by Fiona Faris
Tòmas nodded, yanking the wide leather belt from his jeans with a snap and drawing it back. "Time to get serious, lads."
He lashed outward with the belt, buckle first, and Georgiana felt the lightning strike between the shoulder blades.
Nothing had prepared Georgiana for the bolt of pain that exploded across her flesh, sending shockwaves through her body.
Too stunned to do more than gasp before the next blow whistled home, she pressed her forehead into the splintery wood, clenching her eyes shut. The belt struck at a slightly lower point, and the pain of it made the first strike seem a gentle caress by comparison. The buckle tore across the skin of her bleeding shoulders, digging into the raw flesh like the fangs of a snake.
She hung helplessly, half-strangled, waiting for the next strike, thinking she knew what to expect now. But when this one fell it seared like acid. She couldn't stop the cry as she was struck again, the fiery blast of the leather sticking to her skin before it was ripped loose. She imagined long strips of flesh tearing away with each strike.
Encouraging voices spurred her torturer on with renewed enthusiasm.
After the sixth blow, she screamed. Knees buckling she slumped limply from the rope around her throat, effectively choking herself.
The abrupt shift of weight jerked the post free from its mooring, sending it and Georgiana crashing to the floor.
Tòmas stumbled, going to his knees as he tried to catch himself in mid-swing, feeling the entire floor move as the building literally shifted around them.
"Son of a Banshee!"
Before anyone could draw breath, the narrow balcony above them, deprived of its support, collapsed into a broken 'V', which in turn brought the timbers down from the weakened roof, crashing to the floor in an explosion of noise and dust and yells of surprise.
Georgiana, still tethered to the post, could do no more than try to duck her head from the debris raining down on her, writhing weakly under the weight of the wood on top of her.
Sweeney looked around wildly as the building creaked alarmingly. "Tòmas, we need to get out of here, this whole place is coming down!"
More wood crashed down around them in a screech of destruction. It was as if the old cottage had tolerated as many insults to its former owner as it could and was destroying itself to end it.
"A’hm nae done wi’ her yet!" Tòmas yelled over the other noise, too far gone to give a damn.
"Tòmas, for Christ's sake!" Sweeney moved forward to stop Tòmas, blinded by dust and wary of the structure falling around him. His foot caught on something soft, and he went sprawling. His hands sank into wet warmth, and he found himself buried to the forearms in Lachie's crushed chest, the broken end of a broken ceiling beam having struck the other man dead instantly and squashed his rib cage like an egg.
Lachie's shocked eyes stared blindly at Sweeney; blood from the impact splattered everywhere Sweeney could see, dust already settling into the scarlet mess.
"Flaming hell!" Sweeney yelled in horror, desperately trying to get away from the carnage that had been his friend, sinking in, even more, hands scrabbling through bone, blood, and tissue as he tried to push himself free.
Dragging himself through the mess, he managed to get to his feet and staggered forward, grabbing Tòmas's arm. "Lachie's deid, Tòmas! It's over! We got to get oot o’ here!"
Tòmas shoved Sweeney away, eyes wild. "Not 'til I get wha’ I came for!" Tòmas roared, still swinging the belt at Georgiana, striking flesh where he could find it and debris when he couldn't, totally out of control.
The building lurched again as more of the roof supports slipped, the groan of tearing wood and nails deafening as another timber crashed to the floor.
"Ye freaking hellspawn!” Sweeney gave Tòmas one last shove that threw the larger man off-balance, and he tumbled backward into the fallen roof beams. "Then dae it!"
Jerking his pistol, Sweeney aimed it at Georgiana's head, and a shot rang out.
As he stood there, arm still outstretched, a puzzled look crossed Sweeney's face.
Eyes rolling slightly to the side, he took in Ethan's tall form, feet braced apart, dust clouds like smoke curling around him, the fires of hell burning in his eyes. Ethan's pistol was still pointed at Sweeney, the end of the barrel smoking from the bullet he had just fired.
