Chapter 34
Hunter saw red, a madness sweeping through him that he hadn’t felt in all the years he’d fought a pointless war. The red mist that he’d heard warriors speak of, but had never experienced himself.
In that moment, however, seeing Nancy on the ground, with Beathan standing over her, he was no longer a man but a beast, feral as the dire wolves of myth, his fangs bared and ready to tear out Beathan’s throat.
He crossed the short distance in what seemed like half a second, his hand grasping Beathan’s collar and yanking him back so hard that his cousin gurgled, the sword that glistened with Nancy’s blood falling from the man’s hand in surprise.
As the blade clattered to the ground, falling harmlessly at Nancy’s side, Hunter didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even think. He just snapped Beathan’s neck as if it were a twig, his cousin sagging immediately, a dead weight, the twisted soul gone from his mortal form. Snuffed out in a moment.
Hunter let the man drop and stepped right over him to scoop Nancy into his arms, his anxious gaze drifting to the tear in her wedding dress and the blood that seeped through the fabric, turning silver to scarlet.
“Daenae ye dare,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “Daenae ye dare die, love. Daenae even think about it.”
Holding her tight against his chest, he rushed out of the chapel, for though she was there in his arms, he could feel their future slipping away from him.
I should have let ye go back. I should have insisted. What did I persuade ye to stay for, if this is to be yer fate?
His heart felt like it might explode in his chest as he broke out into the fresh air. Familiar, smiling faces, still celebrating the peace between clans, suddenly turned to frowns and gasps of concern.
Isla, Elsie, Jack, and Jane tried to crowd him.
“Out of me way,” he barked, fixing Jack with a sharp look. “It was Beathan, Jack. It was me cousin. Ye’ll find him in there.” His gaze briefly drifted to Isla. “I’m sorry, Auntie. I’m sorry. He didnae leave me any choice.”
Without further explanation, he pushed through the group, only to pause and turn his desperate gaze to Jane.
“Where’s yer sister? I need her, at once,” he urged. “Beathan ran her through with a sword, and I daenae ken how bad it is.”
All he knew was that Nancy’s eyes had fluttered shut, her body limp in his arms, and she was showing no sign of waking up. Meanwhile, with every second he wasted, that patch of red spread wider.
“I’ll get her,” Jane said, her hand flying to her chest. “I’ll get her right now. Where should I bring her to?”
“Me chambers,” Hunter replied.
With that, he broke into a run once more, not stopping until he was in the very room where they should have stayed. He had been so confident, too confident, and if it cost Nancy her life, he didn’t know how he would endure the next day, much less all the years to come, without her.
He laid her down on the bed, trying to ignore the rumpled sheets, the hastily cast aside fabric like a map of happier, more peaceful moments.
“Stay with me,” he pleaded as he snatched his dagger from the nearby table and cut her dress up the middle with great care, the shift beneath too, until he could see the full extent of her injury.
The sword had pierced through her side—a miraculous injury, in truth, for he knew the spot well.
In fact, he had a matching scar. The sword had missed all of her vital organs, but that didn’t mean she was safe.
She might yet bleed out if he couldn’t stem it soon, and she still hadn’t opened her eyes, her face very pale indeed.
Minutes passed in a frantic blur as he hurried about the room, gathering a basin of water, clean cloths, and some honey to spread over the wound. He had no vinegar or wine to wash out the wound, so a dab of whiskey would have to do.
As he pressed the liquor-soaked corner of a cloth to the wound, Nancy’s eyes flew wide, a pained gasp escaping her lips.
Hunter had never been more grateful to hear such an agonized sound, nor so grateful to see her glaring up at him.
“Ow,” she muttered, almost sarcastically. “What are you doing?”
“I should be askin’ ye the same thing,” he replied, the wound looking far less serious now that he had cleaned it.
There would be a scar, no doubt, but there was every chance that she would live.
“What did ye do that for, eh?” he chided. “That was the stupidest thing anyone has ever done. I had it in hand, love, as I promised ye. Ye shouldnae have come into the chapel. Ye should have stayed outside, where ye’d have been safe.”
He was furious with her and so relieved, the feelings proving to be a strange mix.
“I… couldn’t help it,” she replied, her expression softening.
“I could have borne it if ye’d left to return to yer world in the middle of the night, but what made ye think I could live in a world where I ken ye’re gone? Where ye daenae exist at all?”
