CHAPTER FIVE
His shoulder was afire with pain, and his shirt was turning crimson with his blood. Blake was aware of both of those things, and yet, he couldn’t seem to make either his body or his mind obey him. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t lift his hand to staunch the blood, or make any response to Reyna’s startled gasp of horror.
He’d been hurt before. He didn’t know why this wound, of all the ones he’d suffered, was making the world spin lightly around him and go gray at the edges. It was deep, but... he wrenched the knife free, and nearly collapsed where he was.
Arms caught him around the shoulders, and he looked up into Reyna’s frantic face as she berated him. “O’ all the foolish things tae be doing, nae bothering tae parry that blow or block it.. yer a fool, Blake.” He blinked hazily at her, and she shook him, even as she tied a makeshift bandage made from some of the cloth she used to wrap her herbs over the wound. “Dinnae ye dare faint or worse on me. I’ll nae have ye be leaving me behind again, dae ye hear me?”
She tightened the bandage a little further, then rose to her feet. “Stay here, and stay awake, or I’ll dump cold water and thistles down the back o’ yer trews, see if I dinnae.” He shuddered at the image.
Reyna disappeared among the trees, and Blake stared after her, feeling slightly shocked at her apparent dismissal of his condition. He knew he deserved her scorn, and it was only fair if she left him to deal with his injuries himself. Even so, he knew she was a healer to her soul, and he hadn’t thought she loathed him so much she’d leave him when he needed her.
Och, ye daft bugger, and what better time fer her tae make her escape from ye? She kens where yer horse is, and all the supplies both o’ ye were carrying. Besides, she made it fair clear earlier how she felt about ye. And it’s the sort o’ thing that would appeal tae the gods’ sense o’ humor, isn’t it? Tae be abandoned and left tae wait until there’s nae hope left, as I left her all those years ago.
His throat ached, and his eyes stung. Before he could sink further into his despairing thoughts, however, he heard the soft thudding of horse’s hooves. He raised his head, and spotted movement in the underbrush, which resolved into Reyna, leading the horse gently but firmly by the reins. Her basket was slung over one side of the saddle. The animal shied a bit at the smell of blood that permeated the clearing, but Reyna soothed it and led it forward.
Once it was beside him, she tied off the reins and bent to grip his shoulder. “Come on. We need tae get ye tae some sort o’ shelter, so I can tend that wound properly.”
He blinked at her again, his thoughts foggy and incoherent in a way they hadn’t been since the last time he’d gotten stinking drunk with one of the other Murray guards. Still, one thought floated to the surface with enough persistence that he managed to catch hold of it. “I thought ye left. Went back home, or somewhere else. Even on tae Murray Keep fer yer braither, without me.”
Reyna snorted, a soft, bitter sound, as she tugged him further upright and urged him to his feet. “We need the horse, fer I cannae carry ye any distance, and ye’re in nae shape tae walk more than a few steps. But unlike ye, I come back fer those I’ve given me word tae, or those who need me.” Her expression softened a little. “Besides, ye did rescue me, and we were childhood friends, long ago. Even if ‘tis because o’ old memories and honor debts, I’d nae feel right tae leave ye untended.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if those were truly her only reasons, and if it was only duty and honor that kept her with him, along with determination to ensure Laird Murray had no reason to take retribution against her kin. His words, however, were cut off by a gasp of pain as she tugged on his arm to help him rise.
With her help, he got onto the horse, and she perched on the saddle in front of him. It took both of their hands to hold the reins, for all that he tried to stop their shaking. He knew he’dlost a fair amount of blood, and the wound was a deep one. Still, when she offered to let him hold onto her, he tried to force his cold mask back into place. “I’m well enough.”
“Dinnae be daft. Ye can barely hold ontae the reins.” She exhaled. “We need a place tae stop fer the night, somewhere secure where we can hide from bandits like those.”
‘Better tae continue on.”
She glared at him over her shoulder. “And let ye bleed all the way tae Murray Keep. Nae a chance. We’ll be stopping somewhere tae tend tae that shoulder afore night truly falls.”
He shook his head. “Ye dinnae need tae be so concerned about me. I dinnae need it, and I havenae earned it.”
“And who says I am concerned about ye? Mayhap I just dinnae want ye tae bleed all over me nice clothing, seeing as it’s all I’ll have until me kinfolk arrives fer the wedding.” He winced at the acid sharpness of her tone. “And ye ken, I am just a spoiled lass, who likes tae be comfortable, and I’d be more so in a safe place fer ye tae get better care rather than a makeshift bandage slapped over yer shoulder and already bleeding through.”
He might have laughed, but it hurt too much. Even without that, his hands were shaking, and nothing he could do would make them stop. He recognized the signs of blood loss and shock. With a frustrated huff, he gave in.
“Take the path down tae the river and follow along the bank. There should be a cave close by, one big enough fer both o’ us, and with enough grazing fer the horse. I’ll surrender tae yer ministrations there if I must.”
She snorted, clearly unimpressed with his bravado. Nonetheless, he felt her kick the horse into motion, and they started forward.
Blake tried to focus on the path, and on the horse, but he couldn’t seem to make his vision work right. Or his arms. In the end, he was forced to focus more on his deep breathing, and hope that she found her way to the cave he’d described.
It was a nerve-wracking, confusing, yet also heady feeling to have Blake perched behind her, muttering nonsense phrases and snatches of whatever crossed his mind while they made their way down to the stream to look for the cave he’d mentioned.
It worried her how much he was shaking, and how fast the makeshift bandage she’d tied around his shoulder had turned crimson. She didn’t think the injury was one that would require a heated knife to seal it against blood loss, but it was difficult to tell.
She guided the horse toward the sound of running water, until they came to a moderately sized stream. Reyna looked upstream, then downstream, and spotted a large, craggy outcropping a little way upstream. Heart pounding with the fear that it mightbe a hole hiding more brigands, she turned the horse and guided the animal toward it.
There were no bandits, but there was a small cave nestled into the stones. Reyna dismounted and led the horse in that direction, then set about the business of easing Blake out of the saddle and arranging their makeshift campsite.
A candle-mark later, Blake had been settled within the cave on a low pallet of blankets, with the saddle serving as a pillow. She’d managed to build a modestly sized fire and locate the food rations she knew he was carrying for the journey. By that time, Blake had dropped into an uneasy, half-conscious doze, his face pale and sweat-streaked as he tossed and turned restlessly. Reyna bathed his brow with cool river water, then set about using a battered cup she’d found in his pack, along with her own implements, to heat water for two. She wanted some water for a poultice to stave off infection and promote healing, and another fer a tea tae help do the same thing. She also started heating some of the meat and cheese they’d both been given to make a meal.
She turned from her tasks to find Blake staring blearily at her. His eyes were hazy with pain and half-delirious. “What are ye doing?”
“Making something tae ease yer pain and help ye heal.”
Blake made a soft sound, his eyes filled with a complicated mix of emotions, some of which she recognized as shame and regret. “Dinnae deserve ye…”
