Chapter Thirty-Seven
The noise and the fire had gone somewhere far off. Aidan knew his ranch was burning down around him and could not make himself care about it. He was going to take Black in his bare hands and snap him in half like a dry twig.
Then the knife opened him along the ribs, a bright icy line in the middle of all that heat, and the world came back. His knees buckled. His arms hung heavy in the grip of the two men holding him up.
The sun was down and the sky going dark, but he could still see Kevin Black’s face, and after a moment it was the only thing he could see at all.
Black turned to the side and spat. “I think you broke my nose, you ingrate.”
Aidan managed a smile. “Good,” he said. “Something to remember us by.”
Black glared at Aidan, his mouth curling into a cruel smile. “How very generous of you,” he said, his voice smooth. “As you are so fond of imparting gifts, how about I leave you with one?”
Black stepped closer, toying with his knife.
He tapped it on his lips as he pretended to think.
“I know,” he said, his face brightening.
“You’ve always thought you were the funny one, the one who had an answer for everything—how about I just carve a permanent smile onto your face?
Let’s see how much that little wife of yours likes you then. ”
Black pushed Aidan’s forehead back, forcing him to look up at him. “What?” Black said mockingly. “No cutting remark, no glib retort? No matter. I’ll fix you right up.”
Aidan swallowed hard and pulled weakly against the men holding him, but his body simply would not obey. He refused to give Black the satisfaction, and settled instead on glaring up at him, ignoring the knife entirely.
Black was leaning over, the blood from his nose dripping down his face, so close that Aidan could headbutt him if he got the energy to do it. He braced himself, ready for the stinging kiss of the knife. He closed his eyes just a bit too long to be a blink, and thought of Alexandra.
At least they’re safe, he thought. He’d heard the back door go while Black was still coming up the lane. She’s a fierce little thing, he thought affectionately.
He opened his eyes, ready to accept whatever fate had in store for him. Black, his face twisted into cruel amusement, leaned over him, and then he was simply gone.
Aidan blinked, his mind slow from the smoke and his injuries. His brain played back the moment for him: Black, wielding his knife; his henchmen cackling and hooting encouragement; and then, from out of the dark, Alexandra came barreling toward him, colliding with him.
She shoved him as hard as she could, which turned out to be a good deal. His slender body went sprawling, landing in the dirt in a gangly heap. She was panting, half-bent over and one hand to her ribs. Everyone froze and stared at her as she straightened up.
She turned to the men holding Aidan and lifted her arm, revealing the gun in her hand.
“Let. Him. Go,” she said between clenched teeth.
When they didn’t move, she reached up with her other hand and pulled the hammer back on the gun with an audible click.
“I said, let him go!” she screamed, her voice hoarse from the exertion and the smoke.
The men dropped Aidan’s arms and backed away a couple of steps. Aidan curled up, putting a hand to his side where Black had stabbed him. The pain brought him back to full awareness. Beyond Alexandra, Black had righted himself, the knife in front of him.
“You little—” he growled.
Alexandra rounded on him, her face magnificent in its fury. “Don’t you move. You get back on your horse and ride away, right now,” she demanded.
Black laughed. If Aidan had the strength, he’d have told him what a mistake that was. “Who do you think you are?” Black asked. “I bet you don’t even know how to fire that thing,” he continued, prowling closer. “Look at you—you can barely hold it.”
“You’re right,” Alexandra agreed, matching his easy, chummy tone with false brightness of her own.
“I’m such a weak, sad little girl, holding this big, scary gun—why, it could accidentally go off at any moment.
” To illustrate her point, she squeezed the trigger.
The shot went astray, hitting the dirt near Black’s feet.
“Clumsy me!” Alexandra said with a smile full of wolf’s teeth.
All the friendliness went out of Black’s face at once. “You could have hit me!” he growled.
“You’re right,” Alexandra replied, pulling the hammer on the gun back again. “You’d best skedaddle before I do it again. I might not miss this time.”
Black looked at her, weighing his odds. “You’ll get hanged for shooting an unarmed man,” he said, pulling his jacket back to reveal that he wasn’t wearing a gun.