She smiled up at him, making him wonder if she’d lost a lot more blood than he’d thought. What on earth did she have to smile about when she’d almost died?
“You’re just grumpy that I saved you,” she said, with a chuckle that quickly turned into a wince, her hand moving to cover her injured side. “Ow! Right, must remember not to laugh.”
“I’m nae grumpy,” he protested as he moved her hand aside and dipped his fingers into the small ceramic jar of honey, spreading a thin layer over the wound.
“I’m livid that ye behaved so… rashly. If ye’d been killed today, I wouldnae have survived it.
Aye, I’d be alive, but I wouldnae wish to be.
Ye’re in here, for heaven’s sake,” he declared, his hand thumping against his chest, “and I cannae get ye out, nor have any desire to. It wasnae just our bodies entwining last night, love. It was our hearts, our souls. Ye’d have killed me too if ye’d died today. ”
She blinked up at him, her lips parting in faint surprise. “But I couldn’t let you die.”
“I wasn’t goin’ to, ye beautiful, stubborn dolt,” he huffed, shaking his head. “I love ye, Nancy. I love ye, and I cannae decide if I want to kiss ye, make love to ye, or throttle ye for bein’ so foolish.”
A lovely pink hue ripened the apples of her pale cheeks. “I hate to say it, but I wouldn’t suggest either of the last two.” She bit back a smile. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I recently met the pointy end of a sword.”
“Ye think this is a time for jests?” he said in disbelief, but he was secretly relieved. If she could joke, then that meant she was all right.
“Yes,” she replied, lifting her hand to his face, “and I think it’s also time to tell you that I love you, too.
Lord knows I’ve tried not to, but I wouldn’t get in the way of a sword for just anyone.
I wouldn’t… consider a life without modern medicine, antiseptic at the very least, for just anyone either. ”
Hunter found that he couldn’t speak, his hand coming up to cover hers, pressing her palm more firmly against his cheek.
She loves me back.
“I let ye go once, love. I hope ye ken that I willnae do it again,” he said, finding his voice. “If ye’ll have the Hawk for yer husband, of course.”
She carefully propped herself up on her elbows, wincing through the movement. His arm curled around her, bringing her into his chest.
“I don’t think I’m in a position to get married today, my love,” she said, with a soft chuckle. “And it seems you’ve ruined my wedding dress.”
He rested his hand on her stomach and dipped his head, his lips a whisper away from hers. “We’ll get ye a new one,” he murmured. “I’ve waited me whole life for ye, lass. I can wait a few days, a few weeks, to marry ye. So, will ye let me take that pendant off ye?”
“You can,” she replied, her arms looping around his neck. “I don’t think I need it anymore.”
As his lips grazed hers, his hand unfastened the ribbon that held the necklace around her neck. After putting it into the pocket of his belted plaid, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her more fiercely.
“I love ye,” he murmured, losing himself in her, grateful beyond belief that no grave harm had come to her.
“I love you,” she replied in a breathless whisper, before her mouth caught his in a slow, searing kiss. “And perhaps if we take it very slow, and you’re very gentle, I think I’d like to reconsider what I said before.”
He paused. “What do ye mean?”
“I mean…” she whispered, her voice sultry, as her hand traveled down his chest and stopped at the buckle of his belt. “If a kiss can heal a cut, imagine what that can do for healing a sword wound.”
“We shouldnae,” he protested lightly, kissing her again.
“We’re both alive, my love,” she reminded him. “We changed history. I’d say there’s no better time.”
Pulling her up, a growl rumbled in the back of his throat as she straddled his thighs. And, gazing into her eyes, he knew he couldn’t deny her anything.
“Once Lady Gibson has tended to ye, we’ll see,” he allowed. “Until then, I daenae plan to stop kissin’ ye.”
Cupping his face in her hands, she smiled. “Then don’t.”
As their mouths met in a stirring kiss, his arms tight around her, he found himself grateful to a tapestry he had never seen and the bride who had altered his fate, allowing him the promise of a happy future with her at his side.
A love he had never thought would come to him, right there in his embrace.
“I love ye,” he said quietly, doubting he would ever tire of saying it.
“I love you, too,” she replied, her eyes bright with contentment, before pulling his head down and kissing him again.