Before she could finish, there came another, softer smacking sound, this time from behind her.
Her horse cried out in terror and reared onto his hind legs. She grabbed for his mane, just as his front legs hit the ground in full gallop. Her reins dangling loosely, she leaned forward and held on for dear life until the horse suddenly reared up again, smacking her face into his neck, causing her to lose her hold.
The horse’s feet slammed back to the ground and he again bolted. Cate flew through the air. As the ground came rushing up to meet her, she remembered how bad it had hurt the last time she’d done this.
* * *
Connor grimaced. Sitting silently on his horse just at the edge of the forest, he could barely believe his eyes.
“It appears yer snitch had the right of it. There they are.”
Hadn’t she a brain in her head? What in the name of all the saints was Cate doing on a horse this far from the castle and with Blane?
“Aye.” Duncan reined his horse up even with Connor. “And Mairi’s with them, just as Hendri said she’d be.”
Duncan had been suspicious when he’d seen the girls sneaking out of the stable. The boy had been more than happy to share the information he’d overheard when Duncan had slipped him the shiny copper.
He’d brought the information directly to Connor, who fumed silently now as he watched the scene in the meadow beyond. The woman had no sense at all, sitting there on that horse, her legs bared from the knees down. If she were really his betrothed, if this weren’t just some horrible farce, he’d ride down there now, throw her over his shoulder and take her home with him where she belonged. Did she have no idea of how dangerous it could be out here unprotected as she was?
He was, in fact, considering doing exactly that when Beast hunkered down and began to growl.
“Do you see anything?”
It was a bad sign. He trusted Beast’s instincts. They had saved him more than once. Connor stood in his stirrups to look around, turning quickly at the sound of Cate’s scream, just in time to see her horse rear and gallop away.
“Good Christ, she’s no got her reins.” Duncan started forward, but Connor was already flying ahead of him at a dead run.
* * *
Connor fought down an overpowering need to retch as he vaulted from his horse and knelt beside her crumpled body. Don’t let her die, he prayed, please don’t let this happen again. He didn’t think he could live with another failure. He should have been with her just has he should have been with his mother all those years ago. This was his fault.
He had gone out of his way to avoid her since the night of their betrothal celebration. Being near her stirred feelings he didn’t know how to deal with, made him want things he had no right to. Still, he should never have left her alone. She was his responsibility. He had brought her here. Self-recriminations filled his thoughts, threatening to overwhelm him.
He shook his head to clear his mind. He couldn’t afford to think about it now. He had to know what he was dealing with here, just how badly she was hurt.
Gently rolling her onto her back, he saw first the blood seeping from a cut on her forehead, dark against the copper of her hair. His stomach knotted. Hair that had escaped from her braid curled around her face. He lightly brushed it back out of the way.
There was blood on her cheek where she’d scraped the ground, but that didn’t look serious. Tenderly he touched her pale cheek where the skin was scraped raw, sliding his hand down to her neck. Relief washed through him as he touched her pulse beating strong and steady there.
He was slowly moving his hands down her arms, checking for other injuries when Mairi and Blane reached them. Mairi was holding on to her side, gasping for air.
“Is it bad, Connor?” She began to sob, but he couldn’t take the time to comfort her now. “It’s all my fault. She wasnae ready. I should hae seen it. What hae I done to her?” She fell to her knees beside Cate, head in her hands.
They needed a cart. Without knowing how badly she was injured, he wouldn’t risk putting her on a horse and they were a good two hours’ ride from the castle.
“Blane.” Standing there as he was, staring into the forest, the man was of less use in a crisis than the wailing girl at his side.
“Blane!” The shout drew his cousin’s attention. “Ride to the castle. Bring us a cart. And blankets.”
Finally spurred into action, Blane sprinted to his horse and galloped away without a word.
It was early evening and they had only an hour or so of daylight left at best. The temperature had already begun to drop. Taking Cate’s hand, he rubbed it briskly between his own.
