Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1) (15 page)

Locking one arm in place behind him, he waited for his vision to fade from white.  The wind picked up, whipping at his face, cooling the sweat running down his neck.  He stuck the tip of the blade into his breeches and sliced a line through the cloth from the wound to the top of his stockings.  Pulling the material apart, he got a good look at the puncture.  A red stream bubbled like a fresh well.  He would have to get the bleeding to stop, or he would bleed to death in the field. 

He tucked one strap under his thigh and drew it toward the other.  Tying it in a loop, he pulled it tight enough to keep the blood moving through his leg, but only trickle from the two inch hole.  Although his limb was warm to the touch, he re-sheathed his knife, and breathed a deep sigh.  He wouldn't have to cauterize the wound, but the field dressing wasn't going to last long.

The pitch fork lay to his side.  He gripped it by the handle and leveraged himself to his good knee.  Stiff-legged, he pushed up, and the tines sank into the ground under the uneven pressure.  He stood to his feet.  The field swirled upward, and he pitched off center.  Stumbling sideways, he leaned on the handle and caught himself from falling.  He stood as unsure as a baby contemplating their first step.  He wouldn't know how well he could walk, until he moved his foot forward.  With any luck, his leg would be able to bear some of his weight. 

With thoughts of Faith set in front of him, Aidan shuffled forward.  Sweat covered his body, and his knee buckled.  Falling to the ground, he tried to keep his wound free of the dirt.  He had learned that injuries healed faster if kept clean.  His open hands smashed into the soil, and pain shot through his shoulders.  Staring into the field he tried to protect, he breathed harder.  Water droplets dripped from the ends of his hair, soaking into the straw.  He looked in the direction of the house.  If Hank was back in his stall, Faith would know something had happened and come look for him.  Encouraged by a small glimmer of hope, Aidan climbed back to his feet.  He dragged his hand across his brow and then repositioned the pitch fork under his arm.   

****

Leaves twirled and tumbled in front of Aidan, their normally crisp sounds mute to his ear.  Numb to anything other than his forward motion, he focused his attention on his bare thigh and willed it to continue moving.  Blood caked his leg, covering it in red stickiness.  Black hairs poked through the streaks like tree branches in a flood.  Placing his boot next to his makeshift crutch, his leather sole slid atop a flattened stone.  He winced and dragged his good leg forward, hobbling another step.  He didn't dare stop.  If he did, Faith would find him in this spot, dead, and his body ravaged by wild animals. 

He lifted his gaze and peered out from under sweat drenched strands of hair.  In front of him, a gray wolf peered through the trees, watching him.  Aidan blinked and angled his head.  He hoped the second set of eyes near the predator was an illusion.  He didn't have the strength to fight off a vicious animal, let alone a pack.  As long as he kept moving, he might be able to keep them at bay.  He touched his hand to his side.  His knife was still within easy reach. 

Light flashed off of the river, and Aidan turned his head toward the glimmer.  His vision had dimmed on occasion, but the sparkle from the flowing water had been enough to keep him alert.  Ahead of him was an unencumbered approach to the shore.  He limped toward it.  His tongue flicked out over his lips.  Moisture had left his mouth an hour ago.  With a wary eye on the woods, he lowered himself to the ground and scooped a handful of water.  Unable to get his fill, he shoved his head under the surface and sucked deep mouthfuls of sweet liquid.  Not bothering to fling the excess droplets from his hair, he let the rivulets drain into his shirt.  It was the coolest he had been since last night's swim with Faith.

A deep growl sounded behind him, and he jerked around.  The wolf, although alone, stepped onto the roadway.  Aidan scrambled to his feet.  With the river behind him and rough terrain on two sides, the wolf blocked his only exit. 

"Damn," he said.

How could he have allowed himself to not stay watchful?  He balanced on one foot and held the pitch fork tines in front of him.  His strength returned at an alarming rate.  From the way the edges of his vision fluttered to white, he would not be able to prolong what he needed to do.  He would have to take the aggressive and not wait for the wolf to attack.   

