by Vella, Wendy
“Come and help me turn him, Dev, I want to check if the bullet has exited his body. If not, I will need to extract it.” They all heaved a sigh of relief when they saw the exit wound.
“We still need to clean and stitch it,” Essie muttered. “Let’s get this done before he wakes. Kate, get the salve and bandages.”
“I seem to remember something like this occurring when first we met, my love,” Max said, lowering Rory gently back to the table.
Kate watched as he looked at his brother; the hand he lifted to touch his head was gentle. How long had it been since they’d seen each other?
“When first I met Max, he’d been shot in the side, and he managed to ride to Oak’s Knoll.”
“Where you saved me.”
“Sinclairs save Ravens,” Essie said, looking grim as she lined her instruments up on the small table she’d pulled closer to the bed.
“I helped extract the bullet from you that day, and it is not a memory I am fond of,” Cam added. “It was like eeling in the dark.”
“Kate, mop up the blood. Max, watch over your brother, I need to know he is breathing easy or if he wakes. Cam, hand me the instruments as, like you said, you’ve done this before. Dev?”
“Here, love.”
“Bring more blankets.”
Dev was soon back, and between them they tucked what he carried around Rory. Bertie brought in heated bricks, which were wrapped and placed around Rory’s body.
“We must get him warm; the cold is just as dangerous to him at the moment,” Essie said.
Kate watched the eldest Sinclair move to stand at his sister’s back. He touched her neck, cupping a large hand around it. Wolf moved to Rory’s feet and touched them, and Kate felt the frisson of power move through her.
Kate had known she was different, along with Wolf and Alice, from a young age, but until she met her cousins, she’d not really understood her gift. Their senses were magnified. Kate and Essie could taste and pick out any ingredient in food, Cam could smell things no one else could. Dev and Wolf could see further and in the dark, and Eden and Alice could hear better than anyone else. There was more to their senses than this, and the younger siblings also had the gifts. Then there was Lilly, Dev’s wife, who could heal with her hands. She was of both Raven and Sinclair blood. One thing Kate had come to realize was that their senses were stronger when together and connected, skin-to-skin—as they were now.
“I shall call for Lilly if need be,” Dev said as he watched Essie poke about in the wound to ensure no bullet fragments remained.
“Let’s get him through this first.”
Max gagged, but Kate alternated between watching the procedure and Rory. Thus far he’d remained unconscious. The Sinclair brothers and Wolf just watched and did as Essie asked.
“The bullet does not appear to have damaged any bones, but there is still the possibility of infection.”
“He will live,” Max vowed. “I have not found him to lose him again. Even if he wishes me to meet my maker.”
When Essie had finished and checked Rory had no other injuries, they all helped move him to Dev’s old bed. Once there, the bricks were placed around him once more, and the blankets. A fire roared, and the room was toasty.
“He is warming. But we must get this tea into him.”
Max and Dev raised him slightly, and Kate spooned the tea down his throat. Essie helped until he’d taken enough to satisfy her. Rory did not even stir.
“That is all we can do for now,” she said.
Max took the first shift of sitting with his brother as the others went to take tea. Kate was reluctant to leave the man who would even now be dead had she not found him.
Something about him touched her.
Sinclairs marry Ravens.
Chapter Five
Rory woke to a searing pain in his shoulder, but the chill that’d he’d believed would be with him forever had gone. He was warm, blissfully so. His thoughts went to Kate. Where was she?
Max.
He’d seen his brother. Older, yes—ten years tended to age a person—but definitely him. He would know those eyes and his build anywhere. He’d been big as a young man; now he was bigger.
Gingerly he pushed himself upright. Darkness had fallen, but a fire in the hearth and lamp on a small table lit the room enough so he could see. He was in someone’s bedroom but could not make out any personal details. A painting of the rugged shoreline he’d witnessed firsthand hung on the walls, and a rocking chair held a knitted pillow. Looking to the bedside table, he saw it held water. He was suddenly parched.
The door opened, and he braced himself for whoever entered. He’d be polite and then he’d leave, even if it was him. The brother he’d once worshipped.
It was her, Kate, the woman who had saved his life. The angel with the forest-green eyes and beautiful face. She slipped into the room quietly, as yet unaware he was awake. Lying in the dark, he watched as she went to the fire and added another log. She then came to his side and touched his forehead.
“How do you feel?”
“Besides the fire burning in my shoulder, I am well.”
“And warm?”
“And warm, thank you.”
Her palm was cool and soft. Soothing and disturbing at the same time.
Her hair was in a long braid now, hanging over a slender shoulder. She wore a shawl, thick and the color of ash, around her shoulders. He wanted to reach for her, hold her close. It was the injury, of course, that and seeing his brother again. Rory needed no one.
“Thank you for saving my life.”
“You’ve already thanked me for finding you,” she said, pulling the blankets up his body and tucking them around his waist, as if he were a child. “Essie will check on you soon. But I have something for the pain and to help you sleep.”
“I don’t need to sleep; I need to leave.”
