She grabbed a branch. As two soldiers ran at him, she threw it.
Screaming, she ran at the two fallen men, one felled by tripping over the branch. The other man was still on foot, however, and he swung a blow at her. She ducked.
Again, instinct saved her. The punch cleaved the air, and the man twisted, off balance. She ran at his stomach. He was knocked off his feet. Flailing, he fell just as his comrade stood.
“You bitch!” the soldier screamed. Snarling, he ran at her.
Then fell. She screamed as Alexander charged the two men. A dagger shone, lodged in the fallen man’s shoulder blade. Addie danced backwards as the two fighting men circled. Alexander was unarmed, and the soldier wielded a dagger. Addie stood, eyes stretched in horrible disbelief, as the two faced each other.
“Alexander,” she breathed. “No.”
Nobody could fight a man with a dagger simply by wrestling. It wasn’t possible. There was another skirmish going on behind the two men – the distance rang with the clang of arms – but her attention was transfixed by the scene before her.
Alexander stepped forward, and the man with the dagger shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly trying to decide where to strike. She saw him place his weight on his right leg, and she knew, fractionally before it happened, that he was going to charge.
“No!” her exhale was a small sound, just on the edge of silence. She saw Alexander step left, then go right, and the sound of his fist chopping down on the back of the man’s head was an ugly snap.
The fellow staggered forward, and Alexander’s hand gripped his wrist, twisting it in a way that made Addie wince. She saw his fingers tremble, and then the dagger dropped from nerveless fingers.
The fellow was snarling, straining to reach it where it lay on the ground. Alexander lifted his knee, driving it into his face. The fellow twisted in his grip. Addie caught a glint of something behind him.
“No!”
As the soldier sneaked up from the rear, Addie threw herself at him bodily. Alexander twisted round. The fellow he was fighting struggled up, but his knee came up again and she heard the sound of the impact even as she screamed, struggling in the grip of the soldier who’d grabbed her arm.
“No!”
Alexander screamed it, twisting round. The dagger was in his hand again, and Addie saw it rise in a shining arc that came down on the fellow’s shoulder.
Blood shone in the dark and Addie screamed, horror mixing with relief as the blood spurted and then fell. Alexander twisted round to face her. The dagger was still in his hand, black bladed. She screamed and stumbled back, and he dropped it.
The dagger clattered to the ground.
Alexander collapsed.
“Alexander.”
Addie ran to him, her hand on his chest, the other stroking his hair. She bent down to kneel beside him and was shocked to feel how damp and cold he was. He looked up at her. His eyes shone. His face was slick with sweat. He lay on his back, chest heaving.
“Alexander,” she whispered, thoughts all tumbling from her lips. “You can’t die. I won’t let anything happen to you. You are not going to leave me, now that you’ve found me…you hear?”
He shifted in her grip. She heard him laugh.
“I wouldn’t even think of it,” he said, chest straining. “You’re dangerous.”
She grinned. Tears filled her eyes. “No, I’m not,” she whispered.
“You saved me,” he said softly.
“You saved me.”
She felt her tears start to fall. His eyes closed. The clearing was silent, except for the sound of strained breathing.
“Can you stand, sweetling?” she whispered.
“If you call me sweetling?” he chuckled, then coughed, rolling onto his side. “I think anything could be possible.”
She grinned, feeling joy spark in her heart amid the sorrow. He rolled over onto his side, gasping.
“I think…some bastard stabbed me,” he chuckled. She noticed that his face was unnaturally white, lips bloodless.
“Alexander…no,” she whispered.
“Not…fatal,” he said. “Just makes it hard to…feel my legs.”
She noticed that his legs were limp as he tried to stand. She twisted round, getting onto one knee. She reached for him, helping him to crouch.
“I’m glad this…happened,” he said shakily. He coughed and spat out some phlegm, wiping his mouth. His hand trembled. “If I hadn’t seen you fight, I would have…missed out.”
