“Magnus, wake up.”
She tried squeezing his hand, but it was lifeless.
“Magnus.”
She gained no response. Deirdre was not sure what to do. She looked around but saw nowhere that would offer them cover or camouflage. If they stayed on the horse, Magnus might fall off. If she could get him off the horse, she had no guarantee he could get back on. She most assuredly could not do it herself.
"Magnus, just hold on, mo chridhe. I'll find us somewhere we can stop."
Deirdre saw no hint of where they were or how close to Loch Awe they were. She looked toward the sun and oriented herself. This was another thing Magnus taught her during a summer gathering. She felt the sun against her face and looked towards the horizon. She was not so concerned about the time as she was whether she could find due west. If she could get them to the loch, she could either find them a boat or continue along the shoreline.
Knowing midday passed, she pointed the horse in the direction of the sun and spurred him forward. She held tight to Magnus's arms as he bounced about behind her. They rode for what Deirdre believed to be another two hours. Sealgair needed a rest and so did she. She wanted to push on because she was sure they must finally be close, but she would not risk laming Magnus's horse, and she was exhausted from the physical and emotional strain of holding her giant of a husband on the back of the horse. She let Sealgair amble over to some higher grass. He nibbled and shifted his weight as if to tell her they needed to get off. She was considering whether she could dismount without knocking Magnus from his steed when he decided for her. He moaned loudly, the first sound he made all day, and then lurched to his side, toppling off the horse. He landed with a sickening thud. Deirdre scrambled to dismount and rushed to him. She was frightened to roll him over, remembering he had a head injury less than a fortnight ago. It seemed a lifetime ago after the past days of fleeing first the castle then the abbey.
"Deir," Magnus moaned. "Water."
She brought the water skin to his lips and as much dribbled down his chin as went in his mouth. His eyes fluttered open, and she had never been more relieved to see their dark amber as she was now.
"Magnus, ye're vera ill. I need to see yer leg again."
"Wheest," he tried to flap his hand at her, but he couldn't lift it higher than his knee. "Dinna fash. It'll all come right."
His head lolled to the side.
Unconscious or just asleep, Deirdre did not know, but she wasted no time pushing back his plaid. The bandage was soaked through. She chastised herself for not checking it sooner. She pulled it away and moaned when she saw the state of his wound. It was festering with angry red lines shooting out from it like a spider's web of infection. It smelled sour and rotting. Deirdre went back to the saddlebag and found the wineskin of whisky. There was not much left but enough for everything she needed to do. She took a small swig and then poured a healthy dose over his thigh. He jerked awake with a curse.
"Magnus, it's going putrid. I need to clean it, but I also need to tend to it properly. I canna do that without building a fire. I must get ye back on Sealgair, but I canna do that alone. Ye must help me."
Magnus looked blankly at her through fever hazed eyes. He appeared to be considering what she said, but he did not seem to be able to make sense of it.
What is she talking aboot me being ill? Why is it so bluidy hot all a sudden? This is Scotland. I need only wait a moment and the next season will come. Then this heat will end. Why does ma leg hurt so damn badly? Shite! That fucking hurts. What is wrong with ma leg? Och, that’s right. I remember now. That bastard thought he could take ma Deirdre and still live. Who was that welp who joined him? He cut ma damn thigh. Fuck! That hurts.
“Magnus, I ken it hurts, but I need yer help getting ye back onto yer horse. We canna stay here.”
I dinna want to ride a horse. I’d much rather ride ma wife. She is mighty bonnie. I am the luckiest mon in Scotland. I love her, she loves me, and now I can tup her morn, noon, and night. Bluidy lucky.
“Ye can most definitely ‘tup’me any time ye like. Once ye are well. Magnus. Ye are beginning to really frustrate me. I dinna think ye understand that ye’re speaking most of yer thoughts. They arenae staying in just yer head.”
“Beginning,” he chuckled, “I’m only now frustrating. Then I amnae doing ma job correctly in bed.”
“Magnus!” Deirdre pulled the stopper from the other waterskin and poured the contents onto his face. He spluttered, but his eyes seemed to focus more. “Magnus, I need yer help getting ye onto yer horse. Now!”