“Just open yer eyes for me, Caty. Just let me see yer still here with me.”
Reaching over to his sister, he grabbed the tail of her shift and ripped away a swath of the soft material to use for Cate’s wounds, quickly tearing it into smaller pieces.
His movement drew Mairi from her stupor. She jumped up and ran to her horse, easily pulling herself onto his back.
“I’m going, too. That stupid fool will no even think to bring Rosalyn. She’ll ken what to do for Cate. I’ll fetch her here.”
Before he could do anything to stop her, she was gone, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake just as Duncan arrived, Cate’s errant animal in tow.
“It’s no a good idea, her going off alone like that.” Duncan sat on his horse, watching the small figure disappearing in the distance for a moment before he looked down. “Is there anything I can do for the wee lass?”
“No. She’s alive, but I dinna even ken how badly hurt she is. Go after Mairi. Keep watch over her for me.” He blotted at the wound on Cate’s head with the cloth in his hand.
“Here, laddie.” Duncan tossed a silver flask down to Connor as he started past. “This will help with cleaning her wounds. And when she wakes, a few swallows of that will ease her pain.” The old warrior grinned. “Many’s the time it’s eased mine.”
Giving his friend a grateful nod, Connor dampened the cloth with a few drops of the whisky. As he turned back to clean the wound on her head, he found her staring up at him.
She smiled weakly, “You’re always here to rescue me, aren’t you? Every time I need you, there you are.”
Her comment lanced through him, bringing a sharp pang of guilt. No, he hadn’t been there when she’d needed him.
She moaned and closed her eyes as she tried to sit up, but he held her down with a firm hand.
“Dinna move around, Caty. I’ve no decided what you may hae broken yet.”
The gash on her forehead wasn’t deep and the bleeding had nearly stopped, but a large discolored bump was forming. He blotted at it with the whisky-soaked rag. Her breath hissed as she sucked it in and her eyes flew open.
“Good Lord, Connor. What do you think you’re doing to me? She jerked her head, and but for his firm hold would have moved away.
“I’m cleaning the gash on yer head so yer no down with the fever tomorrow. Then I’ll check to see what you may hae broken.”
She’d closed her eyes again.
After pouring whisky onto another cloth, he noted with disgust that his hands shook as he lightly blotted the scrape on her cheek.
She hissed softly again and slapped at his hands.
“Weel, I guess you’ve no broken yer arms.” Dropping the cloth, he began to methodically move his hands down Cate’s body, feeling for anything amiss.
“Don’t do that. It hurts. Nothing’s broken.” She slapped at his hands again as he tried to keep her from sitting up. “Stop pushing and poking at me, Connor.”
Deciding that allowing her to sit would do less harm than fighting to keep her down, he assisted her to a sitting position.
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “I’m a healthy woman. I don’t smoke or drink. I take vitamins. I get my minimum daily requirements of calcium every single day. It would be highly unlikely that I would have broken anything. Oh, ouch.” She wrapped her arms around herself an
d leaned over. “But everything hurts.” She groaned and closed her eyes again. “I hate these freakin’ horses.”
She was ever saying things that made no sense to him, so he couldn’t depend on that to determine whether or not she might have suffered serious injury to her head. It didn’t look so bad now, but it worried him greatly. You could never tell with head wounds. He’d seen it many times after a battle; strong warriors with what appeared to be a minor bump on their head would go to sleep and never wake up. And she was no strong warrior. He would need to keep her awake.
He silently resumed his inspection of her, feeling her legs and then moving to her back. Her dress was torn from her shoulder and the skin cut and oozing blood where she’d obviously made impact when she’d landed. A large bruise was already forming on the fair skin around the laceration. Although this cut was deeper than the other, the slow loss of blood would seem to indicate that there was no need to stitch or, God forbid, to cauterize the wound. He would need to clean it right away to prevent the fever that so often accompanied wounds.