The one that had torn through Sweeny’s throat.
Sweeney choked and raised his free hand to stem the scarlet flood, now pouring down his shirtfront. The corner of his mouth curled up as he met Ethan's cold eyes. His gun was still pointed at Georgiana, but the second bullet Ethan fired tore off the top of Sweeney's head before his finger could do more than twitch on the trigger.
The gun slipped from Sweeney's fingers and thudded to the floor. He joined it a second later.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ethan dismissed Sweeney as dead, the look of surprise still on his face as he crumbled to the ground, choking on his own blood.
Rushing to where Georgiana lay unmoving amid the broken beams. Ethan went to his knees and began to pull the wreckage away as carefully and quickly as he could, sickened by the bloody, torn skin revealed to him. Every movement caused his head to ache, hampering his ability to get to Georgiana.
"Georgiana...Georgiana, it's me...wake for me, mo chridhe..." Ethan barely glanced up as another pair of hands joined his, dragging off the heavy support post lying across Georgiana's leg.
Fergus stood over them as the doctor ran his hands quickly down Georgiana's legs looking for apparent breaks. He was unable to avoid the sight of Sweeney's body jerking in the last throes of death. He’d been indigent for a long time, moving around before going to sea, even serving a stint in France, had been to war, seen death. The look on Ethan's face as he raised his pistol and fired equaled any of those experiences.
"My God..." Fergus murmured as he got a good look at Georgiana's battered body, seeing the bloody ropes as Ethan pulled Georgiana's wrists out, swearing.
Ethan jerked a knife from his pocket and gently cut the bindings away. Georgiana groaned and shifted slightly, lids fluttering, as Ethan pulled the rough hemp from her skin. Blood welled sluggishly and began to run in slow lines down Georgiana's arms, staining the already dirty sleeves of her gown.
More wood crashed to the floor behind them, and the building began to shift and screech in earnest.
"The cottage is coming down, Ethan. We need to get oot o’ here!" Fergus grabbed Ethan's arm to get his attention.
Ethan tore his eyes away from Georgiana and actually looked around as more boards from the ceiling slid free. "Aye ye're right..." he leaned down to lift Georgiana but felt Fergus's hands on him again.
"Ethan, ye canna carry her. Ye'll drop her with how unsteady ye are. Let me – or at least the doctor – do it." Fergus spoke in a reasonable voice, "Let us help ye."
He suspected Ethan's first response was going to be a resounding no, but Ethan only hesitated a second before nodding.
Georgiana moaned again, lost between unconsciousness and awareness, as they gently raised her upper body, trying to take care of her lacerated back, now covered with dirt and bits of wood as well as blood. Fergus was hard-pressed to find anywhere to put his hands that wasn't cut or bruised. They each put an arm around Georgiana's waist and under each leg and lifted her from the ground, moving quickly, but with caution as more and more debris began to rain down.
Ethan gritted his teeth against his own pain, desperate to get Georgiana away from this place.
They had barely made it to the door when the rafters suddenly cracked inward with a crackling snap as the building shifted position. Splinters showered them as they hunched over Georgiana to protect her from the rain of wood.
Once outside and clear of the collapsing building, they stopped. Ethan tore off his shirt and spread it on the dirt to protect Georgiana as they lowered her to the ground, laying her carefully on her side.
The coming of dusk brought cooler air that chilled Ethan's bare skin, but he igno
red it, kneeling next to Georgiana.
"Doctor," Ethan said shortly. "Would ye look her over? What can ye dae for her before we go?"
The doctor knelt down beside them, his hands reaching for Georgiana, even though Ethan was loathe to let her go. He did it anyway, albeit reluctantly.
A scream of rending wood and metal rose behind him, and he turned to see his former home literally twist into itself, collapsing in a vast cloud of dust and debris.
