Chapter 15
It had been a mistake for William to go to Kinsey. Aye, he’d wanted to ensure she was performing the move correctly. But that wasn’t the only reason.
She’d been so damn indifferent. Every time they passed, she looked through him as if he didn’t exist. He’d tried speaking to her, but she’d just answered as a warrior, the coolness in her blue eyes giving away nothing.
He missed her.
The admission had almost slipped out of his mouth, but he’d just managed to stop himself. He’d caused her enough pain.
For she hadn’t been able to hide it all from him. In a flash of a moment, he’d seen it—the hurt swimming in her eyes. Except it hadn’t made him feel better, damn it. Knowing her suffering only made him feel worse.
He had done that to her.
It wasn’t fair for him to go to her. It had been selfish, and he vowed never to do such again. His communication with her would go through Reid going forward so that William could maintain his distance.
A shout rose somewhere on the field, back near the tree line, followed by the clang of metal. William didn’t bother to turn in the direction of the scuffle.
Fights between the men happened more often now as the siege wore on. The soldiers were bored, and disputes among them were common. An arrow sank into the grass near William’s feet.
Kinsey?
He spun around, fully expecting to face her wrath, but instead discovered an army rushing from the forest and King David’s men locked in combat at the perimeter.
William’s gaze cut through the battle waging around them, seeking out the brilliance of Kinsey’s red hair. He spotted her between two men who raced toward her with blades drawn. She held her sword as William had shown her while she backed up, her stare flitting between her attackers.
Though she wasn’t terribly far away, a cluster of Englishmen was racing toward William with intent.
He didn’t even think as he charged toward them while trying to keep part of his focus locked on Kinsey. His blade sliced through the first man who met him.
Several feet away, Kinsey blocked a blow, then barely managed to evade the next. William roared with indignation and whipped his blade with fury, connecting to an Englishman’s tender neck and then into the eye slit of another man’s helm.
All around him, Scotsmen were being slain. Most were not armed for combat. Some had their gambesons on. Precious few actually wore full chainmail or their helms. Winning would be impossible.
He thrust his blade into a final opponent and was able to rush the short distance to Kinsey.
William ran through the man attacking her with a savage growl and jerked his weapon free. “Were ye injured?”
She threw down the dulled practice sword she’d been using and snatched up her bow and quiver. “Nay.”
“This is an ambush we were no’ ready for.” Even as he spoke, three more men ran toward them.
She sent her arrows streaking through the field toward the men charging at them. One was struck in the shoulder, which did little to slow him down, while another fell with an arrow jutting from his helm.
William lifted his sword, preparing to strike the third, who was thus far uninjured. “Ye need to flee, Kinsey.”
“I’ll not leave ye or the other men here.” Another arrow flew at the third man, taking him down as well. “Not when I can help.”
“Then fire yer arrows from the trees, but no’ here.” He ran toward the man with the shoulder wound to keep him from Kinsey. They met in a harsh ring of metal on metal as their blades caught.
William shoved the bastard back to ensure he remained away from Kinsey.
She could fight, aye, but he didn’t want her to. Not when she might be injured. Or worse.
Energy exploded in William, swelling with the need to protect. He struck at the man, again and again, raining down blows faster than the man could defend. While William couldn’t cut him through the chainmail, the hits would still cause injury.
Any discomfort William could cause would be a benefit. For his part, he was wearing only his gambeson in place of his chainmail. While he could move faster and was less encumbered, he was also vulnerable.
His opponent staggered back, and William didn’t hesitate to end their battle with a lethal strike.
He spun around, but Kinsey wasn’t where he’d left her.
Damn.
He knew better than to assume she’d listened to him and gone to the forest. Reid was several feet away, fighting off five other men. An unfair number. William raced to his side, letting his blade join that of his friend’s.
“Get the men and meet in the forest,” William said.
There had been a predetermined place named in the thick woods, near where a collection of large stones by the river created a cave-like hollow for them to hide within.
A meeting place was something William had always named prior to any battle or siege in his refusal to lose any more men than was necessary.
“I was hoping ye’d say that.” Reid plunged his blade into an Englishman to his right.
Once their attackers had been defeated, he and Reid separated to gather the men.
William ran through the field, minding the bodies underfoot, his attention on full alert for any danger as he found his men and directed them to meet in the forest. His peripheral trained for the sight of a flash of red hair.
A clang of weapons called his attention. He glanced up and froze.
Kinsey had somehow procured a sword again and was arcing the blade as William had shown her, blocking an Englishman’s battle axe from slamming into her head.
She wore no helmet, only her trews and the leine with the leather belt at her waist. Her hair had been bound back in a braid, but in combat had come loose, flying in streams of vivid curls around her.
He dashed toward her, but something slammed hard into his back, sending him sprawling on the ground. His lungs seemed to suck in on themselves, not allowing air into his chest. He pushed upright and choked in a breath as a massive hammer flew toward his torso.