Aidan made a sound in his throat. It was the same jacket, pulled the same way, and it had worked on him not ten minutes before—he had put his own rifle down in the dirt over that exact argument.
“I doubt it,” Alexandra retorted. “You, a known scoundrel, and me, the lawful wife of a respectable man, who was protecting her home and family? They’d throw me a parade,” she said with a cold confidence that perfectly mirrored Black’s.
Aidan smiled. She knew exactly where to press.
“We’ll go,” Black said, lifting his chin. “We’ll be taking all of your horses with us,” he announced. At a raised hand from Black, some of his cohorts opened the gate to the front pasture. The horses, terrified, streamed out in a river of hooves and white-rimmed eyes.
One of the men who had been holding Aidan made as if to take Cyprus. Alexandra trained the gun on him and shook her head. He backed away slowly, letting the reins drop. The men retreated to their horses, vanishing into the night until only Black was left.
“You know,” he said to Alexandra conversationally, as if they were passing a friendly hour together, “you’ve got more fire in you than I thought you did—you’re too much woman for this sad excuse for a man. Come and find me if you want a real husband,” he said with a leer.
Alexandra’s lip curled in disgust, which made Black laugh.
“Till we meet again, my pretty little bird,” he said. Still laughing, he wheeled his horse around and spurred it into the night, after his men.
Alexandra didn’t move until they were gone. Aidan watched them, his vision darkening around the edges. The whole world felt like a poorly developed tintype.
“Aidan!” Alexandra cried, suddenly before him. He felt her hands on his face, and he was glad for the support. Her face was lined with worry and soot, tears making clean tracks down her cheeks. “Can you move?”
“Sure,” he said, but his voice sounded far away to himself. He tried to stand, but his legs were as wobbly as a foal’s.
A piercing cry rent the air, and his eyes shifted to Cyprus. He was still hitched to the porch, pulling fiercely against his tether as the house began to burn in earnest. “Save him,” Aidan croaked.
Alexandra nodded and moved to do as he asked, but Aidan caught her by the arm. “Get hold of his head,” he instructed. “He’ll try to run off on you—pull him into a circle, nice and tight, and get him facing away from the fire.”
Alexandra nodded again, her face determined. She tucked the gun into her waistband. She took the bridle firmly in her hand before releasing Cyprus, and immediately pulled his head around so that he was forced into a small circle.
She hurried back over to Aidan, Cyprus trotting and snorting alongside her.
“Come on,” she said to Aidan, taking him by the arm that wasn’t clutched to his side. “We have to get away from the house. You have to stand,” she ordered. She got herself under his arm, and together, they rose as one.
He leaned heavily on her, making her stumble. With a grunt and gritted teeth, she righted herself, but only made it two more steps before he faltered again.
“Come on, Cyprus,” she said, shifting Aidan’s arm so that it was over the horse’s neck. “You’ve got to help me,” she said, taking the horse by the bridle and staring directly into his eye. “Help me carry him.”
Aidan would have liked to tell her that Cyprus was a horse and that he didn’t understand English, but his lips were numb and unresponsive.
They limped their way forward, with him holding as best he could to the horse’s neck. The cabin, his old home, was within sight. The fire behind them lit the way, the house acting like a terrible beacon. The flames reflected in the windows of the cabin, which had escaped notice.
“You’ve got to watch for embers,” he mumbled.
“Don’t worry,” Alexandra said, huffing and coughing. “He came up out of that cellar the minute it went quiet, and I couldn’t get him back down it. Danny’s watching for them.”
He’s too young, Aidan tried to say, but found that he couldn’t. He had a lot of things he wanted to say. Still, the world had tipped up on its side: the ground was next to his shoulder, and the sky was spread above him like a dark indigo blanket.
“Aidan!” Alexandra cried. Her face swam into view as she leaned over him. Stars twinkled above her, just coming into view for the night, shining through the haze of smoke. It looked like a crown on her head.
Isn’t that fine, he thought distantly, tiredly. It’s not so bad if that’s the last thing I ever see.
“Aidan!” Alexandra said again, but her voice had grown farther away.
And then there was nothing at all.