He thrust the handle forward and inched his way to his left.  Gnarled roots spiked in the air, protruding from the base of a fallen tree.  The wolf edged closer, a confused look in its eyes.  Aidan was certainly not his first prey, but from the way his ribs poked from the sides of his thin torso, he had not eaten recently.  If he was as weak as Aidan, at least they would be more evenly matched.

The wolf's snarled lip rose above yellowed teeth, pointy and sharp.  Foam and saliva dripped from lethal looking fangs.  He pounced, bouncing forward two steps, his intent clear.  Aidan refused to glance anywhere but stared straight ahead.  A natural killer, not only did this predator hunt from instinct, he appeared rabid.  He needed only the slightest of advantages to strike.  This was one weapon Aidan planned to keep in his arsenal. 

Aidan inched backward, hoping to lean against the stump for support.  He didn't need to try and balance on one leg while fighting off a wild animal.  Before he planted his hip next to the trunk, the wolf lurched.  Aidan threw the pitch fork.  Twisting, he crashed into the river.  A fresh pain bit into his leg, attacking his wound like a dull, saw blade.  There seemed to be nothing that would ease his agony.  He kicked with his good leg and pulled his arms, clawing his way to the surface.  Of all places for him to stop for a drink, he had to rest at the shore with the deepest drop.  It had seemed a good idea at the time, offering the cleanest water.  Now, the depth, combined with his fatigue, might finish what the wolf had started.

A broken limb from the tree floated next to him, and Aidan grabbed hold, clutching it to his chest.  He may not have the strength needed to reach the shore, but he could hang on to the driftwood until the current washed him on shore.  With any luck, he could end up in the pool near his home.  If he could keep from drowning, he might be able to get home quicker than if he had walked.

Spun sideways, movement on the shore caught his attention.  Aidan leveraged his shoulder and pushed his head above water for a better view.  The wolf trotted back into the woods.  At least Aidan wouldn't have to deal with rabies or a wolf attack.  Drowning did seem the better option.

Chapter 15

Thunder rumbled in the distance.  The rain had fallen in a light but steady downpour, ending an hour ago.  Faith pulled the ends of her shawl around her shoulders.  Although the days were still warm, there was a nice chill in the evening air, especially after a rainstorm.  She walked to the window and peered out.  Evening light faded, and darkness fell around the cabin.  There would most likely be no moon tonight. 

Faith looked at her reflection in the glass.  In her imagination, she could see Hope's lust-filled eyes, blinking back at her.  There was a depth of mischief that always skimmed the surface of her sister's blue eyes.  The dark haired beauty charmed everyone she met, but her intentions were always self serving.  Faith loved all of her sister's dearly, but that didn't mean she agreed with their opinions.  No one in the family agreed with how Hope chose to live her life. 

Hope had shared openly her appreciation for Aidan's physique.  Faith shifted her shoulders, bothered with the way Hope had described him, speaking as though she relied on intimate knowledge for her details.  Faith stared through the image and into the darkness.  No one had to remind her of how handsome her husband was.  One glimpse at him verified everything Hope had said.  Still, it was no one else's place to know such things. 

These uncomfortable thoughts had triggered a series of emotions Faith preferred to not consider.  She had not thought about it before now, but thanks to Hope's meddling, Faith wondered how many other women shared the same thoughts as her sister.  Tears welled in her eyes.  She had denied Aidan the right to share her bed.  She hoped her refusal had not sent him in search of someone else. 

If he chose to seek another woman's bed, he wouldn't have to wander far.  Hope was not a woman who would let a marriage certificate stop her from enjoying a man's company, even if the license bore her sister's name.  She had left for home at mid-day, and could have easily taken the route that led by the fields.  Faith wiped her eyes, hating the way the tears burned her cheeks and more importantly, the reason for them.  Surely Aidan wasn't so deprived that he would turn to another woman after one argument. 

