Warrior Untamed (11 page)

All the ridiculous fantasies she’d allowed herself to indulge in as she lay in his arms disappeared like
smoke on a blustery day. She’d never been much of a dreamer and she certainly was no fool. A landed man like him would never want someone like her for more than a quick night’s tumble.

And Bridget MacCulloch, daughter of the House MacUlagh, descended from the Ancient Seven, tumbled for no man. Especially not a man who could so easily break her heart.

If
she allowed him that power over her.

She rolled to her knees and placed her palm against his forehead, fighting to keep her roiling emotions in check.

“Fever’s completely gone. I think it’s best we get some sleep. We’ll want an early start.”

She crawled away from him and built a physical barrier between them by piling up the bags of provisions they traveled with.

If only she could build an emotional barrier as easily.

“Bridget?” He sounded confused, and she hardened her heart against the hurt in his voice.

“Go to sleep, Hall. Morning will be here soon enough, and we’ve a long way to travel to reach Orabilis on the morrow.”

She’d done herself proud. Only calm and determination rang in her voice. Not even the tiniest hint of the hurt eating away at her soul had escaped.

She would have to keep it so. It was her only hope against losing her heart and her soul.

K
EEP UP WITH
me, Hall. You can do this. We’ve no much farther to go now.”

Hall nodded his acceptance of Bridget’s encouragement, hoping he wouldn’t let her down. Fearing he already had.

She’d been distant since last night, when he’d confessed to her that his life was not his own to control. As he’d suspected, no woman, not even Bridget, wanted a man who was always gone, battling some new enemy, leaving her to a life of loneliness.

Not that it mattered now. He’d be lucky to live through the day, so worrying over how often Thor dispatched him to see to the welfare of one of his believers was of little consequence.

All he could do now was put her out of his mind and focus his efforts to stay alive. In the long run it was better this way, the way he had always known his life was meant to be.

What life he had left, anyway.

He couldn’t hold on much longer. Between keeping the rain at bay and the vile Magic eating its way
through his body, he’d about reached the limit of his strength. Pain radiated out from the wound and up into his neck. For the past several minutes, he couldn’t quite get that side of his face to work as it should. His eye drooped shut, no matter how hard he struggled to keep it open. His shoulder felt as if lightning bolts sawed back and forth within the wound, and that was with the bandage-wrapped jewels firmly in place.

Day three, the maximum extent of time the Faerie had allotted him.

He lifted his hand up toward the west, his shaky palm facing him. Four fingers’ distance remained between the sun and the horizon. On this last day Editha had given him to reach Rowan Cottage, maybe an hour of daylight remained, and he was fading fast.

The way he felt now, he wouldn’t last to see another sunset.

He tied a knot in the end of his reins, slipped them down over his head, and fitted them under his arms. When he lost consciousness, that precaution might at least keep him in the saddle. If he fell to the ground, he doubted Bridget’s ability to get him back on the horse, though he didn’t doubt her willingness to try.

The woman was stubborn to a fault. It was one of the traits he’d come to admire most in her. That and her temper.

“It willna be long now. We’re close,” Bridget called over her shoulder, continuing the repetitive encouragement she’d adopted over the past hour. “Oh, bother it all, the rains are back.”

So they were. He had no choice but to let something go, and it was taking everything he had left just to remain upright on his horse.

“Sorry,” he managed to mumble, but doubted she’d heard him. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard it himself.

He regretted all the people he’d be letting down. Regretted how angry Bridget would be that she hadn’t been able to get him to Rowan Cottage in time. Most of all, he regretted that he wouldn’t get to witness it. Nothing he’d ever seen was quite as beautiful as Bridget MacCulloch in full rage, her eyes sparkling with the fire of her emotions, her cheeks pink with the heat of her anger, her tongue honed to its sharpest point as she argued her case.

He would miss that.

The only thing he could think of that was more beautiful than Bridget in full fury was Bridget lying beneath him, her eyes unfocused with a need he was prepared to meet.

He didn’t want to leave that behind. Perhaps he could hang on just a bit longer . . . but no. Even as the thought flared, all control drained from his arms and his back began to buckle.