She laughed. “I didn’t actually fight,” she pointed out. Her tears had stopped, tension and care holding them at bay for the present.
“That’s what…you call it.” He rolled onto his knees and doubled over, coughing. “You were better than most lads, in their first fight.”
Addie grinned. “I’m glad to hear it. I think.”
They both laughed. He was lying on his side. She saw his face relax, and thought he must have found some relief from the pain. She felt down his side, seeking out the wound, and found a wet patch near his hip.
“You need this to be bandaged,” she said softly.
“Aye, lass.” His face was strangely serene. “I likely do. But how can we do aught now?” He chuckled. “If I die now, I’ll go happy. Aye?”
“I can bandage it!” she said, stung. “Sit up. Sit up!” She dragged him roughly upright. How could he be so heavy? Just his arm seemed to weigh too much for her to move.
“Whist, lass.”
“I will not. Let. You die.” The words came out in sharp, precise tones. She felt her rage cool. She reached for her petticoat. He chuckled.
“Whist, lass.” He said again. “Brogan would nae believe me. I wish he could see what a fighter you are.”
“Brogan has no business to know,” she said stiffly, though she grinned.
“Aye, you’re right. What kind of gentleman am I?” he grunted as she tore a strip off her petticoat, and started to bind the wound.
“A bad kind,” she said succinctly.
He laughed.
“This is going to be quite sore,” she warned him, starting to knot the bandage. She tied it roughly in place, making sure the knot pressed into the wound. He gasped.
“It does,” he said.
“See? I told you.”
Their eyes met. His were soft and full of care. He lifted his hand, slowly; as if it cost him effort. He rested it on her shoulder. She grasped it. The skin was cool.
“If I dinnae live past the night,” he whispered softly, “I don’t want to regret never having said this. I love ye, Addie McMurrie.”
Addie felt her eyes well up with tears. She blinked fiercely. “I love you, Alexander,” she whispered. She had no idea what his last name was, and she didn’t rightly care, either. It was him she loved. Alexander. “I love you.”
He smiled and slumped onto one side, eyes closed.
“Now I can sleep.”
“No,” Addie heard herself say sternly. “You can’t.” Some instinct in her told her that he had to keep moving. She stood, even though she was desperately weary, and tugged his shoulder. “Get up,” she hissed. “Get up!”
“That’s no way to get that cloth bandaged fool up,” a voice said.
“Away with ye!” Addie shouted.
“Brogan,” Alexander groaned from his vantage point on the ground. “Get away.”
Brogan, standing in front of Addie, chuckled.
“Sorry, lass,” he said. “I can lift the scalawag. If you’ll permit me…?”
“She won’t permit nobody tae come near me,” Alexander grinned, rolling over and struggling up onto his elbow.
“I didn’t say that,” Addie said tightly, though she was grinning. “Brogan! Thank goodness you came!”
“I got here as fast as I could,” he said, and he was kneeling down by the prone form of Alexander. She saw him drape one arm around his shoulders and, straining, lip held firmly between his teeth, struggle upright.
“You had to fight th
ese scalawags?” Alexander breathed. He was leaning on his friend, his hands and face bloodless white. Addie went instinctively to his left, supporting him.
“I did,” Brogan said. “Some big clot fool came down from nowhere and scared the lot, but I reckon that’s mostly luck. No?”
Alexander laughed, though he kept his teeth clenched on his lip. “I reckon some big daft fool wouldn’t come to your rescue, no,” he said.
“Why would he?” Brogan laughed.
Addie listened to their banter, heart soaring. With somebody to carry Alexander to safety, they had a chance, however small, of healing him.
“Can you get him to safety?” she said in a small voice.
“Milady, I can get him wherever you need him to be,” Brogan said with elaborate courtesy.
She chuckled. Alexander coughed.
“That sounds dangerous,” he said.
“Mind your tongue, Alexander,” Addie said lightly. Brogan laughed.
“She has you there.”
“She has me wherever she wants,” Alexander said.