“As you will when you are healed.” Her fingers pushed aside the nightshirt someone had put him in and studied the bandage. He felt her touch around the edges of the injury, the sensation traveling through him.
“So far there is no fever or inflammation.”
“I heal well.”
She replaced the shirt, then did up his buttons, and he let her. Wanting her touch, which was not like Rory. He didn’t seek out anyone, and especially not for comfort. It was because she’d saved him and because he was ill. He could find no other reason for the way his heart thudded at her nearness.
“Have there been many illnesses in your life then, Rory?”
“Illnesses, no—injuries. I’ve been stabbed, burned, and locked in chains. Each time I’ve healed quickly.” He’d said the words to shock her, wanting her to back away from him. Instead she patted his hand where it lay beside him on the bed.
“I’m glad you healed from those things. And sorry they happened to you.”
“I deserved them.” He persisted in darkening his name, wanting those eyes to widen in horror.
“I’m sure you didn’t, not all of them anyway.”
“Are you one of those people who goes through life seeing the good in everyone, Kate?” His voice sounded rough and unused.
Her laugh was real and loud. It had him wanting to smile; instead he frowned.
“Hardly that, but I know when there is good in someone, and you have good in you, Rory.”
She didn’t ask about Max, and for that he was grateful, as he had no idea how to begin to explain the seething mess that was his family, nor did he want to. What he wanted was to get on a horse and far away from here.
“Don’t think I follow the model of your sweet-tempered noblemen, Kate, because the truth is far from it. I will do what is necessary to survive. Have done so.”
“I’m sure you do. Are you hungry?”
“I am always hungry, but less so at the moment.”
“Excuse me while I get someone to bring you food then.”
He grabbed her hand, not wanting her to leave.
“What is it
?”
“You have to help me leave here, Kate.” He couldn’t do it alone, he knew that. But he could if she helped him. There must be a stagecoach leaving from around here soon surely? If he could just get to Dover, he could book passage back to France.
“I can’t do that.” She turned back to face him. “It is cold and unforgiving out there for anyone, but for someone who has the injury you have, it would be foolish indeed to contemplate.”
“I am an adult; if I choose to leave then I will.” His words had come out curt, but her expression did not change. It was open and honest as she looked down at him. “If you will not help me, then I will leave on my own.”
“That would be a shame, as you have just found your brother.”
“He is nothing to me.”
“Max is one of the best men I know.”
“I don’t want to speak of him.” He sounded like a petulant child but could not stop himself. His brother was an ugly, raw wound inside him that had never closed. Just thinking about the man made him irrational, but now he was here in this house somewhere. The thought filled him with panic.
“It is Christmastime, a time to spend with family—”
“He is no family of mine, and while you may live a cosseted life and believe in fairy tales and happily ever afters, I assure you I do not.”
“I don’t believe in fairy tales.” Her words were calm, and she still stood at his side, her hand on his. Rory fought the urge to grip her fingers, slide them between his, and hold her there.
What the hell was the matter with him?
“I believe in family, and I believe that we all need someone.”
“I don’t,” he snapped.
“But you—”
He grabbed her wrist and tugged her onto his body, relishing the feel of her soft weight pressed to his. Their eyes were now inches apart.
“I don’t need anyone, Kate, and sweet little girls like you need to stay away from men like me.” He’d said the words to frighten her; instead, she leaned forward, closing the small distance between them, and pressed her lips to his.
It was nothing more than a brush of lips, a comforting gesture, but it had the opposite effect on Rory. A surge of need gripped him and had him lifting a hand and wrapping it around her neck to hold her lips to his. She didn’t try to pull away as he took her mouth in a fierce kiss. It was heaven and hell. He wanted her, wanted to consume her, ravish her, and slake his lust inside her. From just a kiss, the touch of her lips to his, he was lost. How was this possible? Rory never lost control, but he could feel it creeping away from him, and that had him pushing her away.
“Why did you kiss me?”
“I am not myself.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“That’s not true.” She didn’t pull away, instead bracing a hand on his chest.
“You are a beautiful woman, what man can resist that?” He tried to sound offhand. “Even one with a bullet in his shoulder.”
“I see.” She stepped away from him. The hand she lifted to push her braid over a shoulder trembled, which made him realize it was not just he who had been affected by that kiss.
“I am not fit for the likes of an innocent such as you. Sweet little Kate. Cosseted and cherished by her family,” he added. “Go away and do not return, or the big bad wolf will part your legs and take you.”
He’d wanted to shock her—anything to keep her away, stop this madness he felt when she was near from making him do something he’d regret.
“You c-could not manage the act in your condition.”
She raised her chin, but Rory saw her bravery was false. He had to admire her for trying.
“I could have you in any condition, but I don’t dally with pampered innocents. Now leave me.”
“Very well, I will go, but I shall say one thing before I do.”
“I want to hear nothing you say.” He tried to look bored.
“I’m sure you are a good man, Rory Huntington, and I am not scared that you will hurt me, nor that you want to push me away with vulgar words.”
