Not Meg. Take me, goddamn you! It’s supposed to be me.
She collapsed into a puddle at his feet, Dougal’s blade protruding from her side.
A sound of rage tore from him.
His first instinct was to drop to his knees and gather her in his arms. His next was to kill. He knew he could not help her until Dougal was dispensed with, so he reached for the nearest MacDonald clansman, wrapped his arm around his neck, and snapped it while relieving him of his blade. Dougal’s face had gone white as he stared in horrified awe at the sight of Meg slumped on the ground, but he’d recovered long enough to pull his claymore from his back, intending to finish the job on Alex.
It was already too late.
In one continuous motion, Alex plunged the dirk deep into Dougal’s heart. Almost without thought. After years of waiting for revenge, the moment of Dougal’s death was remarkably anticlimactic. And insignificant given the magnitude of what vengeance might have just cost him.
He couldn’t look at her. Not yet. Not until he could help her. And to help her, he had to take control of the situation.
He tossed a blade to Jamie, who released the others. And in a matter of minutes, with three more MacDonalds dead, the rest of Dougal’s men surrendered.
But Alex was already kneeling at Meg’s side. Her eyes were closed and her face pale, but the worst part was how still she was. Terrifyingly still, like a little crumpled doll. This couldn’t be happening. He wouldn’t allow himself to consider the possibility.
He gathered her in his arms, pulling her against his chest and pressing his mouth against her brow. The faint scent of roses still lingered in her hair. “Oh, Meg—” His voice cracked. “Why?” Despair, incomparable grief engulfed him; weighing on his chest like a stone.
It took him a moment to realize that her velvety skin was warm, blissfully warm, and her even breathing tickled softly against his cheek. Relief swept over him. He buried his head deep in the warmth of her hair. Thank God. She lived.
Carefully, he laid her down to better examine the wound. A small circle of blood surrounded the dirk, enough to make his blood run cold, but not as much as he’d feared. The blade did not look deeply embedded. His attempt to deflect the blow had likely saved her life. Hands shaking, he slid the blade from her side. She continued to bleed, but the removal of the knife had not increased the flow of blood. Not realizing he’d been holding his breath, he exhaled.
“Campbell, find me something to stanch the bleeding.”
Jamie hurried to do his bidding. Until he returned, Alex did the best he could with his plaid. The wound didn’t appear life threatening, but he would take no chances. He’d ministered many battle injuries over the past few years, but none with such personal significance.
Robbie had returned after securing the MacDonalds, and Alex ordered him to find Ruaidri, one of his older soldiers. He wasn’t a healer, but he was the best they had until Alex could get Meg to the village. A quick glance down the hill told him that his men were holding their own. So far, the plan was unfolding as they’d intended. For his part, he couldn’t leave Meg. Not until she was safe.
Jamie was at his side in seconds with a remarkably clean-looking drying cloth. Alex quickly fashioned a pad and secured it with a piece of linen torn from hisleine.
“Is she going to be all right?” Jamie asked.
“I think so,” Alex said. “But until she wakes—”
He stopped as her eyes fluttered open. Beautiful green eyes—surprisingly lucid beautiful green eyes—met his. “What happened?”
Alex could have wept for joy. Her voice sounded marvelously strong. He knew he shouldn’t jostle her, so he resisted the urge to enfold her in his arms again and kiss her senseless. Instead, he smoothed the hair from her brow. Not wanting to remind her of what happened, he answered her question with one of his own. “How do you feel?”
His question seemed to snap her back to the present. Her face lit with joy. She lifted her hand to cradle one side of his face, rubbing her palm across his stubbled jaw. “Alex, you’re alive…I was so scared.”
He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and smiled, his eyes growing suspiciously damp. Emotion locked in his throat. Everything was going to be all right. “Aye, lass, I was scared, too.”More scared than I’ve ever been in my life.
Her adorable little nose wrinkled. “All I remember is running and the dirk…” She looked down at her side and blanched. “Oh.”
“Why did you do it, love? God, Meg, you could have been killed.” The full force of what might have happened hit him hard again.
“I didn’t stop to think, I just reacted.” She gave him an adorable little shy smile. “I love you, Alex. I couldn’t let him kill you because of me.” The smile broadened as she remembered something else. “And you love me.”
“Aye, you heard that, did you?”
She nodded.
“More than my life.”
She squeezed his hand, tears glistening in her eyes. “Say it. Please.”
Alex looked deep into her eyes. “I love you, Margaret Mackinnon. With all my heart.”