Addie felt her cheeks flame, but she didn’t say anything. She was altogether too happy to try.
Brogan helped Alexander to walk, and together they reached a low rise. Addie went ahead, and found a small cave in the rocks.
“Bring him up here,” she called. “I’m going to get a fire going.”
“Grand,” Brogan wheezed. She heard his knee crack as he bent it, lowering Alexander to the ground. She hurried to find brush and dry leaves, anything that would kindle a fire. While she was fussing over them with flint and striker, she heard Brogan and Alexander talk.
“She saved my life,” Alexander breathed.
“I’m sure she did,” Brogan said. “She’s the sort of lass as makes life worthwhile.”
“No, she really did,” Alexander insisted wearily. “She saved me. From a soldier.”
“Aye, she’s a brave lass. Wonderful,” Brogan said, making her flush pink. “Must be daft, though. Fancy choosing a numb skull like you.”
Alexander chuckled, the sound turning into a dragging cough. Brogan laughed and she heard him thump Alexander’s back, helping him breathe. Her fire caught and started burning steadily.
“I have a fire going,” she called to the men.
“Grand,” Brogan said. “I haven’t got a haversack with me, or we’d have a pan for water, but…”
“I’ll use a helmet,” Addie said, suddenly struck with inspiration.
Brogan whistled. “Sharp lass.”
Addie went red with shy pride. “Thanks,” she whispered. Shivering, but filled with resolve, she went into the forest.
As she tiptoed into the clearing, she sent out a silent prayer that none of the men were still conscious enough for a fight. She looked round. They were all still. A horse placidly snuffed the earth by a fallen man.
Addie gave a low whistle. “Hey, lad,” she called.
The creature looked at her. He must have belonged to the enemy, for he had a saddle. On the saddle, she noticed a roll that she prayed contained provisions.
“Easy, boy,” she whispered to the horse. She stepped forward, one slow step at a time. The horse stayed where he was. She felt down the side of the saddle, unclasped the roll and then, grabbing up a fallen helmet, ran back to the clearing.
“I have this,” she called, half-throwing it at Brogan as she ran to check her fire. “I’m going for water now. Dinnae leave him.”
“Lass, let me…” he started.
“I said, don’t leave him,” she snapped, and was surprised when he sat up crisply, but didn’t argue. Before she could contemplate the fact that she, Addie, small and slight, had just intimidated a soldier, she was already at the stream.
Dipping the heavy iron helmet in, she filled it as best she could, then hurried back.
Some of the water splashed out as she lowered it, running down through the face piece of the helmet. She swore and dabbed at it, then lowered it onto the fire. Brogan had been tending it, she noticed – some of the larger twigs were on top and it was burning steadily. It hissed as she positioned the helmet, wincing as her fingers moved over flame.
“He’s right, ye ken,” Brogan said, looking at her from where he crouched by Alexander.
“He’s right?”
“Ye are a rare lass.”
“Whist,” Addie reproached, feeling her cheeks redden with a flush. “Ye watch yourself, lad.”
Brogan grinned. Neither of them said anything. Addie knelt down by Alexander, feeling the knotted bandage.
“It’s stopped bleeding,” she said to Brogan. Alexander appeared to be asleep. His breath was steady and even. His eyes were closed.
“You reckon we should clean it?” he asked, confusedly.
“Aye,” Addie nodded. “When the water’s boiling.”
When she inspected it, small bubbles were already forming, stirring up twigs and other debris that swirled in the water. She fished them out, noting with satisfaction that the water was already blood warmth.
“Almost ready,” she called out. “If you can loosen the bandage? I’m going to go back to see if I can find something tae bind it.”
Brogan frowned. “Be careful, lass,” he called.
“I will,” she said.
She slipped back to the clearing.
This time, she crouched by one of the bodies. She had to find some cloth to bind the wounds. She was cutting a section off somebody’s cloak, clumsily, the dagger gripped between nerveless fingers, when she heard a sound.
She twisted round, staring into the dark.
