’t want anyone else hurt. There had been enough pain.Kenna bit her tongue against saying it 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. She pushed her way between the horses until she stood in the road beside Ronan’s mount.
“Get back to the wagon. This is not a 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.” She limped to the middle of the road a few feet in front of his horse. “There will be no fighting,” she called back. They didn’t have time for it. They had to get Colum home.
“Lady Kenna!” Ronan’s growl reminded her 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.”
She ignored him 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. She hugged the dog, unable to control her tears 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.
She 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 never listens to reason.”
