Page 83 of A Hellion for the Highland Hawk
Hunter let the man drop and stepped right over him to scoop Nancy into his arms, his anxious gaze drifting to the tear in her wedding dress and the blood that seeped through the fabric, turning silver to scarlet.
“Daenae ye dare,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “Daenae ye dare die, love. Daenae even think about it.”
Holding her tight against his chest, he rushed out of the chapel, for though she was there in his arms, he could feel their future slipping away from him.
I should have let ye go back. I should have insisted. What did I persuade ye to stay for, if this is to be yer fate?
His heart felt like it might explode in his chest as he broke out into the fresh air. Familiar, smiling faces, still celebrating the peace between clans, suddenly turned to frowns and gasps of concern.
Isla, Elsie, Jack, and Jane tried to crowd him.
“Out of me way,” he barked, fixing Jack with a sharp look. “It was Beathan, Jack. It was me cousin. Ye’ll find him in there.” His gaze briefly drifted to Isla. “I’m sorry, Auntie. I’m sorry. He didnae leave me any choice.”
Without further explanation, he pushed through the group, only to pause and turn his desperate gaze to Jane.
“Where’s yer sister? I need her, at once,” he urged. “Beathan ran her through with a sword, and I daenae ken how bad it is.”
All he knew was that Nancy’s eyes had fluttered shut, her body limp in his arms, and she was showing no sign of waking up. Meanwhile, with every second he wasted, that patch of red spread wider.
“I’ll get her,” Jane said, her hand flying to her chest. “I’ll get her right now. Where should I bring her to?”
“Me chambers,” Hunter replied.
With that, he broke into a run once more, not stopping until he was in the very room where they should have stayed. He had been so confident,tooconfident, and if it cost Nancy her life, he didn’t know how he would endure the next day, much less all the years to come, without her.
He laid her down on the bed, trying to ignore the rumpled sheets, the hastily cast aside fabric like a map of happier, more peaceful moments.
“Stay with me,” he pleaded as he snatched his dagger from the nearby table and cut her dress up the middle with great care, the shift beneath too, until he could see the full extent of her injury.
The sword had pierced through her side—a miraculous injury, in truth, for he knew the spot well. In fact, he had a matching scar. The sword had missed all of her vital organs, but that didn’t mean she was safe. She might yet bleed out if he couldn’t stem it soon, and she still hadn’t opened her eyes, her face very pale indeed.
Minutes passed in a frantic blur as he hurried about the room, gathering a basin of water, clean cloths, and some honey to spread over the wound. He had no vinegar or wine to wash out the wound, so a dab of whiskey would have to do.
As he pressed the liquor-soaked corner of a cloth to the wound, Nancy’s eyes flew wide, a pained gasp escaping her lips.
Hunter had never been more grateful to hear such an agonized sound, nor so grateful to see her glaring up at him.
“Ow,” she muttered, almost sarcastically. “What are you doing?”
“I should be askin’ ye the same thing,” he replied, the wound looking far less serious now that he had cleaned it.
There would be a scar, no doubt, but there was every chance that she would live.
“What did ye do that for, eh?” he chided. “That was the stupidest thing anyone has ever done. I had it in hand, love, as I promised ye. Ye shouldnae have come into the chapel. Ye should have stayed outside, where ye’d have been safe.”
He was furious with her and so relieved, the feelings proving to be a strange mix.
“I… couldn’t help it,” she replied, her expression softening.
“I could have borne it if ye’d left to return to yer world in the middle of the night, but what made ye think I could live in a world where I ken ye’re gone? Where ye daenae exist at all?”
She smiled up at him, making him wonder if she’d lost a lot more blood than he’d thought. What on earth did she have to smile about when she’d almost died?
“You’re just grumpy that I saved you,” she said, with a chuckle that quickly turned into a wince, her hand moving to cover her injured side. “Ow! Right, must remember not to laugh.”
“I’m nae grumpy,” he protested as he moved her hand aside and dipped his fingers into the small ceramic jar of honey, spreading a thin layer over the wound. “I’m livid that ye behaved so… rashly. If ye’d been killed today, I wouldnae have survived it. Aye, I’d be alive, but I wouldnae wish to be. Ye’re in here, for heaven’s sake,” he declared, his hand thumping against his chest, “and I cannae get ye out, nor have any desire to. It wasnae just our bodies entwining last night, love. It was our hearts, our souls. Ye’d have killed me too if ye’d died today.”
She blinked up at him, her lips parting in faint surprise. “But I couldn’t let you die.”
