Panic spurred Kenna on. Colum’s voice was growing weaker, his words labored and slurred. Bloody mud soon coated her hands and arms as she battled against the shifting hillside. Kenna didn’t care how long it took—she was going to dig him out.
“Ye must stop!” Strong hands latched onto her shoulders and lifted her away from the stubborn pile of earth holding Colum prisoner.
Kenna whirled, still clawing, and beat her hands against Ronan’s chest. “He’s alive. Didn’t you hear him talking to me? He’s alive. We’ve got to get him out—now!”
Ronan didn’t say a word, just tightened his grip on Kenna’s shoulders and shook her as he turned her around to face Colum. “Look at him. Look at his color. The man waits just this side of death’s door. ’Twill no’ be much longer afore he crosses over.” He shook her harder and pointed to Colum’s ever-weakening motions against the pile of earth atop him. “Make yer
good-byes to the man whilst he can still hear ye and carry yer words with his spirit to the other side.”
“No!” Kenna sobbed and yanked herself free. She sank back to the ground at Colum’s side and started scooping away at the mud again. “No,” she sniffed with cold dead calm as Colum gasped out a labored sigh and squeezed her hand. “We’ve got to get him out. We’ve got to get him to Trulie and Granny.” Her hands and knees sank into the cold soft ground as she huddled closer to Colum. He couldn’t die. She refused to allow it.
Kenna inched up against Colum’s side, still pawing away the mud clumped atop his chest. She wiped her muddy hands on the sides of her dress, then pressed them on either side of Colum’s face. “I’m gonna get you out. I’m not gonna leave you here to die.”
Colum forced his eyes open and managed a weak smile. “I just need a wee bit o’ rest and then I’ll help ye. Aye, lass?”
Hot tears streamed faster down her face as Colum’s eyes fluttered shut. His skin was getting colder. His breathing was becoming more shallow. Kenna sucked in a deep shuddering breath. Ronan Sutherland was going to listen to her or she’d make sure he regretted the day he was born. “Help me get Colum out. Help me get him back to the keep.”
Kenna didn’t look up as she spoke, just kept her gaze fixed on the shallow rise and fall of Colum’s chest. If she didn’t look away, Colum would keep breathing. A tiny part of her knew the idea was foolish, but it didn’t matter. She’d do whatever it took to keep Colum alive.
“Can yer sister bring back the dead?” Ronan squatted down beside Kenna. He waved a hand toward Colum. “I know ye dinna wish to let him go, but look at the man. He is at his end.” Ronan’s tone was quiet and gentle, like a priest soothing a grieving widow.
Colum’s eyes fluttered back open as his head turned toward Ronan. “Like hell I am.” He flinched as an uncontrollable cough shook free of him. Kenna shoved more mud off his chest, relieved when the wheezing spasms stopped.
Kenna hugged Colum’s arm to her chest, leaned forward, and smoothed more mud away from his pale cold face. “As long as Colum’s heart beats, Trulie and Granny can heal him.” Kenna ignored the voice in the back of her mind reminding her that even Trulie and Granny might not be able to save Colum if the Fates had decided his path through this life was at an end.
“No, Lady Kenna. I canna risk it. More storms nip at our heels and Draegonmare is still many days’ ride away. I’ll see that he’s put out of his misery and granted a merciful quick end instead of this slow, torturous death. I’ll order a fine cairn built beside the road to mark his passing. But I willna grant him—or you—anything more. I cannot.” Ronan stood and held out a hand to Kenna. “Come. Ian will take ye to the warmth of a fire while I help this brave man on his way.”
“Go straight t’hell, ye bastard.” Colum struggled to turn toward Ronan, grimacing as he reached a clawing hand upward. “Ye best bring plenty a help. Ye’ll find I’m no’ an easy kill.”
Kenna jerked away from Ronan. “You are not going to ‘put him out of his misery.’ He’s not some maimed dog that needs to be put down.” She pressed closer to Colum and hugged his arm back against her chest.
Tears blinded her as they flowed harder. Kenna coughed against the pain of her breaking heart. She couldn’t dig Colum out by herself—they had to help her. She had to convince them. A choking sob caught in her throat as she realized what she had to do. It was the only choice she had left. Colum would hate her, but at least he’d be alive. “If you will help me get him out and take him back to MacKenna keep to be healed, I will be your wife.”
