Chapter Fourteen

Bryce pushed the horses to go faster and only slowed when Kenna and Abagail nearly flew out of the wagon. It wouldn’t do Dorie any good if he arrived at Cam’s house alone. He was not a healer. He needed the women with him if there was to be any chance of saving his wife.

Angus said she’d been shot with an arrow. In the chest. Such a wound sounded fatal. Even now he could be too late.

“I don’t know why she left the castle. I told her to stay inside,” he complained, allowing his anger to fend off the worry and pain.

“Did you tell her why you wished her to stay put?” Kenna asked.

“Nay. I’m her husband. I don’t need to explain myself to my wife.”

Kenna harrumphed. “Strange, I haven’t seen you act like a husband to the lass.”

“I’ve taken her to my bed.” He didn’t know why he’d blurted that out. It was a slippery defense to be sure.

“Oh! Well, then. In that case, I’m surprised she wasn’t following at your heels begging for more of your attentions.” Kenna rolled her eyes as she clenched her fingers around the seat.

Ignoring her taunts, he gritted his teeth. “She’s supposed to obey me.”

Kenna laughed. “Men think wives must obey them, but if you truly want us to listen, you need to tell us why you insist on this or that. Ordering us about with no good reason won’t do it.”

“That doesn’t help me now.” He assisted the two women down when they arrived in front of Cam and Mari’s half-finished manor house. “Please hurry.”

Before his request was out, Mari appeared at the door, covered in blood.

“Dear God,” Bryce choked out.

Abagail, Kenna, and Mari had already surrounded his wife when Bryce woodenly strode into the room. He couldn’t see Dorie past the flurry of females tending her, but he saw a pale hand hanging over the edge of the table, blood dripping from her fingertips.

He couldn’t breathe.

He was going to lose her, and he’d not had the chance to make things right. He knew how fickle life could be. He knew nothing was promised, yet he’d treated her as if she hadn’t mattered.

“Drink this,” Cam said. Bryce hadn’t noticed the man standing next to him but reached for the offered cup. Cam’s hands and clothes were also stained with blood.

Bryce wasn’t able to drink. He knew he’d not be able to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“The arrow is stuck in her breastbone. It didn’t go into her heart. She’s not choking up blood, though her breathing is raspy. If they can get the bleeding stopped and remove the arrow, she’ll have a chance.”

A chance.

It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had to hold on to. He would grasp any hope with both hands.

The sound of a low growl had him turning to look behind him. Rascal was laid out on the floor. Angus the stable hand was cleaning a wound while a young boy held the dog’s thrashing head.

“Hold him tight. I don’t want him to bite me,” Angus ordered.

“The beast saved her life,” Cam explained. “Tore the throat out of one of the attackers. The older cousin, from the looks of him. From the trail leading away, the other one was sent off unhappy. Rascal made it here to me and led us to Dorie before he finally collapsed.”

Anger and gratitude welled up in Bryce in equal measure. “Will he live?” He would treat the beast like a king from now on for saving her life.

“Most likely. He’d be better if he didn’t keep trying to get up to go to her.”

Bryce went over to the dog and knelt down. “Shhh. Settle yourself. There’s a good lad.” He scratched the dog behind the ear, and the mutt relaxed a bit. “Thank you for looking after her. I’ve got it now. You rest.” With a pat, he stood to go see his wife. He would hold her good hand and stand next to her through whatever came next.

He wouldn’t stand off to the side like a coward.

…

Dorie noticed the chill first. She wanted to get another blanket or light a fire, but she was too exhausted to move. The only warmth resided in one of her hands.

She focused on that heat, hoping it would spread to the rest of her body. She felt a pulse against her palm that didn’t match her own. Her own heartbeat pounded loudly in her temples. She tried to slow it to match the one in her hand.

Fingers twitched against hers and visions of Bryce flitted through her groggy thoughts. Bryce kissing her, holding her. She held on to that thought tightly. It was a nice memory.

Bryce scowling. That memory wasn’t so great, so she skipped to the next. Bryce sleeping next to her, lying on top of her. In her. She remembered the heat of his body pressed against hers and wished he’d offer his heat to her now.

“Shhh,” Bryce murmured from somewhere close by. “Rest now.”

But she couldn’t rest. Not without knowing if her dog was well. Not without warning Bryce that McCurdys had attacked her and might harm him. Not without telling him she was sorry for sneaking out of the castle.

“Shhh,” he urged. “Everything is fine. Rascal is sleeping at the foot of your bed. He’s a bit ruffled but he’ll mend. We’re both keeping watch. You’re safe now. We won’t let the McCurdys get to you.”

