by Willa Blair
It wasn’t but a moment or two before he had it. Even Ewan looked dumbfounded at the sight of the blood-splattered Ian on the great black horse.
Ian spoke loudly, using his acting skills to project his voice. “Angus Mackenzie is gravely wounded. If you drop your weapons, now, there is a chance of saving him.” To his surprise, the Mackenzie men obeyed, dropping their swords and dirks on the ground and raising their hands high.
Ewan ordered his men to keep their weapons trained on the Mackenzies. He guided his horse over to Ian, who finally allowed Jack to lower his forelegs to the ground.
“What happened, Ian?”
“I fought with the Mackenzie leader and he’s badly wounded. We must get him back to the village and help him.”
Ewan laid a hand on his shoulder, his expression sympathetic. “You did what you had to do, Ian.”
Ian looked into Ewan’s sharp brown eyes, relieved that Ewan seemed to understand his anguish. “Aye, I know that. But Ewan, he called me by my father’s name. He’s the man that can help us end the feud. We need him alive.”
Ewan nodded sharply. “Aye, let’s go, then.” They wheeled their horses around and galloped to where Ian had left Abby and Angus.
****
Abby’s arms were beginning to ache from the strain of keeping pressure on the man’s wound. She dared not check to see if the bleeding had stopped until Ian returned to help.
She couldn’t help but think about what had just happened, picturing it in her mind as though it was a series of slow-motion movie images: The man running toward her with his sword held high, Jack’s hoofs thundering ever closer, the horse’s huge body sailing over her as though he was Pegasus, the thud of his hoofs as he landed, and the sudden clang of steel as Ian’s sword met Angus’s.
Though she’d admired the skill and grace of the two men, she’d been scared to death for Ian. After all, at the end of the day he was just an actor. His opponent, on the other hand, had been trained from an early age to fight, and to mean it.
She felt warm blood on her hands and snapped out of her reverie, pressing harder on the wound, wincing as the man groaned in pain. She heard hoofbeats and looked up to see Ian and Ewan approaching, Conall trotting alongside. He was alive! Ewan dropped nimbly to the ground and sank to his knees next to Abby.
“Let me have a look, lass,” he said gently, lifting her hands away from the bloody wound. Abby breathed a sigh of relief to finally move aside and let someone else take over.
She got to her feet and threw herself into Ian’s arms. He crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair. “Oh, Ian, thank God you’re all right! When I heard that scream…I couldn’t tell if it was you or him. I thought you were…”
“Shh, Abby, it’s okay,” Ian whispered in her ear. He leaned back and gazed at her with troubled eyes, touched her face with trembling fingers.
“Abby, are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine.” She pulled back and ran her hands over his body, checking for injuries.
He caught her hands and brought them to his lips. “It’s okay, Abby. I’m not hurt.”
“But how are you otherwise?” She couldn’t read his expression, and that worried her.
He led her to a fallen log and sat down, pulling her down with him. “I don’t know, Abby. All I could think about was preventing him from hurting you, but then that wasn’t enough. I meant to kill him, and I didn’t spare a single thought to the consequences of that. This man is their leader, and he obviously knows my father, and he’s lying there bleeding to death because of me. I…”
Abby laid her fingers over his mouth. “Shhh, Ian. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Don’t give up on him yet.”
“But Abby, I nearly killed a man!”
“And you were doing it to save my life, so I’m the last person to fault you for it.” She held his head to her breast, trying to suppress her own trembling long enough to comfort him.
“What about Alannah, Ian? Is she all right?” She’d nearly forgotten her friend with everything else that was going on.
“I don’t know, love. We found her unconscious outside the cottage. She wasn’t bleeding, but she didn’t wake up. Andrew is actually staying with her.”
“Andrew?” That was a surprising twist.
“Aye. Apparently if he insults his granddaughters, it’s okay, but if someone else does it, it’s not okay. He wasn’t in shape to ride with us after you, so he stayed to look after her.” His hand tightened around hers. “Come, let’s go see what’s going on with Angus.”
Ewan was rising to his feet when they reached him.
“How is he?” asked Ian.
“The wound is deep. I did what I could for now, but we need to get him back to the village—and hope that Alannah is awake and can care for him properly. She’s our most skilled healer.”
They carefully lifted Angus onto Ewan’s horse, and Ewan climbed up behind him. They rode back to the village as quickly as they could, but it still took almost an hour, as men and horses were exhausted. The Mackenzie prisoners were led away, and Angus was carried to Ewan’s cottage. One of the village women was fetched to tend to him, while Ian, Abby, and Ewan rode to Alannah’s cottage.
As they approached, Conall broke away from them and charged ahead, yipping with excitement. The door swung open, and there was Alannah, awake and upright, though she was very pale. Conall launched himself at her, and she sank to her knees, throwing her arms around him.
Ewan muttered something, and Abby turned to see his head bowed and his eyes closed as if in prayer. She had but a moment to think about that before Ian reined in. Abby scrambled to the ground and ran over to her friend.
“Abby! You’re all right!” Alannah got to her feet and threw her arms around Abby.
“I’m fine. But what about you?”