“No!” Colum’s eyes flew open and he clenched hold of Kenna’s arm.
“Yes, Colum.” Kenna closed her eyes and turned away from the pain and rage in Colum’s face. “I have to. It’s the only way.”
“Yer a vile bastard if ye hold her to such an agreement.” Colum released Kenna and shook his fist at Ronan. “Get me arse free of this pit so we can settle this like men should.”
Kenna opened her eyes square into Ronan’s wary gaze. A hiccuping sob tore free from the depths of her soul as she sat straighter. She swallowed hard against rising hysteria as she choked out the words: “I mean it. I swear to you, in front of Colum and your men, if you’ll help me save him, I’ll be your wife…in every way…and I will never leave you. Ever.”
“Ye must not!” Colum roared out the words, weakly pounding his fist to the ground as he strained against the hillside. “Kenna. No!”
Kenna slid away from Colum’s reach and kept her gaze fixed on Ronan. This was her only chance to get Colum out alive. The muscles in Ronan’s jaw twitched as he stared down at her. Kenna took a deep breath against the clashing emotions threatening to shatter her into a weeping pile of hysteria. She extended her right hand and lifted her chin. “You’ll find I never break my word. It’s a matter of honor with a Sinclair. So tell me: Do we have a deal or not?”
“No! Damn ye. No!” Colum’s words turned to enraged groans as his flailing weakened.
“Ye swear to be m’wife even though this man that ye claim t’love could verra well live if I choose to save him?” Ronan took a step back, crossed his arms, and stared down her. His scowl deepened into a disbelieving frown.
“Gather the rest of your men and I’ll repeat the oath in front of them.” Kenna swallowed hard and did her best to block out Colum’s enraged moans. She had to do this. It was only way. He had to live. That’s all that mattered.
A strange cold peacefulness settled over her. Good. She wanted to be numb. She hoped the eerie lack of feeling would last the rest of her life—especially since she had just promised that life away.
“Yer repeated oath will no’ be necessary.” Ronan’s gaze shifted to Colum. His mouth tightened as Colum cut loose with a stream of curses and made a weak attempt to throw anything he could reach at Ronan.
Ronan’s gaze returned to lock with Kenna’s. “I shall take yer word as yer bond, Lady Kenna. I see the truth of it in yer eyes.” Ronan bent, scooped up Kenna’s limp hand, and pulled her to her feet. “Stand aside now, lass. We shall see if we can pull the man free.”
Kenna backed a few steps away, her fists clenched against her stomach. This had to work. Surely, Ronan and his men would be able to yank Colum out of the earth’s clutches.
Ronan walked back and forth beside Colum. He squatted down, slowly rose, then circled and squinted at the rocks and mud from every possible angle.
“Come closer, ye bastard. Put yer throat in m’hand.” Colum shifted, doing his level best to lunge for Ronan. His clenching hand grabbed at the air as Ronan circled him.
“Ian!” Ronan bellowed, ignoring Colum as he circled back and walked to where Colum’s left foot was buried.
Ian thumped down the hillside along the line of trees undisturbed by the recent landslide. “Aye?”
“A spade.” Ronan bent down and scowled at Colum, turning his head first one way, then the other. “And the axe,” he added as his brow creased with displeasure.
“An axe?” Kenna repeated. She didn’t like the sound of that
.
Ronan jabbed a finger toward the pile of debris just above Colum’s buried right shoulder. “Look at the line of gray along that mud. Look at the shape of the earth that has settled atop him.” Ronan walked to just behind Colum’s head, squatted, and stared down the length of Colum’s body. “I fear either his arm or his leg is caught beneath a larger boulder. If that be so, by the look of his color, he will nay last the time it will take to move the rock and dig him free.”
“Bring me the axe. I’ve a good use for it.” Colum kicked at the ground and stretched to reach Ronan with his free hand.
Ronan ignored Colum, just stood and rubbed his chin as he continued studying the lay of the land. “But if it be only his arm or leg trapped beneath the stone…” Ronan’s voice trailed away as he lifted his gaze to Kenna. “…we will save the precious time the man needs by cutting him free.”
