Page 17 of Treasures of Skye

Chapter Nine

The day was by far the warmest this winter. They’d ridden at least two hours and Helena’s thighs had begun to ache. She shifted in an effort to ease the cramps.

“Do ye need to stop for some privacy?” Kaden asked. “We still have over an hour to go.”

That, she realized, wasn’t a bad idea. “If ye dinnae mind,” she said.

Kaden guided Valor off the road and stopped near a group of trees. He dismounted, then helped her down. They parted ways for some privacy. Helena finished quickly and hurried back to Valor. Exposing her backside to the cold made her wish for the warmth of the fire at the croft.

As she came into view of the horse, Kaden stepped from the trees a few paces ahead of her. Helena jerked when what she thought was a bird flew past her ear. Kaden twisted to the side and stumbled. Birds took flight from the trees and scattered in the sky above them.

Helena registered the arrow protruding from Kaden’s furs just below his shoulder. She tried to scream, but the sound lodged in her throat. She lunged toward him and reached his side an instant later. He shoved her back between him and Valor.

“Kaden—”

“Hush,” he ordered.

Her mind snapped to attention. He was scanning the area for their attackers. Where had the arrow come from? Why hadn’t they fired more arrows? Her heart pounded. Who were their attackers? Terror gnawed at her stomach. Had the MacLeods discovered the Fary Flag missing? They couldn’t possibly know she had taken it.

Kaden shifted and she realized he was reaching for the arrow. He broke the end off with an audible snap. He faced her. Sweat beaded his brow. His face had gone pale.

“We must go,” he said. “Hurry. Into the saddle.”

Helena stepped into the saddle. Kaden grasped the pommel and pulled himself up onto the saddle behind her.

He loosely held the reins. Helena took them from him and snapped the leather across the horse’s flanks. The animal shot forward and she prayed Kaden could stay mounted until they reached the croft. His arms remained tight around her and she periodically glanced at his hands to ensure he still gripped the pommel.

The hour’s ride seemed like forever before the croft came into view, nestled amongst the trees. Helena brought the horse to a stop in front of the cottage and dropped from the saddle. Kaden swung his leg over the pommel and nearly fell from the saddle. Helena grabbed his arm and steadied him. He smiled weakly and allowed her to pull his arm over her shoulder. She could tell he was trying not to put his full weight on her. They reached the door and she stumbled with him inside. He fell onto the bed.

The room was freezing cold, but Helena whipped off her cloak and tossed it over the foot of the bed. Her hands shook as she removed Kaden’s fur coat. Blood spattered the front of his tunic, but he hadn’t bled much. That would change once they removed the arrow.

Helena slid the tunic up and over the arrow, careful not to snag the fabric on the point. She urged his arms upward. He flinched as she pulled the tunic over his head. Seeing the arrow protruding from the smooth tanned muscle of his shoulder made her stomach roil. Then she caught sight of the arrowhead sticking out of his back. The arrow had gone clean through. This was good, but her head still spun. This was her fault. She should have refused his help, sent him home, no matter his objections. If he bled to death, she would never forgive herself.

“Ye must pull the arrow out,” he said in a strained voice.

Helena had known they would reach this point. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to tend a wound. But she’d never had to pull an arrow from a man’s flesh—and without aid from anyone else.

“There are fresh cloths on the counter,” he said. “Use them to staunch the blood. But first, start a fire. We will need the fire to heat the poker.”

Tears threatened. God help her, she wasn’t sure she could do this. She jumped to her feet and went to the hearth. She knelt, and quickly started a flame that she stoked into a fire that would burn the small logs she stacked atop the kindling. She glanced at Kaden. Eyes closed, he leaned his shoulder against the wall. Thank God, his chest rose and fell with an even breath. There was no time to waste. Helena picked up the poker and stuck it into the flames, then rose and fetched the cloths. She returned to the bed and sat beside Kaden.

“There is a bottle of whisky in the cabinet,” he whispered without opening his eyes.

She hurried to the closed cupboard on the left wall and opened the doors. The dusty bottle of whisky stood behind an empty ceramic container.

She hurried back to Kaden. “I can use this to wash the wound.”

He gave a hoarse grunt. “I would rather bleed to death.”

Kaden extended his hand and motioned for her to give him the bottle. Helena frowned, then, with a sigh, handed it to him. He took a large swig.

He handed her back the bottle. “Get on with it.”

She set the bottle on the floor, then settled on the mattress beside him. She hesitated. “This is my fault. Had I no’ left, ye wouldn’t have followed me, and… I am so sorry, Kaden.”

“Tis no’ your fault,” he said.

“Ye asked me to stay. I didnae listen.”