He smiled wryly. Based on her earlier responses, he didn’t think she was going to like that.
“Ouch. I mean it, Connor. Quit poking me. My bruises have bruises,” she complained.
He smiled in spite of himself and held out the flask to her. “Here. This will help the pain.”
She groaned through gritted teeth as she turned around to glare at him. “I’ll make you a deal. How about that?”
“Anything you want, Caty darlin’, just drink the damn whisky.” She was the most stubborn woman he had ever met.
“Well, there’s only one thing in this place that I hate more than your nasty whisky”—she made an awful face and shivered—“and that’s your nasty horses. Promise me that, no matter what, I never have to get on a horse by myself again; that anytime I ever have to go anywhere on a horse it will be on your horse, with you holding me on it tightly. Promise me that, Connor MacKiernan—swear to it on your honor—and I’ll drink whatever you want me to.”
He’d have been willing to promise her almost anything. To have her request turn out to be something he’d already determined to make happen anyway made him want to laugh out loud. At this very moment, he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms, where he could keep her safe.
Instead he placed his hand over his heart and adopted the most solemn look he could manage.
“I promise. I vow it on my honor.” He shoved the flask into her hand. “Now drink,” he ordered firmly.
She tilted the flask up and immediately began to gasp and cough. “Oh Lord, that tastes worse than Cody’s Drambuie.”
He pushed the flask back to her mouth. After the second drink, her eyes were watering.
He encouraged her to take yet another.
“You may be surprised to learn that the liquid gold in that flask yer so quick to spurn is a highly valued item in this land. I myself am quite fond of it.”
Her look of disgust brought a smile to his face.
A few minutes later, when she screamed as he cleaned her shoulder with that same liquid gold, he wished he had saved a bit of it for himself.
CHAPTER 11
Thankfully she had been right. Connor could find nothing broken. His main task now was to keep Cate from going to sleep.
“How much longer do we have to wait here?”
Weariness was evident in her voice. Whether from the head wound or from the whisky, he couldn’t be sure.
“As best I can tell, another couple of hours should bring them back.” It would be full dark before then. Fortunately it looked as though they’d have a goodly moon to guide them tonight.
“This is ridiculous, this just sitting here.”
He had never seen her sulky before. With her braid coming down and tendrils of hair curling around her face, she looked quite young.
“I’m cold, Connor.” She frowned up at him. “I’m cold and I’m hungry and I hurt everywhere. I just want to sink into a big tub of really hot water. I want to go home. I want to go home right now.”
“A fortnight, Caty. Just a fortnight more and you’ll be free to go home.”
He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. Just the thought of her leaving caused a strange tightening in his chest. He’d concentrate instead on what he could do to keep her warm until the cart arrived.
“No.” She barked at him, stopping him in his tracks. “Not my home. Home here. You already know I haven’t broken anything. Why can’t we just get on that huge monster horse of yours and go now? Why do we have to just sit here?”
“It’s yer comfort I’m thinking of, lass. The cart will be easier for you.”
“Ha. Like bouncing around in a great wooden wagon for a couple of hours is going to be more comfortable than being held by . . . ” She suddenly stopped talking and stared wide-eyed at him.
Shaking her head, she continued quietly. “I just want to go, Connor. I don’t want to sit here anymore.”
Now that he was sure she had no broken bones, there really was no reason to continue to wait. He felt the brief sting of annoyance at his own lack of action. Only with her did he act so foolishly. They would just take it slow and easy. Somewhere along the way, they would meet up with Blane and the others coming back from the castle.
Without another word, he tied her horse’s lead to his saddle and, lifting her easily, climbed on his own mount, nestling her securely into his embrace.
* * *
The rhythmic plodding of their ride was lulling her to sleep. He repeatedly jostled her awake as she drifted off, but he needed to do more. If he could just get her to talk, that should keep her awake. But what to talk about?