He pitched forward as if in slow motion, to bury his face in the wet hair on his mount’s neck.

B
EHIND HER, THE
sound of hoofbeats slowed to a stop and Brie huffed out an irritated breath. They’d stopped too often today already. If Hall didn’t get a
move on, it was going to take until well after dark to reach Rowan Cottage. They were running out of time.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep up with me? Yer no helping in the least, when you constantly . . .”

Her tirade faded to a stop as she turned. “No, no, no, no, no,” she cried, hopping down from her mount to race to his side. “Hall? Hall! Answer me, damn you!”

He lay sprawled facedown on his horse’s neck, motionless.

Had the bandage slipped again? That must be it. She wouldn’t accept anything else. She’d simply redress the bandage, snugging the jewels over the wound again, and he’d be good as new in no time.

Hoisting herself up onto his horse behind him, she struggled to pull away the heavy wet fur he wore. The momentary satisfaction of success evaporated as she checked the bandage and found it securely in place.

This was far more serious than the bandage slipping.

“Day three,” she whispered, resting her head against his back.

It wasn’t fair. Day three hadn’t yet come to an end.

Gradually, she became aware of a faint sound beneath her ear. A steady, if not strong, heartbeat.

Hall still lived, and that was enough for her. She wouldn’t give up, either.

“Hold it together, Brie MacCulloch,” she ordered aloud.

If there’d ever been a time she needed her wits about her, this was that time.

She directed his horse next to hers and gathered up the lead of her mount.

They still had time to reach Orabilis. They had to.

“We will arrive at Rowan Cottage by nightfall. I’ve sworn it and it will be so. And you, my big warrior . . .” She ran a hand down Hall’s back before lifting the fur back up to protect him from the cold rain. “You must do yer part in this, too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep right on breathing, do you hear me? Elsewise, you’ll have me to answer to.”

T
HE WESTERN SKY
flamed with the last traces of red and pink light as the trees surrounding Orabilis’s home came into view.

Brie didn’t dare yell out to try to attract the old woman’s attention. Though they were many miles from Tordenet, with the Beast’s powers, they were much too close for comfort.

Step by step, she waited on full alert to confront whatever Hall had expected would keep him from crossing onto the property around Rowan Cottage. She directed his big horse to within a few feet of the front door before dismounting to survey her surroundings.

Nothing at all unusual happened. No beasts or invisible barriers of any kind.

If Hall were conscious, she’d give him a piece of her mind for all the useless worry he’d caused her.

“Later,” she whispered as she approached the door. There would be plenty of time to chastise him for having worried her later.

Please let there be plenty of time later.

She lifted her fist to knock, but the door glided open and Orabilis stepped out into the evening to greet her.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the last daughter of the House MacUlagh. Yer back so soon, Princess. To what do I owe this grand honor?”

Brie’s face heated, remembering her first meeting with the old woman, and how she’d embarrassed herself by listing her birthright and ancestry as if it might give her some added authority.

Orabilis had been less than impressed with her pedigree. It was more important who
you
are, the old witch had informed her, than who yer family had been in generations so long gone that few even remembered they’d ever existed.

The witch, it seemed, was as wise as she was aged. Brie hoped now that her generosity would rival that wisdom.

“I need yer help. My . . . my companion has been injured and the Tinklers tell us yer the only one who can help him.”

“The Tinklers told you that, did they? Well, let’s have a look at him, then. If the Tinklers chose to send him to me, he just might be worth saving.” Orabilis tottered over to the big horse and squinted up toward Hall. “Wake up!” she yelled, slapping a hand to his leg.

“He’s no asleep,” Brie said, straining to keep the desperation she felt out of her voice. “He’s dying, damn it all. Can you no see that? He’s losing the
battle with the poisonous Magic that infects his wound.”

“Magic, eh?” Orabilis scratched at her chin, studying her patient. “Magic too strong for the Tinklers means we’ve got our work cut out for us. We’ll need to start by getting this big one down from his perch.”

