Chapter 11
His body responded to the threat before his mind could.
That was what Hunter told himself when he found himself atop Kira in the grass with a searing pain radiating through his shoulder.
There wasn’t time to think or focus on his injury, he needed to assess the enemy.
Raising up off the ground, he pulled Kira with him and kept her pulled tight into his chest.
With his other hand, he reached behind him and gritted his teeth as he pulled the arrow from his flesh. He longed to howl in pain, but he held it all in, just as he always did.
His hand pressed to the back of her head, keeping her from view of the assailant.
Just across the clearing was a rustling before a figure emerged.
In an instant, his blood was boiling at the sight of Duncan, the Fairbairn Captain.
He didn’t know the man well, but his face was one that was forever burned into his mind.
The righthand man of Laird Fairbairn, one that played a pivotal role in the downfall of the Galbraith family.
Even if he could forget Duncan’s rust-colored curls and dead, dark blue eyes, there would never be any denying the scar that indented his flesh from his nose to his ear.
One that Hunter himself had put on his face on that fateful day.
“Lil’ Hunty Galbraith. A man at last,” he called as he walked toward them. “Taking after yer faither, I see, in nay listening nor sticking to yer own affairs.”
“I handle my own business. I have nae meddled where I dinnae belong,” Hunter countered.
Duncan gave a dramatic glance down at Kira, and Hunter tightened his grip on Kira. “Do ye want to rephrase that? Try again entirely, perhaps.”
“No,” Hunter said confidently.
Duncan was close enough now that Hunter cursed under his breath. He couldn’t ensure Kira’s safety and fight Duncan off, especially not with his left shoulder screaming in agony.
“Ye’ll learn today why a lad like ye should never cross a man like Laird Fairbairn,” Duncan’s chuckled darkly.
Hunter gripped Kira and hoisted her onto Campion’s back, who was still loyally at their side. The pair only made eye contact long enough for him to say, “Go. Dinnae look back.” And then he gave Campion a slap on the backside to send them on their way.
Duncan called after her, “Worry nae, M’Lady! I’ll be with ye after I finish with this pathetic excuse of a Laird.”
The horse galloped away and left nothing but the two men standing there. Hunter’s eyes locked on his enemy—ready to fight to the death if the occasion so called for it. And judging by Duncan’s drawn dirk, it just might.
Kira’s mind was reeling over all that had just transpired but all of it, for the moment, was dimmed by the opportunity at hand. She was on Campion’s back, his reins in her hands, and no guards around to hunt her down. She could run and never look back.
Her pulse whooshed in her ears and her knuckles grew white as she gripped the reins.
Could it be her one chance at true freedom?
More than what even Rory had offered her.
The chance not to be someone’s daughter or someone’s wife, but a person.
A woman alone in the world would live a hard, dangerous life—but it would be hers.
She looked back, just as Hunter told her not to, and she pulled on Campion’s reins to bring him to a halt.
She watched from afar as the two men scrabbled.
Hunter was dodging the ferocious slashes of a blade with skill, but he wasn’t striking back.
Did he have something planned, or was it because his left arm was badly injured?
Telling herself that she shouldn’t care did little to nothing to make it feel true to her heart.
Because as she watched him dodge attacks and struggle to do anything to fight back beyond pushing him off balance a couple of times.
And the longer she watched, the more fear clawed at her flesh.
Hunter was in danger, real danger, and no one was around to help.
No one, except her.
In the span of one deep breath, Kira’s mind was made up. “I hope ye’ll forgive me for the fuss, Camp, but we’re going back,” she said to the horse. “Extra carrots will be in your trough tonight for yer good service.”
Kicking Campion into motion, she rode hard back to the scene. As she approached the two men, she kept Campion aimed just between them. The two looked up with just enough time to jump out of the way. She watched as Duncan lost his footing from the sudden movement and fell to the ground.
Kira turned to Hunter with wide eyes and a hand extended in his direction. “Hurry,” she instructed.
His gaze fell to her open hand and for a fraction of a second, she thought he would reject her. And then, his hand enveloped hers and used it as an anchor while his other arm quickly pulled him atop the horse. As soon as he was sat on the saddle, Kira kicked Campion again.
