She grabbed Fergus's arm. “Stop! Stop Fergus!” She leaped from the horse before the animal halted.
By the time Fergus reached her, she was cradling the head of a youth whose bright red curls were barely distinguishable from the filth and blood smeared in them. Thomas.
Fergus reached out and felt for a pulse. Kathryn searched frantically for wounds.
“He's gone, my lady. Nothing ye can do.”
Kathryn wept. She'd come to know him these last few weeksâ his freckled face nearly always smiling in amusement at life in general. She drew Thomas's limp body more firmly into her grasp, holding him even as she sat in the mud.
“Fergus, you must search for Bryan. Thomas,” she sobbed, “Thomas wouldn't leave Bryan, you know that. I'll stay with him.” Her voice broke. “Please, Fergus, quickly.”
Fergus gaped at her, obviously thunderstruck as the truth of her words hit him. They both knew that a squire protected his master's back, never left his side. And the loyalty went two ways. Bryan couldn't be far away.
“I can't leave ye, Kat. I can't. 'Tis much too dangerous.”
Kathryn rested her forehead on the top of Thomas' head. She must stay with the man until Fergus found Bryan. Then . . . then what? She would either have another man to bury or a husband to love. The sun went behind some clouds, and the day chilled.
Kathryn closed her eyes to the misery around her, closed her ears to the sounds, closed her heart to the pain.
BRYAN FOUND CERIN a short distance from where they'd parted company. Thomas was badly woundedâa Welshman's arrow had found its way through his chain mail and into a lung. He would not live out the day.
If Thomas had not been sitting behind Bryan . . . the arrow would have found him instead. He owed Thomas his life. The least he could do was take him from the battlefield as he'd entered itâ on horseback. Even if it was to simply die in camp rather than on a bloody battlefield.
He captured Cerin's reins and walked back toward Thomas with a heavy heart. Despite the retreat of the English, skirmishes continued across the valley between enemies, and the sights and sounds were unspeakable. But thankfully no one approached him. Bryan had had enough of war for today. For a lifetime.
He neared where he'd left his squire and thought his heart would break at the sight of Kathryn sitting there amidst the carnage. Her eyes were closed and she seemed lost in grief. Thomas must be dead, then. Bryan's throat tightened but he walked on to where Fergus stood watch over them both.
Bryan swallowed his pain and scowled at Fergus. “What is she doing on the battlefield?”
Fergus explained, “We came down the hill with the others and got separated. She was determined to find you. I found her wondering about and we were headed back to the camp when she found . . . Thomas. She willna turn him loose, my laird.”
They walked to where she sat, obviously stunned from all she'd seen even before she found Thomas. If only she would have listened to Bryan and stayed on the hill. It was one thing to see battle from a distance; quite another to see it up close. He would take her to task later. Now he needed to get herâget all of themâ off the battlefield before some other calamity arose.
“Come, Kathryn.” Bryan gently pried her fingers loose, then shifted the man from her lap. Bryan pulled her to her feet and held her.
“Bryan.” She trembled. “I thought you were dead, too,” she said, clinging fiercely to him.
“Hush, now,” he crooned. “I only went to get Cerin to carry Thomas. He died protecting me and I thought toâ”
“Holy saints above.” She pushed in agitation against Bryan and sensing what was coming, he deftly shifted her to the side and provided support while she emptied her stomach.
WHEN THE RETCHING SUBSIDED, Bryan wiped her brow. “Are you all right?”
She only nodded, not trusting her voice, or her stomach. If Thomas had died protecting Bryan . . . it didn't bear thinking how close she'd come to becoming a widow. She said a fervent prayer for Thomas's soul.
Bryan and Fergus gently wrapped Thomas in his plaid and laid him across Cerin. Even as more tears spilled down her face, Kathryn shifted toward Bryan and drank in the wonderful, sweaty, alive smell of him. She touched his chiseled cheek, his lips, the hair that peeked out from the back of his helmet. She marveled anew at the dark, thick lashes surrounding his brown eyes. She shuddered again at the thought of how near she had come to losing him.
She couldn't take her gaze from him. “You are not wounded?”
“Cuts and bruises, only, beloved.”