He turned onto his side, away from her, and did not roll back until he heard the door close. When it opened again minutes later, his visitor was less welcome.
“Go away.”
“After you have taken the tea. Can you sit up?”
Max moved to his bedside to look down at him. The breath hissed from Rory’s throat as he eased himself upright.
“I can help.”
“I don’t want anything from you.” He held out a hand and took the cup.
His brother had changed from the young angry man who had left France many years before. The hard edges of his face had eased and softened. Clearly Max had moved on from the rough, unforgiving life he’d once lived. Moved on from them, him and Maddie, their sister.
Rory had watched him sail away all those years ago and hated the tears he’d shed. Max had turned his back on family and left them with a woman who cared nothing for them but what they could gain her.
His brother was bigger, and there was an assured strength about him now that had not been there before. A calmness too.
“My wife told me you must drink it all.”
The words shocked him. Rory had believed that like him, Max would never marry. Never want what others had. He let none of that emotion show on his face.
“How does the injury feel? Kate said you are not feverish, and it does not appear inflamed.”
“I will leave soon.”
“Of course, if that is your wish.”
“It is.”
Max looked steadily down at him, and Rory closed all the anger and resentment for this man deep inside him once more. Hid it all away in that dark place that harbored all his secrets.
“How is Maddie?”
“Alive.”
“And well?” Max questioned him in that same calm voice. Once, he’d yelled and been volatile; it seemed that was no longer the case.
“Married.”
That surprised him. Good, the bastard needed shocking.
“Is he a good man?”
“I would not have allowed it otherwise.”
His brother’s mouth opened, then closed again.
“Mother?”
“Alive.” He hated that woman with every fiber of his being.
“I looked for you and Maddie. I need you to know that, Rory. After I met Essie, I realized what I had left behind—”
“I don’t want to hear your lies.”
“And yet you will.”
“There is nothing you can say to me that changes how I feel about you. Now leave.”
“I left you and Maddie at an age when you needed me, I know that, but it was—”
“Be quiet!”
“Your anger is valid, Rory, but still you will listen to me.”
“I care nothing for your need to assuage your guilt. I want you to leave this room and not return.”
An ugly silence settled between them, the distance much greater than the few feet separating them.
“Very well, we will speak on it no longer, but I must know if there is danger for us, seeing as you were found bound and with a bullet hole in you. Is my family safe from harm?”
My family. The words cut through Rory with the accuracy of a sharp blade. He’d once been Max’s family.
“No, there is no danger to you or yours.” The danger was now back in France, and he would get there soon, and someone would pay dearly for what was done to him.
“You are one of mine,” Max said slowly.
Rory closed his eyes and said nothing. He knew Max looked at him, felt his eyes. You are one of mine. The words gave him more pain, when he’d vowed this man would never hurt him again.
“Will you tell me how you came to be here in Crunston Cliff, Rory? What happened to you?”
“It is of no mind. Your family is safe.”
“You are still my family, but for now I will push no more. When you are ready to tell me, I will be here. Just as one day soon you will list
en to what I have to say. I will have my answers, brother, make no mistake in that.”
“Go to hell, Max. After all, it’s where you left us.”
Chapter Six
Surprisingly, Rory slept again and guessed something in the tea he drank had contributed to that. His head felt clearer when he woke, and the ache in his shoulder had dulled but was still steady.
Looking to the closed curtains, he saw a sliver of light and realized it was morning.
Swinging his legs out of bed, he sat on the side and let his head stop spinning.
Yesterday he’d been strong; now he felt like a newborn child. He found his clothes neatly folded on a chair, slowly he made his way across to them.
Pulling on his breeches wasn’t easy with one hand, but he managed. There was no shirt, only his jacket. After forcing the tails of the nightshirt into the waistband, he contemplated his heavy coat. This was going to hurt. Picking it up, he slid his injured arm into the sleeve, biting back a moan of pain, then managed to get his other arm in. Breathless, he took a minute to rest before buttoning it with a great deal of effort to the top. Once done, he slipped his hand into the right breast pocket and felt the worn edges of wood.
It was still there.
Breathing slowly, he steadied his racing heart before pulling on his boots.
All he had to do was make it to the next village or posting house. Any accommodation, actually, where he could rest and heal away from his brother and the green-eyed angel.
Rory made for the door slowly, bracing his injured arm with his good one. Opening it, he let himself out into the hallway.
There was light here from a thick candle set on the hall table. Looking around, he saw paintings in rough wooden frames along the walls. Each was clearly done with an inexperienced hand… a child’s, Rory believed.
It was a home, he thought. A place where children would have been raised to run and be happy. A place that wrapped around a person and made them feel safe. Of course, he didn’t know that for certain, but felt it inside him. He and his sister had never lived in such a place.
Did Max have children who lived here with him? Did Rory have more nieces and nephews?
He pushed the thought aside as he took a moment to rest and wipe the sweat from his brow. The effort was taking its toll on him. Each step jarred his shoulder, and his breathing was choppy.