Alannah grimaced. “My head hurts, but I’m well enough. ’Twas very strange to see Grandda sitting here when I opened my eyes.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He didn’t say anything at all. Just sort of grunted at me, asked if I needed anything, and then left.”
“I guess that’s better than a sharp stick in the eye,” Abby muttered. It was foolish to think that all of the issues between Alannah and Andrew would be resolved in one minute. But at least he was there for her when she needed him.
“Alannah, if you’re well enough, we’ve a sorely wounded man who needs tending.” Ewan spoke gruffly, but Abby knew he was relieved to see that she was all right.
“Aye, of course.” She fetched her basket and they headed for the door. “Let me saddle Epona.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” sputtered Ewan. “You’re hurt and you’ll ride with me. Ian, you and Abby should try to get some rest now.”
Alannah’s nod of agreement told Abby that she must have been feeling like crap. Alannah never gave in to any of Ewan’s demands without an argument. Abby fetched clean clothes and they made their way back to the village.
****
Once Ian was satisfied that Angus was in Alannah’s capable hands, he and Abby went to his borrowed cottage.
Abby took off her filthy clothes and pulled on a clean underdress. “God, I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
“That sounds like a plan to me,” Ian replied. His hands went to his belt, and he nearly choked as he caught sight of himself.
He was covered in blood. The front of his shirt had stiffened in patches as the blood dried, and his hands and arms looked as though he’d been butchering an animal. His stomach lurched.
“I’m going to wash up. I’ll be right back.”
Without waiting for Abby’s reply, Ian bolted outside, barely making it around the back of the cottage before he fell to his knees and vomited. He retched until there was nothing left in his stomach, and then he continued to heave painfully as the full horror of what he had done came crashing down upon him.
His whole body aching, he finally got to his feet and staggered
to the stream to wash up. The blood wasn’t coming off fast enough, and he stripped off his clothes, wading directly into the frigid water. He scooped up handfuls of sand, using it to scrub the blood from his hands, arms, and chest. He continued to scrub long after the blood was gone, until his skin felt raw. Exhausted in body and spirit, his bloodstained plaid around his hips, he trudged back to the cottage. Abby was sound asleep in the narrow bed.
He gazed down at her precious face, so peaceful in slumber, and his self-doubt began to slip away. He’d done what he’d had to do to save her life. And he’d do it again in a heartbeat. But he would never erase it from his soul. He lifted Abby’s prone body and laid her on the pallet by the hearth. He sank down behind her and pulled her close, finally giving in to his exhaustion.
CHAPTER 24
He could think of nothing but getting to Abby. He swung his sword from side to side, barely noticing if he hit anyone, his eyes staring straight ahead to where Abby huddled on the ground. Was she hurt? He would kill them if they’d hurt her! As if she heard his thoughts, she raised her head, her whole face lighting up in a smile as she caught sight of him. She got to her feet and started towards him.
There was a flash of light behind her. It was the sunlight glinting off steel, a sight he’d seen many times before. “No, Abby! Get down!” But he was too late. Her brow furrowed with confusion, she swung around to see what he was staring at.
He watched in horror as the gray-haired man ran up behind Abby, metal flashing as his sword came down. He heard her scream in shocked agony as steel met soft flesh, saw the spray of blood shoot into the air, watched her lithe body crumple to the ground.
He heard an inhuman shriek that he only dimly realized was coming from his own throat. He felt powerful muscles gather beneath him as Jack launched his huge body into the air, sailing over Abby’s prone body. As the horse’s front hoofs touched the ground on the other side of her, he swung his sword in a downward arc, feeling the impact all the way up the length of his arms as steel struck flesh.
He threw himself out of the saddle and strode over to the man kneeling on the ground, his hands feebly clutching at the vibrating sword sticking out of his chest. He grasped the hilt and yanked backward, blood splashing on him as he freed his sword.
“You killed her!” he screamed, swinging the sword like a baseball slugger trying to hit a sinking fastball. There was a thud and a gurgle as his sword struck flesh once more. He kept swinging, his eyes blinded by blood that he didn’t bother to wipe away, the metallic taste coating his tongue.
Only when his sword fell from limp, trembling hands did he stop slashing at the man. He kicked aside the bloody, broken body and sank to his knees on the blood-stained ground. He finally turned his reluctant gaze to where his Abby lay in a pool of red.
“NO!” he wailed, crawling through blood and gore to reach her. With sticky, shaking fingers, he pushed tangled hair out of the way and gazed down into her sightless eyes, already beginning to cloud over.
“No, Abby!” he sobbed, cradling her limp body in his aching arms. “No!”
****
“No, Abby! No!”
Abby jolted awake as Ian’s agonized scream shattered the silence of the cottage. His arm was clamped around her waist; his naked body was curled against her back, and his whole body was shaking. She extricated herself from the vise-like hold he had on her and turned to look at him.
His eyes moved rapidly beneath closed lids, tears running down his face. His hair was plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat, and his body was wracked with sobs. When she moved away from him, he wrapped his arms around himself and curled into fetal position as though trying to get warm.
“Ian?” she whispered hesitantly, not wanting to startle him. “Ian, wake up!” No response. She gently pushed him onto his back.