Magnus shook his head and looked around. He had no memory of how he came to be on the ground or even where they were. He rolled to his good side and forced his legs under him. He wobbled, and Deirdre rushed to support him. They staggered together until he stepped onto the rock. He used the last dregs of his strength to pull himself onto Sealgair. He was drenched once more in sweat, and his eyes had lead pinning them shut. Deirdre grasped the reins and pulled herself onto the saddle to ride pillion. She had no way of moving Magnus further back nor did she think she could get on in front of him without knocking him off. She did her best to hold the reins and see where they were going, but Magnus’s broad body was impossible to see around. As the horse moved from a trot to a canter, she felt Magnus slipping again. She reined in and hopped down. Digging in the saddlebag, she found the hobbling ropes.
This is perfect! This will keep him on the horse, and I’ll be able to see where the hell we are going. Why didna I think of this before? Hell, why is the sea salty? I dinna ken the answer to either, but let’s get on with this.
Deirdre pulled at Magnus’s shoulders and managed to drape him over the saddle pummel to lay across the horse’s withers. She pulled his arms onto each side of the horse’s neck. She used the hobble ropes to tie Magnus’s arms together. She cinched them as tight as she dared without cutting off his circulation. She was glad for his bracers that protected his skin. She turned his cheek, so he could breathe. After adjusting the stirrups to her height, she swung back into the saddle and pushed the horse into a canter. When he did not move an inch, she pushed the horse to a gallop.
The feel of the wind rushing past her, pushing her hair off her face and free of her neck was liberating. She pushed her heels down and squeezed with her thighs. It had been ages since she could gallop across a wide and open expanse. She rode Freya whenever she could, but she was limited in how far she could go if she wanted to ride astride, and it was never deemed ladylike to ride at a gallop. She leaned over Magnus’s prone body and urged the horse to keep going faster. Despite the weight of two riders, Sealgair leaped at the opportunity to run free, so she gave him his head, and they ate up the landscape. When the warhorse’s pace slipped, she slowed him to a trot, and they both caught their breath. Deirdre scanned the horizon as they crested a hill. She caught sight of the loch and wanted to whoop as they descended to the shore. She led Sealgair all the way to the edge where it lapped against the shoal that met the bank. She did not worry about him drinking his fill since this was a fresh-water loch. She splashed water onto her face before cupping her hands and bringing the cool liquid to her mouth. The chilly water soothed her dry throat and slid an icy trail down her chest to her empty stomach. She craned her neck to catch sight of any fish that might be close enough to spear. She slipped her boots off, rolled down her stockings, and then hitched up her skirts. She pulled the dirk from her thigh band and slowly shuffled her feet into the water. The chill took her breath away, but her movement disturbed a school of fish that darted by and between her legs. She jabbed and pulled a wiggly fish up with her knife. It was larger than she anticipated. This would be enough to feed both her and Magnus until something better could be snared or shot.
Returning to Magnus’s side, she untied his wrists and tried to help him slowly dismount, but as soon as she shifted his weight, gravity did the rest, and she found herself pinned under her husband.
Beastly mon! He is a giant. I’m stuck, and
he’s out cold. Now how do I get free? I canna even wiggle ma little toe.
Deirdre lay there and looked up at the blue sky as she caught her breath. With a bit of energy restored, she dug her heels into the ground and propelled her body up to tip him off her. She rolled free. Magnus groaned as his eyes fluttered open.
“Deir? Where are we, lass?”
“We’ve made it to Loch Awe, but where on the loch I dinna ken. We just arrived.”
“How did I end up on the ground again? I remember climbing onto Sealgair but naught after.”
“Ye rolled off the horse and rolled onto me. I wriggled free.” At Magnus’s horrified and then guilt-stricken face, Deirdre felt bad but not soon enough to prevent a giggle from slipping out.
“Ye’re laughing? I could have crushed ye! I amnae doing well at being a husband. Mayhap yer father was right.” Magnus trailed off.
“What? Nay!” Deirdre dropped to her knees beside him. “Dinna ever say that again. It must be the fever speaking.”