Ethan threw himself over Georgiana's prone form as the building fell, feeling dirt and small fragments of wood and hay pelting his back.
"Wh...what ha..happened..." Georgiana's voice, hoarse and gravelly, growled, while her arm pushed weakly against Ethan's chest.
"Georgiana!" Ethan exclaimed, rising up with a snap, "Oh my, God, Georgiana!"
She twisted her head awkwardly to see behind her, every movement burning like fire across her shoulders. Her pain-glazed eyes widened in shock at the sight of Ethan, whole and alive.
"Ethan? Ethan?!" Coughing the words through parched vocal chords. Struggling to hold herself up on one elbow, she reached out and caught Ethan's arm with a shaking hand. "You're not dead..." she croaked, disbelief evident in her face and the grip of her hand.
"No. God, no, Georgiana. I'm alive and well. ‘Tis ye I am worrit for." Ethan rushed to reassure Georgiana that he was very much alive, clasping his hand over hers.
Georgiana's body couldn't keep up the pretense, and she sagged backward, dizzy and confused. Ethan caught her before she hit the ground again. Georgiana hissed and tried to twist away as Ethan's hands dragged over her back.
"They said...said you were...dead!" Georgiana repeated, grimacing as Ethan tried to keep her from rolling onto her back while the doctor rubbed some ointment into it.
"God...you’re alright...are you alright?" Her hand fumbled against Ethan's arm again, fingers clutching. "...Said they...killed you..." Georgiana's voice was fading, her throat drying out. Her eyes clearly expressed what she wanted to say, fixing on the bandage on Ethan's head.
"I'm weel, I'm fine. It was a flesh wound. It's nothing. Dinna fash." Ethan repeated, still seeing the doubt in Georgiana's eyes. "Lay still. We'll get ye some water and somewhere safe..." Ethan caught his breath, forcing back his emotions as he thought about what would have happened if they arrived even a few minutes later, once more, seeing the man raising a pistol to Georgiana's head...
"You're well..." Georgiana murmured, her hand patting softly on Ethan's arm.
"Lay still..." Ethan said, his voice suddenly thick, reaching out to brush bits of wood out of her hair.
“Ye'll be a’ right...just need to get ye cleaned up and...." Looking Georgiana over, he glanced at the doctor, confirming that what was needed done looked like it was going to be long, messy, and unpleasant. He daren’t even think about the baby at this time.
Georgiana's attempted to swallow, her throat working painfully, her eyes fluttering again. Weakly, she knocked away Ethan's hand.
"I’m fine," she whispered.
The doctor leaned back on his haunches, having done all he could for the moment.
Ethan looked up in relief as Fergus came into sight, leading the horses. He had with him their bottles of water, the doctor’s bag, and blankets. Hustling over, he knelt down.
Unable to stop herself, Georgiana tried to pull away as she saw his silhouette loom over her, looking ominous, but her arms wouldn't obey, so she sagged against Ethan's chest.
"It's alright, Georgiana! It’s only Fergus; he's brought the horses," Ethan hurried to explain, feeling Georgiana stiffen as Fergus came close. "I couldna have found ye sae quick without him; let him help." Ethan gestured for one of the bottles of water Fergus clasped. "Here, sit up some. Ye need water..."
Georgiana jerked and grabbed madly for the bottle in Ethan's hands as Ethan unscrewed the cap and helped Georgiana hold it as she took several desperate swallows, choking in her effort to get moisture inside her parched body.
"Slow down!" Ethan cautioned, taking the bottle away as Georgiana coughed. "Ye'll make yerself sick. How does it look?" he added to the doctor after his examination.
"We need tae get back to the fortress soon, but for noo, the nearest inn will dae. It's gettin' too dark. I canna see what ah'm doing, and we need more than we have here. Ah'm going tae pour some alcohol over her back and try to wash some of this dirt off and prevent it getting infected." In a lower voice, he added. "It's going tae hurt-"
Georgiana leaned against Ethan, breathing harshly. “Tarry for a minute, Georgiana," Ethan said gently in Georgiana's ear, gripping Georgiana's upper arms tightly, giving the doctor a terse nod.
