Prologue #3
The guilt returned. Annaleigh came around the front of him, looking at him as he lay on the cold, damp earth.
The way he was laying certainly couldn’t have been comfortable.
His head in particular was on wet earth, mud in his hair and on the side of his face.
Setting her basket down, she went around the back of him again and knelt by his head.
Pulling off the shawl that was tied around her shoulders, a piece of soft lamb’s wool that she’d embroidered herself, she balled it up and gently lifted his head, slipping it underneath so he had something comfortable to rest his head on.
“There,” she murmured. “I canna do any more for ye, War, but mayhap that will help a little.”
He closed his eyes, feeling the softness and warmth against his cold and dirty cheek. “Once again, I am grateful for your kindness,” he muttered. “You did not have to.”
“I know. And that is why I did it.”
“I shall not forget it.”
Annaleigh was prevented from answering because she could hear men’s voices in the distance.
Scot voices. They were coming closer. She knew enough about warfare to know that if they came into the thicket and found the English knight, they would kill him and, somehow, she didn’t want that to happen.
Perhaps because she’d tried to help him, perhaps because she had caused all of this, she wasn’t certain her reasons.
All she knew was that she had to make sure they didn’t find him.
Grasping her basket, she trudged up the banks of the thicket, out into the meadow that was warming under the new morning sun. Immediately, she could see a group of Scotsmen, mostly looking at the dead around them, but when they saw her coming out of the trees, they shouted.
“Annie!” It was her brother, Robbie. “Where’d ye come from?”
Annaleigh gestured to the trees behind her. “Back there,” she said. “Ma told me tae look for wounded.”
She held up her basket, showing them that she was carrying bandages and such to tend to the Scots injured, and the men started heading in her direction.
“Did ye find any in there?” Robbie asked.
Annaleigh shook her head. “Nay,” she lied. “No one. We saw fighting near the river, but no bodies. Did the English carry their dead away, then?”
Robert Scott came to a halt, eyeing his petite younger sister.
She was a stunning creature with big, green eyes and curly, red hair that tumbled to her knees in an unruly and glistening mass.
She was also well-loved, which was why they’d summoned an army to punish those who had accosted her.
It had been costly, but no one would complain.
If that’s what they had to do to avenge their womenfolk against the English, they’d do it happily.
“The English dunna want their wounded tae fall victim tae the scavengers.” He lifted a hand up to shield the bright morning sun from his eyes. “I suppose ye can tend the wounded out here. There are enough tae go around.”
The men with Robbie started to wander away, picking through the dead, trying to figure out where to start with collecting the bodies, but Annaleigh reached out and grasped her brother’s arm before he could get away.
“Come with me,” she said. “Ye can help me. Are men coming with litters tae carry off the wounded?”
Robbie nodded, glancing to the north where the remains of their army was gathered. “They’ll come,” he said. Then, he sighed heavily as he looked around. “The lads fought valiantly. I was proud tae be at their side.”
Annaleigh looked around, too. All she saw was carnage that she had caused. “So many… lads dead or dying,” she murmured, blinking away the tears. “Oh, Robbie, why did ye have tae do it? I dinna want this, all of these lads dying because of what happened. Their deaths are on me.”
Robbie’s jaw ticked faintly, trying to remain stoic while his sister wept. “Their deaths are on the English, not ye,” he said steadily. “We canna allow what they did tae go unpunished.”
“And all of these dead men are worth the price?”
“I’d kill a thousand Sassenach myself tae keep ye safe,” he said with deadly conviction.
But he looked at his sister and saw that the entire situation had upset her sensitive soul deeply.
She was such a caring creature. He grasped her wrist and gave her a tug.
“Come on, cearc. Let’s find those proud lads in need. ”
Cearc. It meant “chicken” in Gaelic, something he’d called her since they were children.
Robbie was a good older brother, a little reckless at times, but loyal to the bone.
He also hated the English with a passion so it was a good thing they were heading away from the thicket.
If he discovered his sweet little sister had lied to him, things would not go well for her.
Annaleigh knew that very well.
As the morning deepened, she followed her brother into the fields of the dead and dying Scots, leaving a dying English knight somewhere back in the trees.
Even though Annaleigh was focused on helping her own people, still, her mind was lingering back with the big, bloodied Sassenach.
There was nothing more she could do for him other than make sure her kin didn’t find him still alive.
At least let the man die in peace.
Truly, she hoped it would be enough.