Chapter 8
Burke lunged at Tanin with a roar and would have beaten him senseless if Malcolm and Angus hadn’t grabbed him and held him back.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Burke yelled, his face red with anger.
“Mind your business,” Angus said harshly.
“She’s hurt and needs—”
“To stay on her feet and stay strong,” Angus finished.
“She’s a woman—”
“She’s our leader first,” Angus corrected.
“Let me go,” Burke all but snarled.
“Let him go,” Storm ordered sharply after shaking her head clear, and the men obeyed.
Burke walked over to her and got more annoyed when he spotted her red cheek. “That wasn’t necessary. I would have helped you.”
“By letting me faint and delaying us from leaving?” She shook her head. “That isn’t helping me. We’re leaving now,” she called out.
“You’re in no shape to walk,” Burke argued, though he doubted it would make a difference. Storm was a stubborn one, and as Angus had pointed out, she was their leader.
“I have no choice,” she insisted. “We must get back home before nightfall or we risk being caught. Now if you don’t want to be left behind, Mr. Longton, I suggest you keep up with us.”
She turned and set a quick pace, her men following suit.
Burke mumbled several oaths, scooped up his bow and arrows, and took off after them. He was still reeling from the vision of Tanin slapping Storm across the face. Her head had jerked to the side and she would have stumbled if Tanin hadn’t grabbed her arm.
That Tanin’s action had prevented her from fainting didn’t matter to him, she had suffered an injury and needed tending, not abuse.
“Couldn’t have done it, could you?” Malcolm asked, having slowed to walk beside Burke.
“If you mean slugged her, no, I couldn’t have.”
“Then you would have failed her. Would you have preferred that?”
Burke didn’t answer, and not another word was spoken until they reached camp hours later.
“Tanin, see to things,” Storm ordered. “I’m going to see Janelle.” She walked off, her strides slow.
Burke looked at Tanin.
“Go. If she does not find my mother in the shelter on the ground, she will need help getting up the tree,” Tanin said.
Burke took off and would have whether Tanin approved of it or not.
He had worried about Storm on the whole journey home.
She had kept a quick pace, which couldn’t have helped the pain in her shoulder.
Yet she had not complained once. He wasn’t certain if she had been courageous or stupid.
What did it matter now, as long as she was all right.
He found her with her hands held firm to the thick rope. Her head rested against it as if uncertain she had the strength to keep hold.
He didn’t bother to ask her if she needed help. He walked over, slipped his arm snugly around her waist, tucked her against his body, and ordered, “Put your arm around my neck and hold on.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with pain.
He almost spewed a plethora of oaths but instead ignored his anger and addressed her pain.
“Hold on to me. I won’t let you go. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered his promise in her ear.
Her eyes drifted shut and her head descended slowly to rest on his shoulder.
“I’m here, Storm, I’ll take care of you.” His words alarmed even him, but then he felt compelled to look after the pint-sized, stubborn woman. No one else did, at least not the way he would—leader or not.
He continued to hold on to her as he walked her through the open door of the tree house.
A tall woman with long white hair that lay in a single braid over her shoulder turned at their entrance. She had remarkably beautiful skin with few wrinkles, though one sensed her advanced years.
“Her shoulder took a deep slice,” Burke explained, reluctant to release Storm.
Janelle hurried to his side. “Help her to the chair.”
Burke did as directed, anxious for Storm to receive adequate care. He feared her wound could prove deadly. He had seen much lesser wounds prove someone’s demise.
“I wrapped it as best as possible,” Burke offered, stepping aside but not too far. He felt the need to remain close to her side. Storm might need him, if only to hold on to a friendly hand against the pain.
“This requires stitches if it is to heal properly,” Janelle said when she finally uncovered the wound.
“Do what you must and get it over,” Storm encouraged.
“I’ll help,” Burke offered.
“There is nothing for you to do, begone,” Storm ordered.
Burke laughed. “I don’t think so. I’m staying right here.”
“And if I don’t want you here?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, squatting down on his haunches beside her. “I’m staying by your side.”
Storm reached out hesitantly, finally pressing her hand to his cheek. “You are a stubborn one.”
“Dependable, Storm,” he corrected. “I’ll be there for you when necessary.”
Her smile was sad and touched his heart. He didn’t know what it was about this woman that made him feel so protective of her. It made no sense, and yet he didn’t fight the notion. He simply did what he felt was right, and it felt right to see to her safety.
“This will be painful,” Janelle said.
Burke winced while Storm simply nodded.
“What can I do?” he asked, anxious to help in any way he could, though more anxious to ease her pain if possible.
“Hold her,” Janelle said. “It will be easier for me and less painful for her if she remains still.”
Burke grinned, pressing his nose to Storm’s. “How lucky am I? I have an excuse to hold you.”
He almost regretted his words after they left his mouth, especially when he witnessed the confused look on Storm’s face. She didn’t seem to know what to make of his remark, though it was obvious. He enjoyed holding her.
“Have you ever felt the sting of stitches?” Storm asked, resting her head on his.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and moved in close beside her, leaving her injured side free. “Sting, you say?” He guffawed. “I’d say more like a needle pulling your flesh together.”
“Thank you for so vividly reminding me.”
Burke was quick to amend his response and take her mind off her pending pain. “I’m a coward at heart.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment.”
Burke was impressed by the seriousness of her tone. “Why not?”
“You have proven yourself a courageous warrior in the short time I have known you. I doubt the sting of stitches would upset you.”
Janelle cleansed the wound, then signaled him that she was near ready to begin, and Burke hoped to distract her as much as possible.
“Twenty-five stitches is what did the trick,” he said, keeping his head rested against hers.
“Tell me,” Storm said, her hand reaching out to grab hold of his. “Was it a blade, an arrow, a fierce fight that won you the honor of a scar?”