Magnus shook his head.
“I ken I’m nae well, but I amnae dead yet. I should be caring for ye, nae the other way around.”
“That is the most ridiculous clishmaclaver I’ve heard in yonks. Did ye forget our vow already? Or were ye nae paying attention when I spoke? Too busy thinking aboot tupping me morn, noon, and night?”
Magnus winced. He could not remember saying that last bit, but he must have from the look on Deirdre’s face.
“I pledged to offer ye comfort and succor, and that is precisely what I am doing. Now haud yer wheesht. Ye are going to wish for a different type of comfort by the time I am done. Can ye get to yer feet? We need to move back a bit.”
She grabbed his outstretched hand with both of his. She pulled as hard as she could as he leveraged himself up. She almost flew backward when he was upright, and she was still pulling. Magnus’s other arm shot out and caught her.
“See. Even in yer state, ye’re still protecting me.”
Magnus muttered under his breath at the saucy smile she offered him. Deirdre was relieved that he could move about on his own and he was coherent again. She wanted to giggle again as the weight she did not realize rested on her shoulders lifted. She gathered loose twigs and branches that scattered the bank. She brought them back to near where Magnus had settled away from the waterline. She looked around and picked a handful of leaves to use as tinder. Magnus gave her the flint from his sporran, and she soon had a strong blaze going even if she kept it small.
She set about cutting more strips from Magnus’s spare leine. She soaked a few in water and a couple in the last of the whisky.
“Did ye really just pour the last of ma whisky on that scrap?”
“I had to.”
Magnus huffed, but she refused to apologize when she intended to do all she could to save his leg and to save him.
When the fire was burning blue at the base, she knew it was hot enough for what she needed to do. She pulled a dirk from Magnus’s waist. It was longer than hers. He was curious butsaid nothing. She used one of the whisky soaked clothes to wipe the blade thoroughly.
“Magnus, I dinna want to do this, but I must. I have to cut away the putrid flesh. If I dinna, it will only fester more. It’ll never heal properly.”
Magnus nodded.
“I ken it has to be done. Give me the knife, mo eun beag. Ye dinna have to do this.”
Deirdre shook her head, took a deep breath, and flipped his plaid back. She unwrapped his injury and was not sure if she wanted to cry, vomit, or both when she saw the condition of his leg. She sucked in air through her nose as she forced her hand to steady before she lifted it to his leg. Magnus grasped her wrist and pulled the knife from her hand.
“Deir, go see to that fish I saw on the shore before ma horse eats our supper. Take yer bow and see if ye can find something else to eat. I am ravenous, and since I canna ravish ye, I will settle for a warm meal.” Deirdre shook her head and did not move even though she let him take the dagger. “Deir, go. Dinna do this, please. Let me deal with it.”
The tears leaked from her eyes. She was torn. She knew she should tend to his leg for him, but she also knew she might be ill if she stayed. She understood he wanted to maintain some of his dignity. She backed away and fetched her bow, but she could not bring herself to leave their makeshift camp. She knew he was aware that she was still there, but she remained out of his sight. She heard his grunts of pain and retched. When she no longer heard him moving about or groaning, she ran back to his side terrified that something went wrong.
“It’ll come right, Deir.”
He tried to cover his leg before she saw the fresh damage done. She steeled herself to what she would see and moved next to him. She picked up the whisky drenched cloth and moved his plaid from his leg.
“Ye canna keep putting this filthy thing over yer wound. It’ll never come right if ye do.”
She straddled his calf and pressed her weight down as her hand braced against his thigh. The hand with the cloth pressed over the wound. Magnus howled in pain. His leg shook and bucked, but she would not let up. Eventually, she pulled the cloth back, folded it once, and wiped the edge of the wound. Seeing the flesh was now pink and healthy relieved her. She did not want to imagine the pain Magnus must have endured to cut away at his own leg. Biting her lip, she knew what she had to do next. There was no way she would allow Magnus to do this to himself. She moved off his leg and took his dirk to the water. She rinsed the blood from it and brought it to the fire. She pushed the blade into the hottest part of the flame. She watched as the metal heated and the fire popped. When the blade was glowing with blue waves shimmering across it, she knew it was as hot as it was safe to make it. She turned back to Magnus who was watching her. He nodded once.