They rode back to the Keep at full speed, the wind knocking her hair all around and stinging her eyes.
Hunter held onto her with only one arm and she could feel that he was leaning into her for support with the way he felt slightly heavy against her back.
Her head was a mess of confusion, but her heart was clear.
She had made the right choice. All that was left to do was hope that they returned to the Keep alive.
The realization that her father was behind all of this weighed on her.
He wasn’t an honorable man. He didn’t strike head-on with pride and strength.
No, Laird Fairbairn was sly and cruel. There could be warriors hidden in the woods all around here and she would never know.
Her throat threatened to tighten from the fear.
If her father’s men captured her… She would rather be killed on the spot. And would they capture Hunter alive? What would come of him because of her?
She rode as fast as the horse could carry them, her eyes forever scanning the trees, her body braced for incoming attacks. Could she manage to shield Hunter if more arrows came? They might not get along, but she didn’t want him to get hurt more than he already was.
Seconds stretched to hours before Campion finally carried them right to the entrance of the Keep. As soon as she pulled him to a stop, she bellowed out, “The Laird has been hurt! Help me!”
There was a frenzy all around them then.
Warriors helped Hunter off the horse and carried him toward the infirmary while maids assessed Hunter’s condition to bring word to the infirmary before their arrival.
But then, in a surprising move, Kira pressed herself to Hunter’s side and wrapped an arm around his back to support him.
When she glanced up at him, his brows were furrowed in confusion, but there was something soft about his eyes.
He didn’t say anything but allowed his arm to hang around her shoulders.
The warriors asked their questions as they headed down the corridors. Hunter lifted his head and pointed back out through the doors. “Stop idling around me! Go find him! He’s in the far fields, he came from the tree line. Go!”
Kira’s heart pounded at his strength. Even in the pain he was in, he was still a Laird. He was going to be their strength even when he had to fake it.
When they crossed the threshold of the infirmary, healers were surrounding them and taking over supporting Hunter while they got him to a cot. She felt the weight of his body lift from her shoulders and she could feel her body lunge after him, wanting to be with him.
She stayed nearby, within arm’s reach of him, as the healers removed his sash and blouse. Kira’s knees felt weak at the sight of the blood. The wound looked deep, penetrating the muscular curve of his shoulder. And blood covered his back, the wound bleeding endlessly.
She stared at his face to look away from the gore.
His eyes were distant and his expression composed, but she could see the paleness of his cheeks.
He was hurting and weak, but he would never falter in the face of his people.
Kira couldn’t imagine the strength it took to sit there so poised while people cleaned and prodded at such a terrible wound.
He had fought for her while like this.
He was bleeding for her.
Something monumental shifted inside of Kira. It was like she could see Hunter clearly for the first time. He wasn’t a villain—he was strong, determined, and forever doing what he believed was right. Even if it meant he bled for someone he truly hated.
Kira didn’t think she would ever fully submit to a marriage that she was forced into, something in her spirit simply wouldn’t allow it.
But she knew then that even if their marriage was built upon a bedrock of hate, it wouldn’t be a prison sentence.
Edine had been right—Hunter would take care of her because she was his, and he was loyal to a fault.
She was witnessing that with her very own eyes at that exact moment.
Kira stood dutifully by his bedside the entire time his wound was cleaned, stitched, and bandaged.
Once it was done, he ordered the servants away, though the healers told him that he should rest there for at least a couple of hours to let his body recuperate from the blood loss.
He reluctantly lay back on the cot, ushering them away with a wave of his hand.
“Why are ye still here?” he asked, the question clearly pointed at Kira.
There was no banter to be had, not for Kira right then. She wanted the truth to be laid out in the open finally. Taking a seat on a small stool next to his cot, she folded her hands into her lap. “I had to make sure ye’re alright.”
“Well, ye’ve seen that now.”
His words weren’t dismissive or cold, but imploring. She studied his warm hazel eyes as she finally held tight to her courage and spoke. “Ye saved my life, M’Laird. And I believe the best way to repay that kindness is with a level of compliance. I will marry ye, without any further protest.”