“Who goes there?” she whispered. Holding the cloth, she got to her feet.
No answer. She heard another rustle, though, louder this time.
“No!” she screamed, as the sound became feet, running over leaves.
A hand grabbed her and another descended over her mouth. Something hit her very hard, on the back of the head, and the world darkened to blackness.
RESPITE AND FEAR
Alexander twisted round, horrified.
“Brogan! No!” he roared. He struggled up onto his side. The wound in his flank burned and throbbed, bruised and aching. He barely took any notice. He got to his feet.
“Sir!” Brogan protested. “You’re hurt. Leave this to me.”
“I don’t…care I’m hurt,” Alexander hissed, desperately. “Addie! They’ve come back. They got her…I won’t let them take her.”
He was already running to the clearing. He could barely see, he was so weary. The trees whirled and twisted, fading into drifting shapes that flashed past as he ran. He heard footsteps beside his but he didn’t stop to look, knowing Brogan had joined him. Together, they ran onward through the woods.
“Addie!” he shouted. “No!”
He reached the clearing. He saw her lying on her front. A soldier was behind her, one foot on her dress, hands twisting her arms behind her as he tried to bind her hands. If she had been struggling, she was no longer. She was deathly still.
“No!” he roared. Running, he slammed into the man.
“Sir!” Brogan yelled, running with him. He felt him try to grab his shoulder, but he ignored it. He raised a fist and felt it slam into his enemy’s face.
“Sir! Stop!”
Alexander fell forward as the enemy stumbled, taken off guard by his charge. He felt him regain his balance, even as he himself kept falling, too exhausted to stay up. He hit the ground, knees bruised and jarred, head whirling.
“You bastard!” Brogan was snarling. He heard the ring of steel on steel.
Alexander struggled onto his knees. Brogan was already fighting, the two men grappling not two paces away. Brogan was holding him off, both of them armed with short, stabbing daggers. Alexander ran to Addie, where she lay on the ground. One side of her face was black with a bruise, a large lump on her forehead. He bent down to her.
“My sweetling,” he whispered. “My dearest.”
She groaned. He thought she might
be sick – a trail of spittle showed on one cheek and her eyes were cloudy and unfocused. He reached for her and, gritting his teeth against the pain in his side, hauled her to her feet. Behind him, he heard Brogan finishing off the soldier.
“You’re hurt,” Addie whispered as he stumbled forward, her arm around his shoulders.
“I know,” he said softly. “It does nae matter. You matter.”
“You daft man,” she whispered.
She leaned heavily on him, she could barely stand. He limped with her to the edge of the clearing, one slow step at a time. They walked together to the rise where the cliff stood. He could hear Brogan walking swiftly behind them, but his thoughts were all on Addie.
“Easy, lass,” he whispered, lowering her down in the shelter of the cliff. The fire she’d lit was still dimly smoldering. He bent down and blew on it, feeling a fresh searing ache through his wound as he did so. He grunted and coughed.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered. “Don’t…”
“It’s nothing,” he wheezed, though he could barely move, the muscles of his side stiff and cramping.
“I’ll do that,” Brogan said, and he felt a cold hand shove him away from the fire. “Get back to the cave, the pair o’ ye.”
“You watch yourself,” Alexander coughed, spitting out phlegm and blood. “Just wait until I’m able-bodied…”
“You’re already able-bodied,” Brogan countered fondly. “Now get back to the cave and let me heat this water.”
Alexander grinned bloodlessly and turned to Addie.
“Can you stand, my love?”
She nodded. She had been sick, he noticed, and she was still barely focusing her eyes. He knew how it felt – being knocked unconscious could leave a person nauseous for days. He threaded an arm below hers and lifted her up.
“Easy, lass,” he whispered. “There, now. Just a bit further…”
They limped to the cave and collapsed together. He held her close.
“You’re cold,” he whispered. He grabbed his cloak and untied it, bundling it round her. She was white, her teeth starting to chatter.
The Highlander On The Run (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 1) Page 13