She thought maybe she had actually spoken her worries out loud, but she didn’t think so. And there was still one concern he hadn’t addressed.

Trying her best, she squeezed his hand. Though it felt as if she’d hardly made an impression, she felt the warm wetness of a kiss against the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry, I failed ye,” he said quietly. “I should have told you of the danger. I should have explained why I wanted you to stay within the castle walls instead of barking orders at you and expecting you to obey. I’ve given you no reason to do what I say. Please forgive me.”

Since she couldn’t get her throat and lips to work, she relied on her only method of communication and squeezed his hand again.

“They were able to get the arrow out without causing more damage, but you’ve lost a lot of blood. Abagail says it’s why you’re shivering. I was concerned of fever, but your skin is much too cool for a fever.”

He said more, but now that she knew everything was well, she was able to focus on the sound of his voice rather than the words, and she slipped into a comfortable sleep.

Bryce was here.

Everything would be fine.

…

It was an excruciating three days before Dorie finally opened her eyes and looked at Bryce. Thank God, he thought. At last! He smiled at her. But it didn’t help.

She gasped in fear and tried to back away, wincing when the action pulled at her wound.

“It’s me. Bryce,” he assured her. “You’re safe, lass.”

She blinked and he figured he understood her concern. No doubt he was a dismal sight. He’d rarely left her side since arriving at Cam’s house. He’d not taken time to bathe or shave. He’d only changed clothes because his cousins and their wives forced him to out of shame.

They brought him food and ale.

“It’s so nice to see your beautiful eyes open again,” he told her, and leaned over to kiss her forehead. When he pulled away she smiled up at him. “Can you swallow some broth? It will be nice to have your assistance rather than pouring it down your throat and making a mess of it.”

She nodded, and he helped raise her head, bringing the cup to her lips. When she emptied the cup, he settled her back against the pillow, relief pouring through him. Dorie had been weak from losing so much blood, so he knew how much she needed rest and nourishment.

He’d practically taken over Cam and Mari’s house, having had their bed brought down to the front room for Dorie. No one had fought him on any of his requests. They’d even allowed the dog in the bed. Bryce would never be able to thank them enough. Not Cam or Mari, nor Rascal.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He thought he might break into tears at the sound of her raspy voice. “Think nothing of it. Go back to sleep so you can heal. As soon as you’re able to be moved, I’ll take you home,” he promised, though he didn’t think she cared much at the moment. A bed was a bed.

He kissed her hand as he’d done hundreds of times in the past days. It had been the only way to reach her. To let her know he was there with her. That he hadn’t left.

“Rest now,” he said.

She nodded and mumbled something. He only made out the word whiskers.

“I’ll take care of it.” He laughed and caught himself. He rarely laughed.

Occasionally one of the children would earn a chuckle from him, but laughing and smiling was not something he did freely. Except when his wife was close by, apparently.

“How is she?” Lach asked him. Kenna had stopped by to check on Dorie earlier but had been called away when Mari complained of a backache.

“She doesn’t like my beard,” Bryce muttered.

“How can ye tell?”

Bryce still hadn’t told the others his wife could speak. It was her secret to share, and he’d wait until she was ready. He was so glad she would live to have the chance.

“I just know,” he answered Lach’s question.

“Aye. Kenna and I are able to speak without words. Just a look or a touch and we know what the other is thinking. It’s a blessing most days.” Lach smiled but rubbed his chin. “I believe we’re going to be needed to help Cam soon, though.”

“Help Cam?” Bryce looked down at Dorie. There was no way he’d leave her side. He’d already left one wife to waste away. He’d stay right where he was and see this one back to health. Beard and stench be damned.

“Mari has said her back pains her.”

“And? It’s no wonder. She’s carrying around a— Ah.” Bryce finally understood what Lach was saying. “Are you an expert on birthing babes, cousin?”

“We’ve three, and one is on the way.” He froze for a moment. “I’ll thank you to forget that last part until Kenna tells her sister. She’s waiting until after Mari delivers.”

Bryce grinned. “I swear, I’ll be the most surprised.”

Lach frowned, probably remembering how bad Bryce was at acting.

Looking down at his sleeping wife, he thought of her growing large with his child, the glow of motherhood on her cheeks pulled up in a constant smile. He also allowed a moment to think of her breasts, larger and filling his palms as he caressed them.