“Cutting him free?” Kenna stumbled to support herself against a tree as the ground took a nauseating spin. “What the hell do you mean by ‘cutting him free’?” Surely, Ronan didn’t mean what she thought he meant.
“Save the body or save the man. Do ye wish him to live or no’?”
Kenna swallowed hard against the bile burning at the back of her throat. No. She couldn’t order Colum dismembered. She prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
“Dinna allow them to do it, Kenna. Ye must stop this madness.” Colum’s voice held no fear, just pure unadulterated rage.
Balancing the head of the axe against the side of his boot, Ronan directed Ian to begin digging at Colum’s feet. He nodded his approval as Ian dug down and managed to clear away most of the debris piled on Colum’s chest and torso, all the while dodging Colum’s grappling hand.
After Liam clamped down Colum’s free arm, Ian straddled Colum’s waist and snaked one hand up Colum’s left side until the lad had shoved his arm shoulder deep into the sticky hillside.
Colum bellowed out another stream of curses as Ian worked his way through the mud. The lad shook his head with a grim scowl as he pulled himself free of the cloying muck. “ ’Tis no’ good, master. I canna say for sure, but both the man’s arm and his leg are caught…by somethin’.” Ian’s face darkened with a dour expression as he shook his shaggy head. “ ‘The arm appears t’be whole. No breaks, but doesna feel quite right. The thickest part of the leg is broken, and just past his knee feels to be broken as well.”
Kenna couldn’t hold back any longer. She bent double, hung on to a cold wet tree, and vomited on the far side of it. An aching shudder shook through to her very core. She couldn’t bear to think of what they were about to do. She couldn’t think about the pain—or how it would change Colum’s life. Colum took great pride in his skill as a warrior and protector of Clan MacKenna. Would he be able to adapt if they had to maim him?
“He will be alive.” Ronan’s quiet voice rumbled through the dizziness clouding her vision as he took her by the arm and led her to Ian. “Go with Ian.”
Kenna shook her head and started to pull away. Ian lifted her by the elbows and started pushing her up the hillside. “Ye canna be of help down here. Master and the lads will get the man to the wagon. Ye will only be in the way.”
“No. I want to stay with him. I can’t leave him.”
Ronan closed the distance between them. He gripped her chin in the palm of his hand and forced her to meet his gaze. “Go with Ian. Now, wife. Agreed?” The truth of what Ronan had really asked flickered like lightning in his eyes.
Kenna swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Agreed,” she finally said, and nodded. “Thank you. For everything.” Kenna wet her lips and raised her chin. “Thank you, my husband.”
Both of Ian’s scraggly eyebrows disappeared beneath the unkempt shock of hair that tumbled across his forehead. He respectfully bowed his head as again, he held out a hand. “Allow me to help ye, milady. I’ll build ye a fine fire and fetch a skin of whisky t’chase the chill from yer bones.”
It didn’t really matter if Ian built a fire or not. Kenna welcomed the cold numbness seeping across her. She felt sure she would never be warm again. She covered her ears with both hands to block out Colum’s enraged screams.
Chapter 28
Kenna slid off the end of the wagon as gently as she could. The last thing Colum needed was another sharp bounce as the loss of her weight shook the cart. She stared back up into the wagon. Thankfully, Colum hadn’t moved. They’d finally gotten enough herb-laced whisky down him to numb him into a restless stupor. But her hardheaded warrior, her Viking god still fought and cursed them even in his drugged sleep.
Kenna closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the cold iron framing of the wagon. She shuddered out a deep breath, praying another silent prayer of thanks. Colum’s arms and legs were still intact—injured, but at least the axe hadn’t been necessary. Now, all she had to do was keep his soul anchored in his body until they made it back to the keep. Please let him live. Please let him hold on until they can heal him.
“Yon lies a fresh stream. Go. See to yerself.” Ronan gently pulled her away from the cart. “I promise ye, we’ll no’ tarry here longer than a few hours, but I must give the horses a bit o’ rest or they’ll no’ last the remainder of the journey.”
