With them fighting as a team, it didn’t take very long for the last two bounty hunters to run. Though he couldn’t see it, from the way Taryn’s breath came in huffs from behind him, James knew that she was doing her best to win the fight. James’ own breath came in ragged, heaving gasps. His side still burned, but he knew he could finish things.
With an expert twist of his arm and a few tricky steps, he managed to disarm his opponent and give him a smirk. The man went pale, knowing that he was staring down death in the face.
“All right, all right,” the man began to plead, his hands already in the air. “Ye have bested me.”
Keeping his sword trained on the man in front of him, James shot a quick glance behind him, only to find that Taryn had pinned her opponent to the ground with his own sword and was using hers to threaten him.
“Please, just let us go. Dinnae kill us. Please.”
James thought about it for a moment, staring the man down until the brown circle around his eye disappeared from fear. He had no interest in killing anyone else, but he also couldn’t let them go, only for them to come back with more fighters. The last thing they needed was another ambush.
“Ye must swear on yer grave that if I let ye go, ye will nae attack us or anyone else again,” James offered coldly.
“Aye, aye. I will do anything ye ask.”
“But, James—” Taryn started to argue, nudging him in the shoulder.
“Go. And take yer man with ye. But ken this, if I see ye again, I will nae hesitate to kill ye. Dinnae make me regret this mercy.”
Not wanting to give James enough time to change his mind, the man rose and scampered for the man Taryn still had pinned. Together, they hobbled off the way they came, not bothering to look back.
As soon as they were out of sight, James fell to the ground, landing on his knees. Taryn started speaking rapidly, already arguing with him.
“Why did ye let them go? They could hide and wait for dark and attack us while we sleep. They could be heading for more of their friends to make sure we dinnae best them a second time! I ken my way around a sword, but I am nae good enough to fight off half a dozen men.”
It took her a moment to realize that James was injured, but that was all she could think about. He hardly paid attention to anything she was saying, the burning in his side too great to do so. Bearing down on his teeth, James dropped his sword and let his hands go to his side.
“Och, of course ye got yerself hurt,” Taryn quipped.
He looked up at her through his eyelashes.
“How is thismyfault? I am nae the one who put a sword through my side.”
Taryn put her hands on her hip and shook her head.
“This would nae have happened if ye had let me free when I first told ye they were hiding in the trees. If ye had listened to me in the first place, we would nae be in this position.”
“If ye had never run away from yer duty, we would nae be here at all.”
She huffed and stomped over to his horse. For a moment, James’ heart thudded, thinking that she was going to steal his horse for a second time and leave him stranded in the forest, wounded. But when her hands reached for his saddlebags and not the reins, he let out a terse breath of relief.
“What are ye doing?” he demanded to know as she rummaged through his things.
“Looking for some thread. Now lay down.”
Refusing to allow her to order him about, James opted instead to settle back against one of the logs by the fire. His hands were cold and wet from the cut in his side, and the flames felt nice. He leaned his head back to rest. He wasn’t sure how long he laid in that position, but when he managed to open his eyes again, Taryn was standing in front of him holding some leaves, a needle, thread, and his flask of whiskey.
“Let me see it.”
He contemplated his options. He could either let Taryn stitch him up so they could continue on their way, or he could refuse and bleed out long before they reached the next village. Sighing, he peeled his hands away from his side.
“Ye will have to take yer shirt off so I can see all of it. Or would ye rather I cut a hole in yer shirt?”
Resenting her arrogant tone, James began to shed his layers. First, he unwrapped the tartan length from around his shoulders and then unbuttoned his navy coat. The brass no longer shone the way it once had. His fingers then pulled at the hem of his shirt and he yanked the stained fabric over his head. The cold air danced across his skin, cooling him off in an instant.
Taryn sat beside him and got to work. She said nothing as she used fresh snow to wipe away the blood, though he saw the corners of her mouth turn upwards when he sucked in a breath of surprise. She offered him the flask, and he took a hearty swig before she yanked it back. That was the only warning he got before the burning in his side grew to a raging fire.
He cursed, but Taryn didn’t seem the least bit fazed. She simply worked on stitching the jagged edges of his skin together while he nursed another mouthful or two of whiskey. When shefinished, he reached for his shirt, but she put a hand on his to stop him.