Christ. He needed to get a hold of himself. He’d sworn not to touch her again. He’d given in to his lust once. He couldn’t do it ever again. It was too great a risk. He might keep his broken heart safe from his wife, but he’d never be able to shut out a child.

She’d nearly died this week, and he knew he’d already become more attached to her than he’d planned. He needed to be careful and guard what was left of his heart before it was too late.

…

Dorie woke to find a clean-shaven Bryce sleeping on a chair near the bed where she lay. His fingers were twined loosely through hers and she smiled at the warmth, remembering it had been her beacon when she’d been so cold.

It was dark, the house quiet. When she shifted to stretch, she was reminded of the wound in her chest. A bandage held her arm firmly to her side.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t wait. She needed to get up now or embarrass herself. That thought made her wonder how she’d managed the last few days. It was clear by the stiffness in her muscles that she’d been in bed a long time.

Deciding not to think of what might have happened while she was unconscious, she focused on what needed to happen now. Careful not to wake her sleeping husband, she edged up the bandage enough that she could move her arm slightly. Testing it, she found it wasn’t too painful…until she leaned on it.

Letting her free hand slip out of Bryce’s, she waited a beat to make sure she hadn’t woken him, then used it to lever herself up to a sitting position. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and gave herself a moment for her vision to clear and her breathing to catch up.

Rascal lifted his head and whined.

“Shhh,” she commanded as Bryce shifted but didn’t wake.

When she stood, her dog dragged himself slowly from the bed to come stand in front of her. She bent to check him over, patting his head. “Come along then if you must protect me,” she whispered. “But I must go out.”

She paused after opening the door. Fortunately the brand new hinges on the door were quiet. She was able to make her way down the steps and out into the trees to relieve herself. Her dog made use of the next tree over to do the same.

She didn’t make it back to the house before Bryce was outside calling her name.

“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be out of bed,” he scolded, coming to help her back into the house.

While she didn’t really need help walking, she allowed him to assist her since it meant he had to touch her and stand close.

“Thank you,” she offered when he tucked her back in bed.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll take care of you.” He ran a hand through her hair and leaned in to press a kiss to her temple.

She’d seen Lachlan and Cameron do the same with their wives. A simple touch of lips to a fairly innocuous part of the body. But the way it made her feel was something else. As if she was treasured and cared for. His green eyes held worry, but the usual irritation in them was gone.

While she hoped she’d never be shot again, she had to admit there were some advantages.

As she settled back in bed, she thought of the last time she’d been able to walk around. Before she was shot by an arrow.

“It was the McCurdys,” she whispered.

“Aye. I know.” Earlier he had apologized for not telling her of the danger she was in. She recalled his pained words.

“Wallace,” she stated with a grimace.

Bryce nodded as if he wasn’t surprised. “I’m sorry. It must be hell to know your own brother tried to kill you.”

She shrugged and regretted it instantly. She hissed but relaxed a bit as the pain lessened. At least the sting in her chest did. The ache in her heart remained.

“He’s not really my brother.” She’d known since she was nine that Wallace was not blood. His mother had died when he was young, and they didn’t truly share a father.

When she was seven and Wallace sixteen, she’d followed him around, and he hadn’t minded. He’d shown her how to stand up in the cold surf and find little creatures in the rocks on the beach.

He’d been her hero…right up until she was locked away. He’d never even tried to save her.

She frowned as she recalled something they’d said after shooting her. “Desmond said they would tell their laird the MacKinlays killed me.”

“Rascal took care of Desmond. He’s gone,” Bryce informed her as he looked down at the dog.

She patted Rascal’s head. “Thank ye, friend.”

“I’m glad he was there.” Bryce cleared his throat and tilted his head. “From what you heard, it sounds like the laird didn’t know of the arrangement Wallace had made with Lachlan regarding our marriage.”

She nodded. “That’s why they’re trying to find a way out of it. So Wallace can keep the money Lachlan paid him.”

“Then it wasn’t the laird who ordered them to hurt ye. Perhaps your father doesn’t want you harmed.” He gave her an encouraging look.

“I’m not sure why the laird would care. I’ve not seen him since he left me in my chamber all those years ago. Besides, it doesn’t matter. They must be stopped from coming back and hurting someone else,” she whispered.

The sinister smile that pulled up on Bryce’s face should have worried her. It was clear he was eager to draw blood. But since they shared a common enemy, she smiled with him as he leaned closer and kissed her forehead.

“No one harms what’s mine and lives.”

Her eyes widened, not because of the threat evident in his tone, but the way he’d claimed her as his.

She was his.