“Callum – she is hurt!” Aonghus shouted when the oldest MacCade tore the horses alongside them.
She blinked heavily; if she had been given a sleeping draught she couldn’t have grown more tired. How did she land onto Laoch? Wait…how had Aonghus grown such a long beard in one day? No, this was Callum looking down on her with a worried look; but how was Callum running at a speed which rivaled the waves crashing the shores? Horse, they were on a horse – it was Laoch. Where was her Aonghus? Shock ebbed her mind, filling it with clouds thick as those above them.
“Aonghus?”
The Scotsman she cried for shouted from some foggy place: “Keirah!”There he is.
Darkness crashed over her.
Chapter 39
“The barber surgeon declared it shall not be much longer,” Aonghus heard Callum assure him while he paced outside the tent in the late morning.
SHITE! SHITE! SHITE!
In the span of less than a day he had nearly lost her twice!
Callum asked in tone meant for his ears alone, “Why the hell did fate not reverse?”
“Keirah has insisted fate does not always shine her favor for a reverse.” He spat the words with rage. “Only when seen fit.”
The tent flap opened and Aonghus leapt forward. “How…?”
“Sir Aonghus” – the barber surgeon raised his hand to silence him – “Lady Keirah’s wound has been washed with wine belonging to our lord king’s own stock.” The elder’s gaze darted toward Alexander’s tent, set a distance away. “I have stitched the arrow wound; it grazed her flesh. The arrowhead struck more upon her skirt layers than her flesh. I have applied honey onto her wound, same as your cuts, then wrapped with a fresh linen. Forthwith, rest is paramount.”
“Aye,” he replied rapidly.
“I will be by later to check upon her ladyship once more,” he stated efficiently, then scurried off.
Callum gave him a nod as Aonghus charged for the tent flap. The rain had slowed so the pattering moisture echoed on the linen roof as he found her settled upon a straw-filled pallet. His guts twisted; she looked pale and tired. The days past had taken a fierce strain; he guessed he didn’t offer a dashing portrait for her at spying his salt-caked hair on his eye’s periphery. It seemed this didn’t matter when her face lit up at the sight of him.
She eagerly greeted him while leaning up onto her elbows. “Aonghus!” If his love for this lass could shine bright as her smile, the whole Highlands would be blinded by the sight.
Leaning down in navigating the low roof, he rushed toward her. Dropping onto his knees, he pulled her close; the unique scent that was her mixed with the ocean flooded his senses.Safe.She was safe within his embrace once again.Aye, thank all above.
He closed his eyes; the moment he saw the arrow catch on her skirts, her lovely features twisted by pain with fear, flashed again. The sound of her cry when it struck echoed in his ears. His lashes snapped open. SHITE! Why hadn’t it struck him? Why had fate seen to have her suffer further?
More salt graced his face, but not from the ocean. He pressed his cheek close to hers.
“Aonghus,” she whispered, her breath brushing his lobe, “do not weep, I am well. ’Tis only a scratch; I believe the sight of the arrow caught me more in terror than any other matter.”
“Cluaran,” he murmured, his mouth caressing away the tears from her emotions trailing her cheeks, “Icannotlose you.The mere consideration causes a darkness within my soul to tear free.”
“You didnotlose me, my knight,” she promised. “However, I am certain the time shall come this eve for us to part upon your raiding the bark ship’s final supplies.”
He leaned back, meeting her gaze. “You heard my thoughts shared with Callum regarding the supply ship?”
“Aye,” she peeped, then declared, “The plan is brilliant, even if the means merits you having to take your leave with Sir Brayden.” He opened his mouth to counter. “Nae, my knight, he will need you along with those deemed up to the task.” Her eyes lowered in what appeared almost shame while staring at her injured calf peeking out from her raised hem wrapped in linen. “Seems I shall only slow your efforts given my wounded leg.”
“Your efforts have brought ushere, my lady,” he challenged; her gaze rose meeting his. “At a threshold nae other Scot has seen us to for centuries – even kings themselves have perished in this quest. Never do I wish nor want to see disappointment marking your expression again, agreed?”
The heat from her lips pressed his as soon as the last word left his lips. The salt from their tears flavored the kiss. If the taste of her could cause his soul to shine, a star would have ignited in this very tent. Her hands began roaming over his torso and lower; a desperation began taking root at their movements born from a different instinct. A growl rumbled in his throat when she found his bare torso under his tunic; he leaned her back against the pallet…
“Sir Aonghus!” A formidable summons vibrated the air.
Aonghus broke off the kiss begrudgingly; he discovered the surgeon scowling at him near the tent opening. “Her ladyship was to remain calm!” The barber surgeon’s liver spotsappeared darker on his face at the scolding. “If you cannot command restraint, I will demand you keep a distance till she has had time to rest, understood?” Could he have halted if the surgeon hadn’t appeared? His fingers tightened on Keirah; it didn’t seem possible.
The surgeon took a bold step forward. “Our lord king, whom I just paid call to in apprising him of Lady Keirah’s wounds, has summoned you. The Northmen are still holding onto our shores after your escape. There is a need to plan with his advisors.Directly,Sir Aonghus.”