“Abby, no!” he shouted, his whole body thrashing. “Oh God, so much blood! I just wanted to keep her safe! I didn’t mean it!”
Her eyes filled with tears. He was reliving the fight in his sleep, and she had no idea how to free him from the throes of his nightmare. She kept calling his name and shaking his shoulder, but he did not wake. His body still shivered violently.
Abby reached for the furs that he’d kicked away and covered his naked body with them. She crawled in with him and draped herself over him. Maybe the combination of the furs and her body heat would ease his chills.
“Shh, Ian, it’s all right.” She stroked his damp hair back from his face and pressed her mouth to his cheek. She continued to murmur soothing words as she stroked his hair. After awhile, it seemed to work; his skin felt warmer to the touch and he stopped struggling.
“Abby?”
“I’m here, my love. It’s all right. Just sleep now.”
He wrapped his arms around her and snuggled her against him. His breath was slow and steady, and she knew he had finally relaxed. As she drifted to sleep in his arms once more, she sent up a prayer that Angus would live. If he didn’t, Ian might never recover from the guilt.
****
Ian awakened to a pounding headache and the woman he loved sprawled atop him. He remembered being trapped in a horrific nightmare in which he relived the swordfight with Angus, over and over again. He kept seeing himself plunge his sword into the other man, gouts of blood spurting up to drench him from head to toe. Each time Angus screamed in agony, his dream self yanked the sword from his flesh, only to plunge it back in again as Abby lay in a pool of blood on the ground, her eyes gazing sightlessly at the sky. It was a never-ending cycle of gore and death, and he hadn’t been able to fight his way free.
He had a vague image of being held by Abby as she soothed him with her gentle voice and her fingers in his hair. He’d finally pulled free of the nightmare, tumbling into a deep and dreamless sleep.
“Tha gaol agam ort, Abby,” he whispered.
“I love you too, Ian,” she replied.
He looked down in surprise to see her gazing at him, her blue-gray eyes full of love. He hadn’t realized she was awake.
He touched her smooth cheek. “God, Abby, I almost lost you!”
She cupped his face in her hands. “But you didn’t. I’m here, Ian, and we’re both alive.”
She kissed him then, her lips drinking from his, her body burrowing into him. That simple act of love stoked a fire within him, and he tightened his arms around her, rolling her beneath him. He kissed her with all the joy and relief and love and fear within him, burying his hands in her hair as he feasted upon her lips.
She shifted beneath him, bending her knees so he could settle in the cradle of her thighs. He ground his body against hers, moaning against her mouth as the soft linen of her nightgown glided along his aching flesh. He rolled his hips, trying to get even closer to her. She clutched him, her fingernails digging into his biceps as her head fell back.
He had to have her, had to lose himself in her, had to forget, even for just a brief moment, the trauma they’d been through. He looked into her beautiful eyes, which were watching him expectantly. “I need you, Abby—need you now.”
“I need you, too, Ian. Please!”
He dragged her gown over her head, his eyes roving over her body.
“Touch me, Ian.” She took his hand and brought it to her breast. He cupped the weight of it in his hand and dipped his head, lifting her to his lips. He turned his attention to her other breast, his hands tracing her ribs as she held him to her.
He returned to her mouth, sweeping his tongue inside as his hand trailed down her belly to her center. She was ready for him, her inner muscles greedily gripping his fingers as they entered her. The intensity of her desire for him sent an answering jolt through his own body, and he began throbbing in earnest, his hips thrusting against her, his body seeking hers.
She raised her shoulders off the pallet and reached down, closing her hand around him. His whole body shivered at the touch of her hand on his aching flesh. She stared at him with eyes nearly black with desire, her hand moving
up and down on him.
“Abby!” he ground out between clenched teeth.
“Now, Ian!”
He withdrew his fingers from her clutching body and looked down in fascination as she guided him into her, sighing with relief as they finally joined together.
Her legs locked around his hips as he began to move within her, slowly at first, and then instinct took over and he moved faster and faster, his hands cupping her bottom, her arms around his neck. Their lips met in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, their tongues dancing as their bodies surged together.
The pressure rose within him, and he pressed her body down into the furs, thrusting hard against her. When he felt her body begin to pulse around him, he tore his mouth from hers. “Look at me, Abby!” he cried.
Her eyes flew open, and he gazed into their desire-glazed depths as he surged against her one last time, pouring himself into her.
When he got some of his breath back, Ian tried to move his weight off of Abby. Her legs remained locked around his hips and her arms tightened around his shoulders, preventing him from moving.
“No, stay there for awhile, Ian. You’re not hurting me.”
He laid his head against her breast, listening to the comforting sound of her heartbeat.
Her hands stroked his damp hair. “I love you, Ian. And no matter what happens with Angus, I know you did what you had to do to save me. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind about that. Please remember that, okay?”
He couldn’t let himself be convinced—couldn’t let himself off the hook that easily. But he knew she needed to think that her words had reassured him.
“Aye, love, I’ll remember,” he murmured. He shifted to the side just enough so that he wasn’t fully on top of her, and wrapped his arms around her as sleep claimed him.