The pig-headed dolt. Add stubborn to his list of his irritating traits. Careful to avoid his wound, she caught his shoulders and all but shoved him onto the fallen log. “Why didna you tell me you were injured when we halted before?” she demanded as she carefully removed his cape.
“T-too dangerous.”
She glared at him, noting the sweat on his brown. “Only a fool would ignore an injury of this severity.”
“The arrow went through,” he rasped. “There was naught to remove.”
“And you have been bleeding ever since.” If he wasna in so much pain, she’d shake him. With a jerk, she tore strips from her chemise. Once she’d cleaned the wound, she pressed a fresh wad of cloth against the gash and then secured the bandage.
His body began to sag.
She caught him.
Barely.
On a groan, his eyes closed.
Bedamned, he was going to pass out! Without shelter, if they remained here they’d freeze. A fact he had to know, a sacrifice he was willing to make to bring her to safety.
Unsure if she was more humbled or furious, Alesone glared at him. “How much farther to the monastery?”
“C-close.”
Thank God. She moved behind him, slid her arms under his. “Push to your feet.”
Mouth set, he started to rise. His legs trembled, and he collapsed.
Smothering her panic, she caught him. “You must help me get you on the horse.”
Eyes blurred with pain, he shook his head. “L-leave me.” He braced his hands against the fallen log. “Continue riding south. You will reach a monastery. Ask for…ask for Brother Nicholai MacDaniell.”
“Who is he?”
“A friend.” He struggled to keep his eyes open. “Tell him…” He started to collapse.
Muscles rebelling, she propped her body against his. If he fell to the ground, Alesone doubted she’d be able to haul him back up.
Heart pounding, she scanned the unfamiliar forest. If she left him here, how could she ever find her way back, or give his friend directions? With the amount of blood Thomas had lost, she couldna risk a delay.
Aye, she’d ride to the monastery, but by God he was coming with her.
Cold gulps of air burned her lungs as she hauled him to his horse’s side. Bedamned, how was she to get him up?
He started to lean to the left, and she pushed him upright.
She glanced at the fallen log he’d sat on moments before, then moved him, along with his destrier, to the stand at the edge of the trunk. “Thomas, you must help me get you on the horse.”
A groggy murmur stumbled from his mouth.
“Climb on the fallen tree.”
His head gave a shaky nod.
She caught his hand and laid it over the saddle. Through sheer will, she aided him onto the log. “Mount, damn you!”
His body began to teeter.
She shoved.