With a sigh, she pressed her lips to his, keeping her eyes open in order to feast upon the sight of him. His kiss was tender.
Fergus cleared his throat, reminding her they were not alone. And reminding her of the sad task awaiting them.
Bryan pulled away. “We need to leave the field, Kathryn. 'Tisn't safe to be distracted with the enemy so near. You ride the other horse, and Fergus and I will lead them.”
Fergus held both horses' reins so that Bryan could stand behind her and help her mount. His hands had barely touched her waist when Fergus cried out, “My laird, beware!”
Bryan spun around and pinned Kathryn behind him. The horse moved sideways, giving her room to peer around Bryan. There standing before them was Rodney Carleton, sword drawn and ready. She knew Bryan's desire for revenge ran deep, as did Rodney's, and that this fight had been inevitable from that first day in Homelea's bailey.
Quietly, she moved away from Bryan so he could remove the claymore he carried in a scabbard on his back.
NEVER UNDERESTIMATE AN ENEMY. Bruce's words came back to him once more as Bryan thought through his options. Praying that Fergus had remembered to carry the short sword Adam had given him during their lessons, Bryan said, “Kathryn, see to the horses.” To his relief she didn't hesitate, walking swiftly to Fergus and taking the reins. Now if she would just stay there and let him concentrate on killing this miserable Englishman.
Bryan reached over his shoulder and withdrew his sword, never taking his gaze off Carleton as he slowly moved away from Kathryn. Fergus moved with him, and Bryan was relieved to see the man indeed held the falchion in his hand. With any luck Fergus had developed some skill with the weapon. Fergus kept Bryan on the side with his bad eye, and seeing that, Bryan's confidence in Adam's training eased his anxiety.
Carleton said, “This is between you and me, Mackintosh. Call off your man.”
“You set the rules of engagement when you challenged two armed men, Carleton.”
“A one-eyed man isn't much of a challenge, but this isn't his fight. You are the one who has taken everything from me.”
“Fergus, stand aside. See to Lady Kathryn.” He turned back to Carleton; the ends of their swords nearly touched as Carleton worked his way closer. Bryan slowly sidestepped, trying to put himself between Rodney and Kathryn before engaging Rodney's sword.
They'd been on horseback the last time they met and the advantage had been Bryan's. Now on foot, Rodney's quickness gave him the upper hand. Bryan must wear him down, because strength and stamina were still on his side.
Fergus hadn't moved.
“Fergus, see to my wife!” Fergus hesitated, the need to engage Carleton and seek revenge for his damaged eye written upon his face. And in the moment that Bryan yelled at Fergus, Rodney abruptly lunged. Bryan engaged Rodney's blade and pushed it away. The heavy claymore was longer than Rodney's sword and placed Bryan's body out of range. But Rodney spun away to the right and in a lightning-fast move closed the distance and crashed the broadside of his blade against Bryan's temple.
The helmet rang, protecting Bryan from the worst of the blow but not enough to keep him from sinking to his knees, stunned and disoriented.
Never underestimate an enemy.
The last thing he heard was a ferocious howl from Fergus.
KATHRYN STARED AT BRYAN'S MOTIONLESS BODY and a fierce rage arose in her. Fergus raced into the breach forcing Rodney away from Bryan temporarily. Without thought she raced to her husband and pulled his sword from his lifeless hands. Barely able to hold its weight aloft, she stood guard over Bryan.
Fergus placed himself between her and Rodney and thrust his weapon at the man. They fought and Fergus managed to stay in front of Kathryn. He fought well for several minutes, not giving any ground. But Rodney's skill began to tell as he became more and more aggressive and backed Fergus so close she had to point the blade toward the ground for fear of harming him.
Finally Carleton sliced his sword across Fergus's blade and sent his weapon flying. With a shout of triumph, Carleton rushed toward them. Kathryn lifted her blade once more thinking to defend herself. Fergus sidestepped, lunging for his sword and clearing Rodney's way.
Only then did she realize Rodney's mistake. Unable to halt his forward momentum, he raised his arms and tried to twist out of the way. But he ran right into the point of the sword that Kathryn barely managed to hold upright. He cursed loudly.