Well, there was that one little thing that had been nagging at the back of his mind recently.
He cleared his throat, working up to the question.
“The night I brought you here, you said you were preparing for a wedding. Whose wedding?”
He held his breath while waiting for her response, not understanding why the answer was so important to him, only that it was.
“Mine.” She shrugged.
Of course, he should have realized that. It explained why she had been so distressed at having to remain here longer. She had a life, a man waiting for her. He had never even thought to ask, his concerns for his sister outweighing anything else.
They rode quietly for a time as he considered the idea of her marrying. An irrational anger built toward the unknown man waiting for Cate in her own time.
“Is it this Cody that you’ll marry?” His voice shattered the silence of the night and she jumped.
“Cody?” She sounded sleepy and confused.
“You mentioned him earlier tonight. You said something about his Drambuie.” He hoped he didn’t sound as irritable to her as he did to himself.
“No, Cody’s my brother.” She sighed. “I have three of them. Brothers.” Her slurred words gave testament to the effects of the whisky.
“Then who is the man yer marrying?” Impatience made his words sharper than he’d intended.
“Richard.” She yawned and put her arms around his waist. “But I’m not marrying him.”
“Yer making no sense, lass. You say this Richard is the man yer to marry, but yer no marrying him?” He was bewildered, but strangely relieved.
“I am engaged to be married to Richard.” She pulled her arm away from him and held her hand up in front of his face. “See? There’s my engagement ring.” The small stone reflected the bright moonlight as she waved her hand back and forth before lowering it once again to his waist. “But I’m not going to marry him.”
“That wee stone was his betrothal gift to you?” When she nodded, he considered for a moment. “It’s no so large as the gift I gave you, is it?”
“No, Connor, it’s not. Yours is much larger.” She began to giggle, and he waited patiently until she finally recovered.
“Is that why yer no marrying him then? Because he’s poor?” He waited anxiously for her answ
er.
“No. In fact, he’s pretty successful. He makes a lot of money. He has a nice house, nice clothes, nice Porsche.” She looked up at him and shook her head. “Don’t even ask—it’s kind of like a cart in my time but a lot more comfortable, and, trust me, Richard has a really expensive one. No, I’m not marrying Richard because I don’t love him.” She laid her head against his chest. “And I don’t want to talk about Richard anymore. Thinking about him just makes me angry.”
“Was he bad to you then? Did he hurt you?” His hands clenched on the reins, causing the horse to balk. He consciously relaxed his grip.
“The only thing he hurt was my feelings. He made me think he loved me, but he didn’t. It’s just as well. I know now that I never really loved him anyway. It doesn’t matter.” She sighed deeply.
She might say it didn’t matter, but her sigh made him think otherwise. Richard must be a great fool to trifle with this woman’s heart in such a manner. Connor smiled grimly as he thought of how he might enjoy the opportunity to meet this Richard.
She was relaxing, drifting off to sleep again. “What is this Drambuie you spoke of, and why did you hae yer brother’s?” Anything to keep her talking.
“You know, it’s actually kind of funny you don’t know what that is since it was invented right here in Scotland. No, wait, I guess it really isn’t. It won’t be invented for a couple hundred years. I read about it on the bottle. Bonnie Prince Charlie and all.” She shook her head and sighed. “God, I hope I’m not screwing up some space-time continuum by telling you stuff. This is so weird. Anyway, it wasn’t my brother’s. Okay, technically I guess it was but he gave it to me. For my birthday. When I turned twenty-one.”
All this time she’d been here and he knew so very little about the woman he held in his arms. “How old are you then? One and twenty?”
“No.” She giggled again. “In fact, since I won’t even be born for something like seven hundred years, I guess I’m a huge negative number right now.” Followed by another wave of giggles.
He gave her a stern look and arched his eyebrow. “Dinna try my patience, lass.”
Thirty Nights With a Highland Husband Page 10