The realization that she was responsible for the grave danger she had brought to the Elliott family after they had been so nice to her and treated her like one of their own filled her with so much guilt and regret. Maybe she should have admitted to being a Musgrave ally in the dining room so that they could have her out the door. Owen might have been understanding, but she doubted Rory would have, even though he was married to one. He did not know her, so he would have had no reason to let her stay just because she chose to be honest about who she was. No,now was not the time to feel sorry for herself. There were people out there fighting to defend the castle from the problems she had brought, and she refused to stay and do nothing.
Charlotte was suddenly frantic. She needed to find a way to help them. After all, she had brought all this trouble. But what could she do? She was just one woman and could not go against the men and expect to succeed. She quickly dressed up and hurried out of the room. She may not be able to fight with a sword, but she was quite able to shoot an arrow like she had done the time before when they were ambushed.
"Miss, ye are nae supposed tae be running around. Ye should be in the room with the others," a guard said to her, but Charlotte sized him up. She moved closer as though she had realized he was right and would indeed go into the room with them. The guard gave her an appreciative smile and opened the door for her to go in, but she slipped past him at the last minute and ran away, increasing her speed when she heard his voice as he ran after her.
Charlotte ran until she could no longer hear the man and then she resumed her walking pace. Now, all she needed was to find a bow and arrow she could use so that she would join in the battle.
She hid behind a wall until she saw an opportunity, and she ran into the field filled with the wounded and dead and swiped an arrow. Charlotte was rushing back to a corner where she planned to shoot discreetly at the enemies when she noticed Owen. Her heart broke as she watched him fight. He was tiredand bleeding. She watched him wince in pain with every step he took and every time he moved.
Charlotte held her hand to her mouth as she looked around the battlefield. Every one of the Elliott guards was in the same shape. They were tired and hurt but they could not retreat because that meant defeat, and no one knew what would happen if they were defeated.
She had caused this. She had causedallof this. A whimper escaped her as she saw the gravity of what she was responsible for. Her hand tightened around the bow and arrows, and she felt resolved to do all she could to help and ensure she helped as much as she could.
As she headed back to her hiding spot to shoot arrows, she noticed that someone was about to hit Owen.
"Owen!" she screamed, trying to get his attention. "Owen!" She watched as he searched around for her. His confusion faded into panic when he saw her, and she knew he must be worried and scared for her.
"Watch out!" she yelled, her hands hurriedly fixing the arrow in the string. She gestured behind him, but it was too late. She watched Owen go down as the man hit him and she screamed as she released the arrow into him. In a rage, she continuously shot at all the men that advanced toward Owen, killing up to three men. No one would take him away from her.
"Get him out of there," she shouted to a soldier, who hurried to do as she bid. As her arrows continued to make contact with flesh, she could not help but wonder.Why are they all going after him?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Charlotte was scared. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. The others had tried to console and convince her that none of this was her fault, and that Owen would be fine, but she could not allow herself to believe that. How could she? When the only reason all of this had happened in the first place was that she had not been honest and had led William Dodd to them. There had been so many deaths, injuries, and destructions.
Charlotte looked at Owen, who was unconscious now. She was helping the healer take care of his wound, for she couldn't stay away, and had been adamant to save him. She could not get herself to leave the room without knowing that he would be okay. What was she supposed to do? Walk around the premises and see the results of her actions? Go to her room and some rest, like Rory had suggested? She refused to do any of those things because she knew that she would be constantly tormented until she was allowed to be with him.
The healer sighed and beckoned her closer when she noticed Charlotte remained at the door, straining to see him.
"Fine, ye can come in, but ye will only dae what I ask and nothing else. Otherwise ye will find yerself outside with the others." Charlotte slowly walked into the large room.
"Thank you," she had said, grateful that the woman had taken pity on her. "What can I do?"
The healer studied her and sighed once more in resignation. "Take this." She handed Charlotte a small mortar with some herbs she did not recognize. "Crush them into a fine paste and give it to me."
Charlotte nodded, grateful to have something to occupy her mind. She looked up from her task when the woman walked up to where Owen was lying on the bed, unconscious, and watched as she cleaned his wounds. Her brows furrowed in concern when he groaned in pain, although he was not awake.
"Hand it tae me." Charlotte hurriedly handed the mortar to the woman and watched her mix the paste into some other liquid. She raised Owen's head and poured the contents into his open mouth, humming as she did so. "Ye can sit beside him if ye want. I will need tae attend tae the others, so keep an eye on him."
Charlotte waited until the healer had gone far from them before she allowed herself to get up from where she was seated and sat on the chair next to Owen's bed. She took his hand in hers andstruggled to not let the tears she had been holding back fall. She had cried enough; she would need to be strong now.
She studied him carefully. She could not access the gravity of his wounds earlier because she had been so frantic and had only cared about him getting the help he needed and waking up so she would make sure he was indeed okay.
Charlotte looked at his shirtless body. The already healing wound at his side had opened again, bleeding slowly. He had so many tiny cuts around his upper and lower body, and although Charlotte could not see his legs, she could see the dried blood that had soaked up his trousers. She sighed and tightened her grip on him. Owen had a deep gash on his head that was going to leave a scar from where the man had hit him before he went unconscious.
"Please be all right. I am so sorry," she chanted repeatedly. She had wished none of this upon him and his family, but she seemed to have a lot of bad luck and everyone she ever cared for usually ended up hurt. Charlotte knew she was spiraling again but could not help it. All of this was her fault, no matter what anyone said.
She gasped when it occurred to her that Owen might not make it. What if the blow to the head had caused more damage than they could see right now from just looking at him? What if hedied? Charlotte would never forgive herself if anything happened to him. He did not deserve any of this. He was simply a good person who had found himself roped into her problems and was now paying for it. If anyone was supposed to be in that bed,it should have been her and not him. She should have known that letting anybody help her deal with her problems would only result in them getting hurt, but she had naively thought this would be different and it would all be all right.
Charlotte got up from her position beside him and paced the room. How could she have allowed herself to be so taken in by his kindness and charming nature? She had been so relaxed and had allowed herself to be distracted from the fact that her uncle and William Dodd were terrible men who would stop at nothing to get their way. Charlotte choked down a sob that threatened to escape her. This was not what was supposed to happen. Owen was not supposed to get hurt.
After last night, she had seen a possibility of a future between them. A possibility where she did not have to be on the constant run from her uncle and the terrible man he had betrothed her to. She had seen a future that was filled with peace and laughter with a man who clearly cared deeply for her, but now, all of that had disappeared.
She paused in her paving and sighed heavily. She faced a huge dilemma and did not know how to go about it. Would Owen still want her around when he woke up? This was the second time he was gravely wounded because of her, and she had escaped unscathed. She was surprised that his family had still allowed her to stay with him and had worried for her instead of asking her to flee the castle immediately. Surely, everyone had already suspected she was responsible for what happened. She wondered what would happen if they found out who she was. Margaret might have recognized William Dodd's men and could have told him at any point.
Charlotte looked up just as the door swung open. She could not tell how long she had been pacing the floor, lost in thought. She wondered if his brother checked up on him just before she saw an older man walk into the room. By his gait and physical appearance, Charlotte could already guess who he was. She had never met him, but Owen had told her about him. Sweeney.
"Hello, lass," he greeted her, standing in front of her. "I did nae expect anyone tae be here. Shouldnae ye be resting?"
