“Gog.”
She frowned and bit her lip. “Go? Is that what you're telling me?”
He nodded once. She glanced across the meadow, the way she had meant to go. But she didn't really know where to run or what direction she was facing. Willa was skilled in many things. Growing up, her sisters had taken on most of the responsibilities of the household: gardening, animal husbandry, cooking, mending, even hunting. Willa could do any number of those things, but she was directionally challenged. She knew her home county like she knew her own face, but if he asked her which was east, which was west, she had no idea.
She glanced up at the sun, but it was directly overhead and no help at all. A pillar of smoke rose to cover it, giving the sunlight an ominous orange tint.
“I don't know where to go,” she admitted. “I need you to help me and you need me. If they find you… Well, it's safe to say you can't remain here, so please, take whatever strength you have left and try to get on your feet. I will help you.”
He exhaled, his breath wheezing through the mouthpiece of the helmet, but then he didn't breathe again, and Willa's heart stopped. She’d already watched one man die defending her today.
“No!” She shook his chest, slapping the hard expanse, and he drew in another breath and gripped her hand.
* * *
“Ssstill herrr,” he lisped, swallowing a mouthful of blood.
Dirt streaked her cheek, and her honey and brown eyes glossed with tears. He couldn't quite hear her words through the dull roar in his head. A cannon fired over and over against his temple. He hurt from his hair to his toenails. The only place he felt comfort was the hand that she held.
He wished she could hold his whole body and erase the pain from him.
Who was this woman? What happened to him? Why did he hurt so badly?
“Well, I think that's three lives you’ve used so far. So unless you're a cat and you've got seven more, I suggest you stay with me, and we find shelter and if we are able, a doctor.”
He must be dying. At least his last view of this world, he shared it with her. It was that moment he realized one very poignant thing. He didn't know where he was or who he was. His eyes widened, his heart still beating away; miraculously it sped up to a bruising maniacal pace.
What the devil is my name?How the hell did I come to be here?
Who was this woman? How had she come to be here? He quickly glanced around. He was in a field, hazy with smoke. There must be a large fire somewhere. What was this weight all around his head, and why could he only see a sliver of her? He blinked and reached for his face, his hand meeting metal. Why was he wearing a helmet?
Was he in a battle?
His thoughts drifted back and forth like logs in a river, bobbing up and down in his consciousness but too slippery to grab. His eyes kept drifting closed, heavy and burning with blood and sweat under this damn helmet.
He was too tired to even care what had happened.
He didn't want her to see him like this. He didn't want this beautiful woman to watch him die, a stranger even to himself, in a goddamn field. At least, he thought it was a field, he couldn't see beyond the sky and her radiant face.
She drew close to him and reached under him. Her hair fell over the face of his helmet, the womanly musk of her skin filling his nostrils, and he breathed deep even though it hurt. This might be his last chance to smell a woman. His heart seemed to slow, and his breathing eased, her nearness bringing him sweet relief.
* * *
She hugged him. She'd never hugged a stranger before, but she wiggled her arms underneath his upper back and helped him to sit up. He groaned as she lifted him, but he braced himself with the one hand and was able to push himself to a sitting position. Blood soaked his collar and the metallic smell filled her nostrils.
She swallowed, her stomach turning uncomfortably. She'd cleaned her share of fish, but it was Georgie or her father who did the butchering. Willa just didn't have the stomach for it, and the sight of all that blood made her queasy. She pushed the thought away. There was no time for softness. This man's life was at stake. He risked his own to save hers, the very least she could do was return the favor and not lose her composure down the front of him.
She took his hands and pushed back on her feet, digging her heels into the soft earth. He lurched up into her arms, and they stumbled but remained standing as he leaned heavily on her, his breathing harsh.
“There, we've done it. Our first victory of the day.”
He was heavy enough to make her stagger and fight to hold him. She could feel how his body was strong and powerful, even though he was so weak right now. Was he one of the bandits? Had their relationship soured over a disagreement over the spoils of their thievery? Well, it didn't matter now, did it? Though it might matter in the future if he proved to be truly unscrupulous, but he had rescued her. In a way, he'd given her the opportunity she needed to escape. She would do the same for him.
She eased to his side, his arm as heavy as a tree branch across her shoulders, and they began a slow trek across the field. She looked back once, the black smoke rising higher, but no one else came from that direction. Perhaps they knew where to flee, and she was carrying him farther from civilization. She truly had no idea how far the bandits had carried her from the coach or where the closest town was, but she prayed that they would find some sort of shelter and someone to help him remove this helmet and tend his wounds.
Chapter 9
Willa walked until her muscles cramped and shook, and pins and needles stabbed her feet. They came upon a cluster of rocks, and she helped him sit down on a boulder. She sank to her knees, out of breath, unsure she would be able to get up again.