“It was…” He paused, meeting her eyes so close that he could tell that one eye was slightly bluer than the other. “A pitchfork.”
“A pitchfork?” Storm asked with a gasp as the needle pierced her skin for the first stitch.
“A mighty weapon, I might add,” he said dramatically. “I was but a lad of ten years and challenged by friends to take a dive into the haystack.”
Burke hurried to continue when Storm squeezed his hand as Janelle made the next stitch. “It was a dare I could not refuse.”
“Your honor was at stake,” Storm agreed.
“You understand,” he whispered, and his lips drifted to her ear as her hand squeezed his harder.
“Honor must be defended,” Storm said with difficulty as Janelle made a third stitch.
“And I did a superb job,” Burke bragged, and was relieved to hear Storm chuckle and rest her head to his shoulder. “I positioned myself just right for the dive.”
Storm glanced up at him, and he was caught in the depths of her blue eyes. Her pain was obvious but so was her strength. They battled for dominance, and he had no doubt which would be the victor.
“Without making certain of what awaited you?”
“I was ten,” he offered as an excuse.
“And about to learn a hard lesson,” she said with a cringe.
He pressed his cheek to hers and whispered in her ear. “I now look before I leap.”
Storm laughed as Janelle finished the last stitch. Burke stepped away so that Janelle could bandage her shoulder.
“What happened after your plunge into the pitchfork?” Storm asked with a teasing smile.
Burke stuck out his chest. “I screamed through every stitch and was comforted by my mother for three days straight.”
Storm’s smile faded. “I have no time for rest or comfort.”
She walked out and Burke followed. He silently admonished himself for his remark. He should have remembered that Storm had never had the comfort of a loving mother. Her childhood had been harsh and lonely. Even now, he knew she had to feel alone. She was a leader, and her men and people came first.
Of course, there had been her husband, but he had yet to find out about him.
He knew her men would offer no information, and though he was curious, he thought it inappropriate to ask her directly about him.
He had a feeling that her penchant for rescuing the helpless might have something to do with her husband and the reason she was now an outlaw. In time, he would discover the truth.
He caught up with her as she was about to grab the rope to descend to the ground.
“I’ll get you down.” His hand caught the rope at the same time hers did.
She hesitated, but he could see that her common sense took over and she nodded her approval.
They descended much differently than they had ascended. She no longer leaned on him. Her strength had returned, and she placed a distance between them even though he held her close. It was as if she had erected a shield to protect herself against being protected.
How he would penetrate that shield, he wasn’t certain. That he would penetrate it, he was certain.
“There is nothing so urgent that you cannot rest,” he said when they reached the bottom.
She pushed away from him with a wince.
He reached out, and she stepped out of his grasp.
“There is your brother to see to.”
“The men need rest,” Burke said. “It will have to wait.”
“There may not be time,” Storm insisted. “If it is your brother Cullen being held, then he has been there over a month. He could be close to death by now.”
She walked away, and Burke once again followed, annoyed at being reminded of his brother’s precarious position.
He needed no such reminding. He worried that he would be too late to rescue Cullen and not only that he would fail to fulfill his father’s dying wish, but that he would never get to know his only sibling.
“Glencurry must still be dealt with,” Burke heard her say as she approached the campfire where her men sat.
“We have been considering the matter,” William said, his meaty hand reaching out to assist her to take a seat next to him.
Burke joined them, squeezing in between the lean Philip and Malcolm. That they even considered the failed rescue so soon after returning from a mission amazed him. He thought Storm would order the men to rest, and here she ordered that another mission be discussed, and the men did so willingly.
He remained silent, watching the motley crew work. They argued, agreed, and argued some more, and Storm never stopped any one of them from voicing his opinions. She showed them all respect, as they did her.
“What say you?” William asked, turning to Storm.
“We all agree on one thing—that Cullen, if it is him, cannot survive much longer. The rescue attempt must be immediate if he is to be found alive.”
The men nodded their agreement.
“Which means we cannot waste another minute,” Philip said and stood. William rose with him.
“You need to rest first,” Burke said.
“The few hours they rest could mean your brother’s life,” Storm said. “Are you willing to risk that?”
“It’s as much a risk sending them on little rest. A couple of hours’ sleep should help revive them and then they can be off.”
“It also could be enough time for the soldiers to regroup and return,” Storm suggested. “So which then is the better choice?”
“Are you leaving the decision to me?” Burke asked, surprised.
“He’s your brother.”
She hadn’t considered that when she made the decision to send the men in the first place. She hadn’t even consulted him, so why did she do so now?
“Let the men rest,” he said.
Storm nodded and looked to William and Philip. “You leave shortly; get ready.”
Burke jumped to his feet, the two men hurried off, and the other men drifted away from the campfire.
“Why give me a choice when you had no intention of honoring it?” That he was annoyed resonated in his gruff tone and his stoic stance.
“I wanted to see what you would do.”
She sounded as if she judged him, and his annoyance grew. “And you don’t like what I did?”
“You thought of the men, not the prisoner.”
“I thought of both.”
“There is only one who can be considered,” she said sharply. “His life depends on it.”
“If the men are too tired—”
“They’ll get over it and do what they must.”
“Like Tanin?” Burke challenged.
To his surprise, she smiled.
“Are you angry because Tanin did what was necessary and you could not?”
That fired his defenses. “I would not have slapped you. I would have handled it differently.”
“And gotten the same immediate results?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I need my men to follow my orders without hesitation. It could mean the safety or loss of a life or lives. Each one of them understands this and does what he is told. You, Mr. Longton, find it impossible to do.”
“There is a simple answer for that, Storm.”
“And what is that?”
“I don’t follow; I lead.”