Her shawl dropped from her shoulders, and she turned and faced the room.  The table was set for dinner, just as it had been for the noon meal.  The food had grown cold waiting for him to return home.  Kitchen cloths now covered the biscuits, and the kettle, which held their stew, hung on a hook away from the fire.  The evening meal's fate seemed to be as inevitable as the noon meal. 

Aidan should have been home hours ago.  He had seemed determined to get the field covered.  Rain would not dissuade him.  Even if he had sat out the storm, he should have emptied the cart before now.  She had gone to the barn earlier today to see if Hank had returned.  Although the horse and Aidan were not there, everything else seemed to be in place.  No dangerous tools were needed for this job, removing her concern that he may have been injured.  Hank had misbehaved when she rode him, but strapped to a cart, the horse would not be able to act out. 

No, she thought.  Aidan's prolonged absence could only be the result of his response to her outburst.  She readily accepted the guilt for her actions, but regardless of the blame, he didn't need to stay away so long.  She snatched the lamp handle and stomped toward the bedroom.  The light swung shadows from one wall to the other.  Passing in front of the fireplace, she cast a sideways look at the glowing embers.  She had planned to stoke the fire back to life when he returned home.  Already convicting him of adulteress activities, she sentenced him to an unreceptive homecoming.  The warmth in the hearth could burn completely out.  She would not keep his food warm this time.  He could eat it cold, or not at all. 

A noise from outside the house stopped the celebration of her verdict, chilling her to the core.  She turned slowly and looked over her shoulder.  The mournful sound drew closer.  Her heart sped up as she walked past the table and moved toward the door.  Afraid to look out the window, she edged closer to the entrance.  The moan repeated. 

The farm animals were confined to the barn.  She had seen to their care and safety before the storm.  If a wild animal had been injured and was outside her door, even if she had a means to help it, she didn't dare touch it.  She would stay confined to the house until it was no longer a threat. 

Aidan's rifle leaned against the corner of the room.  It might be wise to keep his weapon near.  She reached for it.  Her fingers wrapped easily around the cold barrel, fitting more comfortably in her grip than she would have liked.  The metal chilled her hand, not only matching her temperature inside and out, but adding to her discomfort.  She could only guess if the gun she held was loaded.  There was no time to check the fill.  She pulled the stock to her hip, and moved away from the far wall. 

"Fai--"  A voice moaned from outside the house.

"Aidan?" Faith said, relieved that the sound was not a wild animal.

Faith ran to the door.  His words had never sounded so slurred, sparking previous thoughts of an illicit liaison.  For his own sake, she hoped he wasn't drunk.  She leaned the rifle against the wall and prepared to give him a sound, tongue lashing.  She yanked the door open, her mouth already forming the words that would sober any lingering, alcoholic effects. 

A cool blast of fresh air blew into her face, but no one stood in her line of vision.  She had expected to see a swaggering man with bloodshot eyes facing her, an insipid grin on his face.  Instead of the lush she had imagined to find, Aidan lay face down on the steps. 

"Aidan?  Have you been drinking?" she asked.  "If you have, you can sleep on that step because you certainly aren't sleeping with me." 

She rolled her eyes and removed her hands from her hips.  How quickly she had forgotten the guilt that had wracked her only five minutes ago when she would have done anything for his return.  Now, she threatened him with the very stipulation that had most likely kept him away from home all day.  This was not how to amend an argument.

She tossed her anger to the side and bent over him.  Lifting his shoulder, she tried to wedge his chest off of the porch. 

"Forgive me.  I've had a trying day," he said. 

Aidan wrapped his arm around her waist and pushed himself to one knee.  The corner of his mouth lifted as though she had said something peculiar.  Not fully to his feet, he cried out and fell to the floor, toppling her with him.

His body burned with fever against hers, and the smell radiating from him was more metallic than corn squeezed.  She rolled him off of her and then hurried for a lamp.  Even if Aidan had done all of the things she accused him of, he would never have risked injuring her.  Something much more serious than an indiscretion had caused his collapse.