If she had been stronger, the blade might have run through his leg, but all it did was cut him. The impact sent her onto her rump and the heavy sword fell to the ground. She grabbed it back up even as she sat there in the dirt and managed to lift it again. Rodney struggled to regain his balance and as he did so, his own sword barely missed Kathryn's trembling arms. She was going to have to put the heavy weapon down.
She heard hoof beats and feared the horses had taken off, frightened by the clashing weapons.
As she lowered the blade, Rodney grinned and stepped toward her, the tip of his sword perilously close to her neck. “Ah,” he said, “So the lady comes to her senses. Shall we . . .” He broke off, looking behind her, and cursed under his breath.
“Well, Sir Rodney, you've taken to fighting women have you?” said a familiar and most welcome voice. Adam, sword in hand, stood beside her. It had been his horse she heard. Kathryn breathed a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving.
“Get the horses, lady.”
Though she would have preferred to go to Bryan, she dared not distract Adam from this deadly game. She quickly backed away, went to the horses and picked up the reins, calming them before she turned back to watch the fight.
Adam made no effort to engage Rodney's blade, just circled and backed the other man toward Bryan's inert form where Fergus now kept guard.
But Rodney was too canny for anything so obvious and he moved to the right and away from Bryan. He could now see both men. With a dismissive glance toward Fergus, Rodney turned his attention to Adam. Some kind of signal must have passed between the two Scotsmen, because Adam engaged Rodney's sword and Fergus leaped toward Carleton, burying his short sword to the hilt in Rodney's abdomen. Rodney staggered, a look of astonishment on his face. He toppled to the ground and moaned once before laying still.
Kathryn threw the reins down. She ran to Bryan and knelt beside him, feeling his neck for a pulse and crying with relief when she found it. The blow had simply knocked him unconscious.
Fergus joined her at Bryan's side and Kathryn muttered, “Help me get this helmet off.”
They laid him flat and made him comfortable. His face was ashen but his breathing seemed normal.
The blow had sharply dented his helmet and despite all their care, the broken edges scraped Bryan's skin and left a bloody trail along his scalp when they removed it. A huge welt grew on the side of his head. With a stifled oath, Kathryn prayed the hardheadedness she'd so often accused him of would protect him now.
Adam sank down beside her. “If he doesn't come around soon, we'll have to get him on one of the horses and take him to shelter.”
“All right. Could you bring me some water, Fergus?”
“I'm not sure I can find any in the creek that isn't tainted, but I'll see what I can do.”
She remembered the bridge of bodies and knew he was probably right.
He moved off to do her bidding; Adam stood nearby with the horses.
Kathryn held Bryan's hand, gently rubbing the long, beautiful fingers. Fingers that so skillfully wielded the heavy claymore, now lay unmoving in her hand. Remembering her bridegroom's tender touch, she kissed the callused palm and tried unsuccessfully to hold back her tears.
She'd seen a villager die from a blow to the head. One could never tell with such an injury when or if the patient would awaken.
Hoping somehow he might hear her, she spoke to him. “Please, Bryan. You must wake up.”
Fergus brought her some relatively clean, cool water. She pulled a strip from her bandage pouch and dabbed Bryan's brow with it, then wound more around his head to stanch the flow of blood. Fergus and Adam held the horses and watched.
She prayed aloud. “Please, dear Savior. I cannot bear to lose him. I will never love another such as I do this man you've given me.” Kathryn held Bryan's hand and laid her cheek in his palm.
Just as she made to raise her head, Bryan's fingers stroked her hair. Afraid she'd imagined it she remained still. The fingers moved again. Her prayers had been answered! She leaned forward to place a kiss on his forehead.
“Bryan,” she called softly.
His eyelids fluttered.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered. She squeezed Bryan's hand and he weakly returned the pressure. Then she stared into his beautiful dark eyes, and her tears splashed his face.
“You are real, then,” he whispered, startling her with his voice as well as the words. Obviously tired from the exertion, Bryan recovery, she said, “We'll talk later. Let's get you on a horse and out of this mud.” closed his eyes. “'Twas your love that pulled me back, Kathryn. I could feel myself slipping but you wouldn't let go.”
Astounded by his words, grateful beyond measure for his recovery, she said, "We'll talk later. Let's get you on a horse and out
of this mud."