Page 4 of The Highlander’s Untamed Lady

She had lost him.

A high-pitched yelp cut through her moment of glory. Hera was no longer at her side. Diana skidded to a halt.

Zeus pranced beside Hera, his head turned back to the forest they’d run through.

Diana’s breath heaved from her in great gasps while her heart still raced on. She looked at the path they’d taken. The man had not appeared.

If they stayed there, it would not be long until he did.

Diana knelt beside Hera and began patting the damp fur for the injury. Diana’s leg muscles trembled and threatened to give out from beneath her. Her fingers moved with a frantic rush until they met a warm wetness.

She drew her hand back. Lightning streaked the sky and brought to light the crimson blood glistening on her hand. Hera’s wound would need to be examined.

“Can you walk?” she asked Hera and gently pushed at the large wolf to encourage her into a standing position.

Hera stood, ever the obedient one, and limped forward before giving a low whimper once more. The second attempt following the first was more than Diana could bear.

She rose to a standing position and scooped Hera into her arms with a hefting grunt. For a beast who ate small forest creatures, Hera certainly weighed a considerable amount.

The cave was not far. Diana could make it.

She put one foot in front of the other on shaking legs, all the while praying for the strength to make it without dropping Hera or revealing themselves to the man who chased them.

Everything about Diana was heavy and weary. Her arms, her legs, her cloak, Hera. A pebble landed atop her head and sent her pulse flying into a panic once more. It wasn’t until another hit her hand with a wet splat that she realized it was rain.

Her throat ached for her to stop and tilt her face to the sky and catch the droplets in her mouth, to slake the maddening thirst made all the more insufferable with her exertions.

Already they’d wasted too much time.

All around them, the forest popped with the large drops. Finally, at long last, the soggy undergrowth gave way to sand. She was near St. Agnes’ cave.

Relief lightened her burden and she managed to stagger the last few necessary steps to the mouth of the cave. A surreptitious glance behind her confirmed what she needed to know – the man was not there.

“We did it.” She grinned down at Zeus.

He did not look up at her, but instead raced into the cave and sat beside the small circle of stones Diana often used to start a fire. Always stoic. Always the fighter.

Lucky for Diana, she too was a fighter.

She wobbled the last few steps into the cave until she reached Zeus’ side where she carefully settled Hera to the sand and collapsed beside her. Her limbs were limp with fatigue. She wanted to lie down and remain there for the rest of her life.

But she could not.

Hera needed her.

Outside the mouth of the cave, the rain poured in a glittering waterfall, coming down with merciless force. The rain would be cold. Crisp. Refreshing. Diana gave a thick swallow.

Hera first.

Diana dragged herself to a sitting position and drew several dry sticks from a pile of tinder she’d placed there before being sent to the tower.

A couple strikes at the flint produced a fire. The cave immediately lit with the flames. She pulled her hood back and settled herself beside Hera. The wolf whimpered like an injured child and pushed her paw at Diana. The pale gray and white fur was streaked with the bright red blood of an injury.

Zeus growled, so suddenly and so ferociously, Diana startled and released Hera’s paw. She turned to admonish her overzealous protector when she caught his focused glare and froze.

“Ye’re no’ an easy woman to catch, Lady Diana.”

She spun around to the sound of the masculine voice and found the shadow of a man at the mouth of her cave. He stepped forward, into the wash of firelight. Rainwater dripped from his hair and shone over his clothing. His face was lined and serious, his look hard. Savage.