Deirdre found herself in the same position as before. She straddled his calf, but this time she used her free hand to pinch the wound as tightly closed as she could. She looked into Magnus’s eyes before lining the blade up with his wound.
“Look at me, Deir.” Her eyes shifted up, and before she realized what he intended, he pressed her hand holding the blade down to his skin. The smell of burning skin and hair filled the air around them. Magnus did little more than flinch as he held her stare.
“Dinna look away, Deir. Look at me,” he ground out.
She nodded and swallowed. When they were both sure that the wound had been cauterized, they lifted the blade. Deirdre threw it to the side, and Magnus pulled her into his arms. She twisted to stay away from his wound. She curled into a ball. Guilt for not being stronger for him, shame at her weakness, exhaustion, and fear churned into a conflagration of emotions as it scorched through her.
“Mo ghaol, I am all right. I swear to ye. Ye did so well tending yer cranky patient. I am proud of ye, lass.” He kissed the top of her head and lifted her chin with his thumb. “Dinna fash. It takes more than a little scratch to do me in. Deir, I ken ye’ve seen and felt the other scars. This isnae ma first battle wound and I am certain it willna be ma last. Dinna work yerself into a puddle of tears. I would much rather be kissing ye than wiping yer neb.”
Magnus smiled as her hand flew to her nose to check if it was running.
“Ye’re a cruel, cruel mon.” She swatted at him playfully.
“Much better,” he kissed her with a tenderness that made her sigh.
Magnus leaned back against the hillock he had found to rest by. His eyelids grew heavy. Deirdre ran her finger between his brows, and the furrow relaxed. She slid her fingers to his temples. There was still more heat than normal radiating from his head, but it was not as bad as before. She slipped from his slumbering body. She moved about refilling the waterskins. She scaled and deboned the fish and cooked it over the flames. She woke Magnus to feed him the fish and water. It was not long before he was drifting back to sleep.
There was still quite a bit of daylight left, so she gathered her bow and quiver. She moved parallel to the shore, keeping Magnus’s position in sight if she
looked back over her shoulder. She meandered towards a clump of scrub brush. She found a small stone and threw it as if she were skipping rocks. A fluffle of rabbits scattered as she picked off one after another until she had three dead rabbits to take back to the fire. She freed her arrows from her quarry and turned to look at the sky.
Odd! There isnae a cloud in the sky now, and I hear thunder.
She gazed across the loch and saw no clouds there either. Sealgair’s angry whinny drew her attention. She could see the tall horse from where she stood. His ears were twitching, and his body swayed with unease. The roll of thunder sounded again, and this time she felt the ground rumble.
Shite! That isnae thunder! Horses!
Deirdre looked to the distance on the far side of the beach where Magnus rested. She could see a cloud of dirt billowing in the hazy sunlight. She dropped the rabbits and took off running, pulling her bow and quiver over her head and shoulder as she ran.
“MAGNUS! MAGNUS!”
She waved her arms over her head trying to gain his attention, but he did not seem to rouse. She pushed herself to run as fast as she could, ignoring the stitch in her side, the tightness in her chest, or the pain in her legs that were sore from riding longer than she was used to.
“MAGNUS! RIDERS, MAGNUS! WAKE UP!”
Deirdre saw his head pop up at last. She was close enough to see his face when he caught sight of the approaching party. He scrambled to get to his feet but fell backward. Deirdre pushed herself again as she felt herself slowing.
They will kill him if they catch him. And I will kill them.
Deirdre slid into the sand next to him as the faces of the men came into focus. Her father led the search party, and Hay rode to his right. Deirdre could not believe her eyes when she saw several Highlanders riding with them. Her anger flared at the betrayal. She pulled at Mangus and got him to his feet. They shuffled to the horse. Magnus lifted her into the saddle and was about to mount behind her when they heard her father’s voice.
His Highland Pledge (The Clan Sinclair Book 4) Page 24