True to the Highlander(98)

“You’re wounded,” she whispered.

“Only a scratch.”

“I saw more than a scratch.” She fought the building hysteria and swallowed the urge to laugh. In shock, dazed, she stared at her empty hands and stopped. “My bow…I…I…dropped it.”

“We’ll have a new one made.”

Malcolm tried to get her moving again. She planted her feet. “I want that one. I want my bow.” She knew she was being unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it.

“God’s blood, woman.” He rubbed his face. “Angus,” he called over his shoulder. “Retrieve my wife’s bow.”

In mere seconds, Angus returned with her bow unstrung. Instead of handing it to her, he tucked it into her quiver and gently wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. “Oh. Thank you, Angus. I forgot all about my cloak.” She ran the thick fabric through her fingers. Her thinking had grown disjointed, as if her head had been stuffed with wool, and all she could think were fuzzy thoughts.

“Now may we proceed?” Malcolm’s tone held an edge of impatience—and anger.

“Of course.” She straightened her spine and took a step. Her legs buckled, and she sank to the floor. Malcolm scooped her up. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his stiff neck. “I’m sorry. I…can’t seem to…walk.”

Once out of the keep, they headed for the small gate where she, Liam and Galen had entered hours ago. Darkness had fallen, and they made no effort to hide their movements as they joined the rest of their party waiting to depart on the other side.

As soon as Malcolm set her feet on the ground, a petite woman hurled herself at her, throwing her arms around her shoulders. Alethia could feel Mairen’s body tremble, and her tears dampened her tunic where they fell onto her shoulder.

“Thank you. Oh, thank you,” Mairen murmured.

“You’re welcome,” Alethia whispered, patting her back.

Liam peeled her away. “We must take our leave.” He helped Mairen to mount Alethia’s mare.

She blinked, confused. “What am I—”

“You will ride with me,” Malcolm snapped, reining his horse up beside her. Robley lifted her from behind into her husband’s waiting arms. Malcolm signed his command, and the party departed with haste.

They were well on their way when she finally risked focusing on Malcolm. His emotions alternated with a rapidity that made her dizzy. Fury, relief, frustration, concern—then back to fury. Her nerves, frayed beyond repair, couldn’t take much more.

“You placed yourself in danger,” Malcolm snarled into her ear.

“You’re welcome,” she snarled back.

He gave her a shake. “You disobeyed me again.”

“Ha! You never specifically ordered me not to follow, because I knew better than to ask.”

“You could have died.”

“I know.” She scowled at him over her shoulder. “I also know you would have died for certain if I hadn’t been there. I saw the whole thing happen in my visions.”

“Damnation, woman. Do you think you are the only one among us who can draw a bow and shoot an arrow? You had only to tell me what was to be, and I would have put a man where you stood.”

“No.” She shook her head. “This is what I was sent here to do. I know you don’t understand, but I had to be the one to save you. If it had been anyone else…” Her voice broke. “I couldn’t leave it to chance.”

Twisting around to face him, she pleaded, “Look, I know how much you enjoy giving me an ear beating. But can we let it go until tomorrow? I have bigger things to worry about, and saving your life has exhausted me.” If she hadn’t been so worn out, she might have been amused by Malcolm’s stunned expression. Instead, she sank back against his chest and closed her eyes. Several moments of blissful silence ensued.

“What, pray tell, do you have to worry about now?”

“Ouch.” His words, and the tone he used, stung. She didn’t have the energy for this. A painful lump formed in her throat.

“Tell me.” He gave her another little shake.

“Giselle said I had hidden talents. Hence the visions. She said my task was to right a wrong. Hence the Comyn laird’s evil plot to do you all in. That’s definitely a wrong. I have completed my task, and now Giselle will come for me. She’ll send me back where I came from, and you won’t be able to stop her.” Her voice broke. “No one will be able to stop her.”

Shutting her mouth tight, she fumed. She had saved his life, and it rankled him. Instead of thanking her, he scolded and lectured. Her actions had been a blow to his masculinity, and it was obvious he couldn’t see beyond his wounded ego. Stupid, stupid man and his stupid fifteenth-century male pride.