Chapter thirteen
Pain exploded across my scalp as my captor fisted my hair and slammed me into the outside of the cave wall, hard enough to blur my vision. The world tilted sickeningly. Cold stone scraped my shoulder, and the smell of damp earth and stale sweat filled my lungs as I struggled to draw breath.
“Ye little bitch,” he snarled, his foul breath hot on my face. “Did ye truly think ye could escape me?”
I twisted violently beneath him, clawing at his wrist. “Of course, I thought I could escape ye, ye foul beast!” I bellowed. “And I would have, if ye’re damned horse had nae thrown me!” I glared at the traitorous horse, then screamed, “Release me!”
“I should have taken ye the moment the weather forced us into the cave,” he hissed. “I imagine a pretty healer like ye has bedded more than yer share of men.”
This was the most the man had said to me since taking me, and I froze, shocked by his revelation. He knew I was a healer. Had he been hunting me for the king, as James had? If so, I might be able to use that. “The king will nae like it if ye abuse me.”
The man barked out a laugh, jerked me around to face him, and the lust in his eyes made my skin crawl. He brought his face a hairsbreadth from mine. “The king cares only if ye heal his daughter. Nae who beds ye, Katreine.”
Fear coursed through me, sharp and cold, but rage followed swiftly behind. I drove my knee upward. He cursed as it struck his thigh, though not hard enough. His grip tightened painfully in my hair, and a cruel smile twisted his lips. “I’m going to enjoy riding ye, lass.”
I was scared, for certain, but I’d not let him see it. I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’d rather die than let ye touch me.”
His eyes darkened with cruel amusement. “Aye? We shall see.”
Terror clawed at my chest as he shoved me to the ground. I fought wildly, kicking and twisting, but he outweighed me badly, and exhaustion from the ride had weakened me. Panic rose swiftly, nearly choking me.
Where was James? The thought of him, of the rescue I’d hoped for, made my chest ache.
I’d left him drugged and unconscious in that cave, and now all I could think was that I wanted him here.
Wanted his steady strength. The rough sound of his voice.
The safety I’d foolishly begun to associate with him.
Siward forced me to the ground, and I got a hand free and struck him across the face hard enough to sting my palm.
His expression turned murderous, and he reared his hand back to hit me, I was sure, but suddenly his name was bellowed through the silence, and the rage in the word filled me with relief. It was James.
“Siward!” James yelled again.
Siward swore under his breath and released me.
I scrambled backward and to my feet just as James appeared on his destrier, riding hard toward us.
My heart lurched. For a suspended moment, James looked less like a man and more like an ancient god of war, riding to destroy all in his path.
Cold mist curled around him. Rain darkened his plaid and gleamed on the blade already in his hand.
The closer he came, the more fury etched his features.
His gaze locked on me first. As it had been since the moment I met him, I could feel him assessing me, taking in my ripped gown, my split lip from the struggle with Siward, and my bodice hanging half open.
His attention swung to Siward, but mine was on James, and I saw the bloodlust come over him.
It was chilling and oddly comforting. He would do whatever it took to protect me.
“James,” I heard myself breathe.
Siward laughed harshly. “Well, now. Looks like the bastard tracked us after all.”
James was off his horse and coming for Siward in a blur. “I’ll kill ye for touching her.”
The deadly calm in his voice frightened even me.
Siward drew his blade and beckoned James forward with his palm. “She’s worth a king’s ransom, is she nae? I think I’ll keep her for myself, but I’ll be happy to rid myself of ye as I rid myself of Dugga.”
James moved then, and by the gods, I’d never seen anything so terrifying.
He came at Siward in a blur of violence, his sword crashing into Siward’s hard enough to send sparks flying.
The force of the strike drove Siward back as steel rang deafeningly through the forest. Siward slashed at James’s ribs, but James twisted aside with brutal speed and drove his shoulder into Siward’s chest, sending both men crashing into the stone wall.
I scrambled further back, heart hammering as they fought like beasts rather than men.
Mud and rainwater flew as Siward swung wildly, fury twisting his face, but James fought with cold, lethal focus. Siward lunged, and James caught Siward’s sword arm and slammed him hard into the wall again. “Ye touched her,” James snarled.
The raw fury and fear in James’s voice stole my breath.