“You promised we wouldn’t make camp for the night. You promised we’d travel straight through to the keep. Right?” Kenna pulled the plaid tighter about her shoulders, shivering against the cold dampness of the dreary day. What she wouldn’t give to turn back the clock to a warm sunny day in the garden. A delightful day where her only worry was teasing Colum with kisses. Kenna swallowed hard. What she wouldn’t give to change a lot of things.
Ronan frowned down at her like a weary parent displeased with an unruly child. “Ye’ll find I always keep m’word. We’re no’ making camp. But we canna risk the health of the horses or the men. If we push either of them too hard, we’ll ne’er make it back. All must have a bit of rest. Fresh water and feed must be tended to as well.” Ronan gently nudged her toward the softly bubbling sound of moving water as he again nodded toward the wood. “Fresh water and a bit of food would help ye as well. Go now. Tend to yer needs. A fine fire will be ready for ye when ye return.”
Kenna glanced back at Colum one last time, then finally nodded. Reluctantly, she admitted Ronan was right. If they all dropped from exhaustion, they’d never get Colum the help he needed.
Her muddy dress crackled and weighed down her steps as she plodded into the wood. With an irritated yank, Kenna snapped free a good-sized branch from a nearby sapling. Gritting her teeth and mentally counting off all her frustrations, Kenna whacked the stick against the mud-encrusted folds of what was once fine, costly material. She repeatedly beat against her skirts until most of the dried chunks of mud fell free.
Better. Kenna lifted her skirts and shook them from side to side. Much better. She straightened and rubbed her lower back as she tossed the stick and dropped free the tattered layers of her cherished gown. What a ridiculous failure that plan had turned out to be. Kenna sighed as she shook again. The last of the dried mud and bits of debris pattered down into the leaves around her like steady drops of rain.
Kenna swiped a corner of Ronan’s borrowed plaid across her mud-streaked décolleté. No good. She’d have to wait until she reached the creek, because that layer of filth was going to take some water and scrubbing. She might’ve succeeded in knocking free ten pounds of caked mud from her clothes, but the stubborn Highland soil wasn’t giving any ground when it came to her skin.
She paused and cocked an ear back toward Ronan’s men as they milled about tending to the horses. The deep somber rumble of their conversations hummed around the wagon like thunder in low-hanging clouds. Kenna swallowed hard against the aching knot in her throat and blinked back the threat of tears. No. She had to be strong. For Colum. She had to be the one to get them both through this. Someday, he’d realize why she’d had to do this. Someday, he would understand. Like hell, her inner voice prodded. Kenna shook her head
against the truth.
Kenna sniffed against the frosty cold, gathered up her skirts, and plodded on. She’d feel better once she washed up; icy water splashed against her face would clear her head. A dull ache deep in her right hip forced her to slow her pace. She must’ve pulled something during her wrestling match with the tree. Kenna paused, sucked in a deep breath, then winced and bent against a sharp stabbing burn in her ribs. She’d better find that stream soon. Apparently, the more she moved, the more aches and pains were going to make themselves known.
After shoving her way through tangled underbrush, Kenna lifted her head and listened. The water sounded a bit closer, but not as close as it should. Kenna turned, straining to see back up the hillside. She couldn’t see Ronan and his men anymore. She couldn’t even hear them. How could the stream have sounded so close and still be so far away? Kenna shivered deeper into the woolen cloth around her shoulders and pulled it closer about her face. An eerie sense of being watched tingled across her flesh.
Kenna squinted against the biting wind rattling through the wood and shook away the feeling. “Now is not the time to lose your last shred of sanity.” Her voice sounded lost and small beneath the stark canopy of silent trees. A rustling crunch sounded to her right. Kenna jerked toward the noise. Nothing was there but a scraggly bunch of gray-twigged saplings. “Get to the water, Kenna, before you completely lose your mind.” She huffed out an irritated breath and shrugged free the cloying feeling she wasn’t alone.
Kenna gathered her skirts in one hand and quickened her pace. She had to get to that stream. Fresh icy water would do the trick. Not only would it wash away the dirt, it would cleanse away this stupid paranoia.
Kenna finally reached the edge of the stream. Smooth black rocks, round and glistening, peeped up through a paper-thin layer of ice. They must be a great deal farther up the mountain than she had realized. That explained why it was still so cold.
My Highland Bride (Highland Hearts #2) Page 19