“We can do it,” Brie answered, sounding much more confident than she felt.

Climbing back up on Hall’s horse behind him, she worked the reins up and over his head before sliding back down to the ground.

“There. I’d think that if we give him a good tug, between the two of us, we can catch him as he slides down. Can you do that, do you think? Help me to catch him before he hits the ground?”

Eyeing the old woman, Brie felt some doubt as to the possibility of success for her plan, but Orabilis nodded enthusiastically and positioned herself next to Brie.

“Here we go,” Brie encouraged while she put her back into pulling Hall toward her. “It’s working! It’s . . . oof!”

As Hall’s body gained momentum toward them, Orabilis stepped back and away, leaving Brie to shoulder the full brunt of his weight. As strong as she was, she wasn’t strong enough for that.

She fell to her back, him spread-eagle on top of her. The only thing that saved her from a painful landing was Orabilis’s hands at her shoulders, slowing her fall
a bit, guiding her to the ground. Thank the Seven the old woman hadn’t completely deserted her.

“Good of you to help,” Brie managed to squeak when she’d caught her breath. “Yer stronger than you look.”

And a good thing it was, too. Without Orabilis to slow her descent, Brie suspected she might have been seriously injured. As it was, she was simply pinned to the ground under Hall’s weight, barely able to catch her breath.

Orabilis stepped back, hands on her hips. “I suppose I am strong at that. But then, I’d have to be, living out here alone as I do, now, wouldn’t I?”

“If you could just help roll him off of me,” Brie grunted.

“Sorry, lassie. I canna see that happening. But perhaps I’ve something inside that might give us some assistance,” Orabilis answered, turning to hobble back inside her little cottage.

At least Brie assumed the old woman returned to her cottage. With Hall on top of her, her view of everything other than a few degrees to her left was blocked.

So here she lay, unable to move, struggling for breath, deserted by the only creature within miles who could help.

“Bollocks,” she muttered, and tried in vain to pull her arm to freedom.

Hall’s face lay next to hers, his shallow breath
hitting her cheek in short little puffs. At least he still lived.

She quickly realized that he lay so close, if she turned her head at all, her lips brushed against his. She did so, then tried it a second time, just to make sure she wasn’t imagining it.

“Ahem. Am I interrupting the two of you in some sport?”

“No!” Brie’s shout of surprise sounded more like a flattened huff of air. “I was only checking to see if the fever had taken him again.” Why she felt the need to explain was beyond her.

“And has it?” Orabilis asked as she squatted down next to them.

Brie regretted that she hadn’t actually been thinking of fever when her lips had touched his. Her lie forced her to turn her face back toward his to rest her lips against his once more. Heat flooded her body, assuring her that one of them was excessively warm.

“Yes,” she responded breathlessly. “There is a fever.”

Orabilis chuckled as if someone had told her a wonderful joke, leaving Brie with the awful suspicion that
she
was the punch line in whatever the old woman found so amusing.

“Turn yer head away, lassie,” Orabilis instructed, and thrust her hand between them, up next to Hall’s nose.

With so little warning, Brie wasn’t quite fast enough.

An acrid, bitter odor crawled into her nostrils and rushed straight to her oxygen-deprived lungs. She panted, unable to fully catch her breath under Hall’s weight. The need to gasp for air or to cough out the stinging fumes overwhelmed her.

“What is that?” she choked out after a moment.

“Strong, is it no? A potent wee tincture of my own making. Good for waking a body from almost anything. Any moment now, yer big warrior here will be able to help us get him inside under his own power.”

“And off me,” Brie grunted.

As Orabilis had predicted, Hall groaned and began to stir.

“Where?” His voice rasped as if his tongue were too thick for him to form words.

“Dinna you try to speak, good sir,” Orabilis said as she tugged at his arm. “Save what little strength you have for getting on yer feet.”

“Who?” He tried again while pushing up to his knees.

“A stubborn one, you are.” Orabilis chuckled, her eyebrows waggling like fuzzy caterpillars. “I see you’ve found a match for yer own willfulness, have you no, lassie?”