He tipped the bottle over Georgiana's ripped skin, determinedly getting as much of her back as he could.
Georgiana's yell of shocked surprise echoed through the air, and she literally tried to crawl over Ethan to get away from the burning sensation on her back.
Ethan held tight and steady, talking fast and soft against Georgiana's head even though her sudden movement felt like she'd put a knee into Ethan’s side. Biting back a cry of his own, he hung on until Georgiana's body slowed its shuddering and the wounded-animal sounds she was making eased. The fingers digging into Ethan's arms gradually released their grip but continued to tremble.
"Jesus..." Georgiana wheezed weakly. “W-warn me first...next time..."
"Th’ horse's right o’er there." Ethan handed Georgiana the water bottle once more, her hands white as she gulped the remaining water thirstily.
"We'll be someplace safe in a few minutes, and we can take care of your injuries and get ye some food."
"Food?" Georgiana said eagerly, her head snapping up, pain surmounted by a greater need. She knew she'd gone without food for a lot longer than was safe for the baby, could feel how skeletal her hands were compared to before her body had been pushed beyond its limits of endurance. But somehow she knew that the baby was alright. She was so light-headed and weak… however, even thirst wasn't as important as getting something, anything, into her stomach.
"I 'm sure I have some dry meat in my saddlebag and some stale bread," Ethan said. "Can ye walk?"
"Yes..." Georgiana said instantly.
She flinched and gasped as she felt something settle on the raw flesh of her back. There didn't seem to be an inch of her body, inside or out, that didn't hurt, but her back felt like the lashes from the belt had torn clean through to her spine and ribs.
"I'm sorry," the doctor said, "It's a towel, just to protect your back. You've got some serious lacerations there. As soon as we can find shelter for the night, I can clean it more thoroughly."
It was a small struggle, but they managed to get Georgiana onto her feet and kept her moving by bracing one hand under her forearms while gripping her upper arms.
Even just moving the few feet to the horse, Georgiana’s legs threatened to buckle, and she swayed dizzily.
"Still doing well?" Ethan asked as they deposited Georgiana in front of Ethan’s horse.
"No," Georgiana said tightly, shaking visibly. "Let's just go-" With an incredible effort, she managed to hang on long enough for Ethan to get onto the horse behind her, carefully leaving space between them for her back to remain untouched.
She nestled her head into his shoulder, her back arched, eyes closed, inhaling as deeply as she could. The lingering warmth of Ethan's hand on the back of her head, the familiar scent of oiled leather, the solid feel and sounds of the horse urged into a gentle canter, and Ethan taking her away from the remains of the cottage worked together to make her feel safe.
She felt the horse slow slightly, but before she could say anything, Ethan's hand reached around and held out a length of dried meat.
"It was in my saddlebag," Ethan said, shooting Georgiana a quick smile. "Sorry it isna more, but we'll be at the inn soon, and ye can have anything ye want."
Georgiana's eyes widened, and she took the meat, cramming half of it in her mouth, eyes rolling up and closing in pure ecstasy as
she chewed the hardy protein.
Another bite and the meat was gone. Ignoring the jerks and jolts as the horse maneuvered its way down the pot-holed road, secure at last, Georgiana's eyes closed in exhaustion before they'd gone a mile.
They had barely ridden a mile before Ethan looked up to see horses approaching. He paused, eyes narrowed as he recognized his father. Holding Georgiana tight with one hand, he drew his sword with the other. His father raised a hand in a sign of peace, but Ethan kept a firm grip on his sword. After all, this man’s son had just tried to kill his wife.
“We saw the cloud o’ dust and wanted to investigate,” Barclays said as they came to a stop a few meters away.