His body shifted to the left before his mind could catch up.
But once the wind of the hammer’s missed strike blew past him, he’d recovered from the hearty blow and charged toward his new opponent.
William shoved into the man’s abdomen, not stopping until the Englishman’s feet were skittering over the ground, and he toppled backward with William atop him.
The man had a mail coif beneath his helm. William growled his frustration. He’d wanted to slay the man and return to Kinsey.
If he was not already too late.
Nay.
He shoved at the man’s helm, knocking it from his head. Wide green eyes blinked up at him as the Englishman was momentarily stunned by the sun. In that brief moment, William was able to yank the coif from the man’s head, revealing his vulnerable neck.
The Englishman snarled in outrage and swung toward William, catching him in the side where he’d been struck by an arrow three weeks earlier. Pain exploded at the old wound he’d thought fully healed, and his body locked up around the agony.
William’s world spun around him as he was rolled over onto his back. He closed his hand around his sword and found no hilt in his palm. Somehow, he had dropped his sword.
A metallic taste filled his mouth.
Fear.
The Englishman rose over him, pinning him into place, lifting the hammer high overhead. William struggled against the man’s weight as his opponent grinned at his impending victory.
William’s mind raced with ways he might free himself, all futile. And with thoughts of Kinsey.
He would not be able to save her.
Kinsey grabbed up the bow from the ground where it had fallen when she’d picked up the discarded sword. Urgency blared in her head like a scream. There wasn’t a second to spare. She grabbed an arrow from the quiver where it still lay in the grass, nocking it as she straightened.
There was no time to think, to breathe. There wasn’t even a moment for her hands to tremble with the rapid firing of her pulse. She loosed the arrow. It flew through the air toward the man hefting the hammer over William.
Her heart snagged mid-beat, and for one instant, everything froze.
If she missed…
The arrow sank into the back of the man’s neck.
The Englishman sagged to his side, the hammer tumbling harmlessly to the ground.
Kinsey’s gasped out an exhale at her incredible luck. She lifted her quiver to her back, along with her bow, with hands that did shake now. And badly.
She left the sword where she had dropped it. There were many scattered on the field beside dead men. Far too many of them were Scots.
William’s lesson about using the weapon’s weight rather than fighting it had saved her life. And allowed her to save his.
She ran toward William as he shoved the Englishman off him and staggered to his feet, dragging his sword with him.
Blood flecked his face and gambeson, his hair disheveled from the struggle. But he was alive.
Hysteria tickled at the back of her throat, and her eyes swam with tears. She wanted to laugh. To cry. To do both at once and neither at all.
He was alive.
He met her halfway as his gaze skimmed the area around them. “We need to go to the forest. The men have been told already.” A sense of urgency rushed his words.
She knew what he saw, what had put the authoritative finality to his voice. Scotsmen lay dead in the fields they had once hoped to reclaim. Slaughtered without armor, some without even weapons.
This time she didn’t hesitate. The men she’d fought alongside were already fleeing, and William would be joining her. She nocked an arrow, taking aim at any Englishmen who might run toward them while William remained directly in front of her. Protecting her.
Several men came at them and paid with their lives, by way of one of her arrows or the razor edge of William’s blade. Through it all, he stayed so close to her, she could sense his body heat, anticipating his movements before he made them.
They melted into the edge of the forest but remained tense for a fight. There were more places for them to hide, aye, but just as many for their enemy to do so as well. William crouched low and motioned for her to follow, indicating they should duck behind a wide tree to their left.
He put a finger to his lips. Kinsey nodded, holding her breath, straining to listen.
Footsteps shuffled through the damp underbrush.
Her heart thundered in her chest. Surely, whoever was coming could hear it, thumping louder than their steps as they came nearer.
William reached for her hand, wrapping his warm grip around her. It was a small comfort, but it calmed her, nonetheless.
A twig snapped on the other side of the tree, followed by another scuffle of feet before the steps departed. “Nothing there.”
Kinsey wanted to fall backward and gasp with relief. Instead, she exhaled slowly and tried to rein her heartbeat back into a normal rhythm. William held up his free hand, indicating they should wait a moment longer.
His other hand remained on hers, protective.
She studied him as the forest around them settled into silence once more. His dark, intelligent eyes with more lashes than any man ought to have. The stark handsomeness of his face. The fullness of those lips and how perfect they’d felt against her own.
Everything in her was alight with the feeling of being alive. The air had never been more refreshing; the earthy scents of the forest were stronger, crisper. She’d never felt more powerful.
In that instant, she wanted William, needed him, more desperately than ever before.
She didn’t fight the impulsivity and instead rode it like a wave, letting it carry her the few inches between them to kiss him, hot and hard, on his sensual mouth. It was quick, a pressing of lips, a brushing of tongues, and then it was done.
The slam of lust was immediate. She was not alone, for his dark eyes burned with desire as he stared at her. His jaw squared with determination then, and he tightened his grip on her hand, quietly pulling her onward.