Page 71 of The Highlander’s Unexpected Wife

“Nae,” Cameron said. “All he has to do is open the door and shoot.”

“You can be shot climbing out of the carriage,” James said.

“When I open this door, you open that one,” Cameron said. He withdrew a pistol from his left boot and pressed the weapon into Alison’s hand. “If anyone tries to enter the carriage, shoot,” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“Alison, do as I say. You and Erin get on the floor.” He pushed up and set her on the floor as James helped Erin onto the floor. “Lie flat,” Cameron ordered. Their shadows flattened against the floor, and he added, “Keep quiet, no matter what you hear. Ready, James?”

James’s bulk was visible in the darkness. He shifted closer to the door. “Ready.”

Cameron grasped the handle. “Now.”

He shoved the door open as James shoved open his door. Cameron leapt from the carriage as a gunshot roared. He glimpsed the gunfire to his left, beyond the rear of the carriage. Cameron dropped onto his belly and aimed at the man racing toward the trees. The distinct click of a hammer being pulled back sounded behind Cameron. He froze.

“Do no’ move, Hunter,” Napier warned.

Cameron rolled left and swung his pistol up. Another pistol roared so loudly his ears rang as he pulled the trigger. No pain seared through him as Napier fell forward, inches from him.

“Hunter,” James called.

“I am not shot,” he called back. “Stay inside.”

Cameron crawled to Napier and felt his neck. A faint pulse. A gun had fired in the instant before Cameron pulled his trigger. Someone had shot Napier. But who? Where was the man who had run away? Damn Napier. Cameron crawled past him to the front of the carriage. He discerned a fallen man to the right of the horses. Bob. Cameron crawled to him and felt for a pulse, then released a breath when a pulse thrummed against his fingertips.

Cameron rose onto his haunches and scanned the area, but not so much as a shadow moved. The knave had probably run as fast as he could back to his horse and was far away by now. They had to get Bob to a doctor, but how? He wouldn’t leave the women behind.

He went down on one knee and felt Bob’s coat. The shoulder was damp. Cameron opened the coat and touched the shirt. Wet.

“James, have Alison give me one of her petticoats.”

Seconds later, James said, “Should I come out?”

Cameron hesitated. They had to get Bob into town, yet they couldn’t leave the woman in the coach.

“Aye,” he said. “Drop to the ground and crawl.”

James jumped from the carriage and landed in a crouch. He crab walked to Cameron, then handed him a petticoat.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“He’s alive, but losing a fair amount of blood.”

“We have to get him to a doctor, but how can we get safely away from here?”

“Unharness the horse and ride to the nearest estate. ‘Tis only another half mile.”

“A half mile in the bloody dark,” James muttered. “It might as well be ten miles.”

Cameron agreed.

“Where is Napier?”

Cameron tore the petticoat. “Near the door where I exited the carriage.”

“Is he dead?”

“Damn near.” Cameron folded half the petticoat and pressed it against the wound. He felt for a pulse again and was relieved to locate the constant beat. “You’d better start unharnessing the team,” he told James. “There was a second man, but I have no’ seen him since he ran for the trees.”