He merely grunted, tightening his grip even more. I wasn’t sure where he found the strength to hold me as firmly as he did. It would’ve been suffocating if it weren’t so damn comforting after the unnerving, unending moments of stillness before he awoke.
I heard the knife against first one, then another of the straps and then we tumbled out of the carriage into the muck.
Kit’s only response was a pained huff. I scrambled off him while Alfie and Rory pulled him away from the remains of the carriage.
“Stop it. I can move.”
“You’re bleedin’ something fierce,” Alfie grunted as he and Rory dragged Kit to the base of a nearby tree. I stumbled to my feet only to collapse to my knees in front of Kit where they’d propped him.
Quickly, I found another handkerchief in the pocket of Kit’s coat and pressed it to his forehead, careful to keep my dirty fingers from his wound. His hiss was sharp but he didn’t pull away.
“Head wounds bleed a lot. It’s fine,” he protested, batting ineffectually at my wrist.
“Where else are you hurt?” I demanded.
“I’m fine. There’ll be some bruises, that’s all.” The improvements to his speech gave me some hope. When his eyes opened again, clear, piercing chocolate pinned mine, my hope turned to something like elation. “Are you well?”
“Just muddy,” I insisted. “Rory? Alfie?”
“We’re well. Just a bit shaken up,” Rory answered behind me.
Tentatively, I pulled the handkerchief away, breath caught as I waited. Blood immediately pooled before dripping down toward his eye. I struggled to catch it with the handkerchief once more, earning another wince.
“What day is it?” I asked
“What?” he demanded, irritable.
“What day is it?”
“April something. We’ve been in that blasted carriage for so long that time has ceased to have meaning.”
I tried to pull the handkerchief away again but was forced to press it right back to the wound. Rory’s hand appeared over my shoulder with another that I snatched in my free hand.
“What is your name?”
“Kit. You’re Davina. That’s Rory, the old variety, not the wee variety, and there’s Alfie.”
Carefully, I switched the handkerchiefs, keeping pressure.
“Where did we meet?”
The question earned me an eye roll, but I was mostly pleased to see that the handkerchief didn’t immediately soak with blood, instead transitioning more slowly.
“You were eavesdropping. And stealing at my sister’s wedding.”
I tried again to lift the handkerchief away. Ten, perhaps fifteen seconds passed with even less bleeding. I caught his hand, brought it up to hold the handkerchief in place, and I pulled away. He caught my wrist in his free hand and interlaced our fingers.
“Where are you hurt?” he pressed again.
“I’m unharmed. Truly. But you’re going to need stitches. Keep pressure.”
He merely groaned at the thought.
“Stay here for a moment,” I said, squeezing his hand gently before rising and turning to Alfie and Rory, noting for the first time that the horses were nowhere to be seen. “The horses?”
“They were all a-fright. We had to cut them free so they didnae tear the thing to pieces. They’ll be round here somewhere,” she replied.
I nodded, not ready to sort out frightened horses. “Can you two help me get the trunks?”