He was truly afraid for me, conjuring what Siward might have done to me if James had not found me.
Was I imagining it? There was no time to linger on the question, because just then, Siward drove his knee into James’s stomach.
With a grunt, James staggered back a step as Siward lunged, blade in hand, toward James’s throat.
I screamed, but James ducked and plowed into Siward’s legs. They crashed backward into the mud, and Siward dropped his sword with a curse as James gained his feet and pointed his sword at Siward’s chest.
“James, nay!” I said, the part of me that healed so many, not wanting to be the cause of anyone’s death, even one as vile as Siward.
“He’ll nae quit coming for ye,” James said, the tip of his sword pressing against Siward’s chest. Blood bloomed there, a dark red promise of death to come.
I rushed to James’s side. “I can drug him, and we can tie him up and get so far away from him that he will nae catch us.” When James started to shake his head, I put a hand on his arm to plead with him.
His gaze flicked to mine for one breath, and the tenderness in his eyes shook me to my core.
But then, from the corner of my eye, Siward kicked out at James’s sword, filling my line of sight.
James’s weapon flew from his grip, and as he reached to his side for what I realized was a dagger sheathed there, Siward drove the dagger in his hand hard and straight into James’s half-healed wound.
James made a rough sound of pain and staggered violently.
“Nay!” I screamed as everything inside me went cold. Blood bloomed across James’s side, and he dropped to one knee, his eyes locking onto mine as if to say goodbye.
“I thank ye for the distraction ye provided,” Siward snarled, bending to grab his sword.
“James,” Siward said, grunting as he leaned upside down to reach his sword’s handle, “I’ll put yer head on a spike so nae one forgets ye.
” Something inside me snapped. One thought filled my head and heart: to save James.
I lunged forward, tore James’s dagger from the sheath at his waist, and swiveled toward Siward, who was still leaning over, grasping his sword.
He never saw me coming. I drove the blade into the back of his neck with every ounce of strength I had, shuddering as it sank deep.
Siward gasped, dropped his sword, and collapsed face-first into the mud.
Silence crashed down around me, and a violent tremble took hold as I stared at his unmoving body. I had stabbed a man, and based on his stillness and the amount of blood from his wound, I was sure I’d killed him. I’d killed to save James. James!
I jerked around to face him and rushed toward him just as he toppled forward. I fell to my knees before him, catching his arms before he hit the mud face-first. He was heavy, and I had to dig my toes into the dirt to keep from sliding backward under his weight.
His gaze swept wildly over my face, my throat, and my torn gown. “Did he touch ye?” he demanded, his voice rough and shaking. “Tell me.”
The panic in his eyes stole my breath. “Nay,” I whispered quickly. “Nay, James.”
His entire body sagged heavily as his eyelids fluttered closed. I could not hold him up any longer. I fell to the side and did my best to bring him with me. He landed on his dagger, still planted in his wound, with blood seeping from it.
“James!” I cried, scrambling to my knees before him. I had to save him. Blind fear drove me as I gripped the dagger and yanked it out.
“God’s blood,” he muttered, eyelids fluttering open as his gaze found mine. His face twisted in pain. “Are ye trying to kill me?”
I laughed even as I began to cry. “Nay, ye clot-heid. Ye are nae aloud to die on me,” I said, pressing my skirt against his wound, which bled.
“A scratch,” he tried to assure me, even as his eyelids fluttered closed once more.
As my mind raced with what to do, a deep realization washed over me. He had come for me, tracked me through a storm to find me, and fought like a madman to save me. He could die for me. No one had ever done such a thing for me. No one.
He reached up then, eyelids opening just barely as he brushed my cheek, as if reassuring himself I was truly there. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything.” Then his arm fell heavy to his side, and his eyes rolled back.
Panic exploded through me. “James!” I shook him hard. “James, open yer eyes!”
He neither answered nor moved, and fear, unlike anything I had ever known, clawed through me. It wasn’t fear of being alone. It was fear that the thought of losing him felt unbearable, as if threads already bound us. It was exactly what I had not wanted, and it had begun to happen anyway.
“Morgana!” I screamed, angry at the witch, at myself, at my fate, and at the gods for bringing this man to me when I still could not allow love to take root.
But anger would not save James, so I staggered to my feet to find what I needed and to keep the man alive, the one I could likely love, if only I could allow it.