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SHE RECOGNIZED THE voice. She could not place it.
“Elizabeth, open your eyes.”
She was cradled in a man’s lap.
Whoever it was, she would make them leave her and go for Thomas. She had wasted too much time already with the dark. And how long ago had she been thrown?
Fingers gentled her chin and shook. She forced her lids open.
Black, smoldering eyes pierced her.
“Mac?” she whispered. Her head dizzied. She fought against it. “How did you get here?”
He frowned. “That aggravating dog made us follow him this morning.”
Fingal whined. He pressed his nose atop her head.
Mac shoved the snout aside. “And from where did ye come?” The fear poured from his eyes. “And Thomas?”
“He is in a cave due west at the base of the mountain. I left him there last night. We must go to him.”
The man shifted his gaze from her to the trail she had fought her way down and back to her.
A shadow fell over them. Feet came into view. She lifted her gaze.
No.
Her stomach collapsed.
She sat up. Her head swam.
“Whoa, Elizabeth,” Mac crooned. “Ye had a nasty fall. Go easy.”
“I do not have time to go easy.” She stumbled to her feet. She swayed. Mac grabbed her arm.
“Eaton,” she whispered. “I canna believe you are here.”
Veins in his arms, unfettered by rolled up sleeves, tightened and loosened amid tawny curls of hair. Eyes as blue as an Acadian winter raked past her braided hair to the Indian shirt and the leggings and back to her face.
She had no time for questions. She swiveled back toward Mac.
Behind him, Running Feather walked toward them with the mare.
“My father?” she gasped. “Is he here?”
The brave caught the glance of each man. Eaton shook his head. Mac’s eyes darkened.
Running Feather turned back to her. “No, he did not come.”
She wanted to ask how he was and if he was coming, but she had nae time.
“We must go.” She stepped around Mac and toward the mare. “Death waits for Thomas even now.”
Had he cooled himself as best he could? Or had he become so incoherent he had lain there and done nothing?
God forbid. Was he already gone from her even as she tried to fight her way back to him?
Strong fingers gripped her arm. She was pulled around.
Mac’s lips pressed thin. “Eaton and I will go to him.”
Her spine tightened. “You have no idea where he is.”
“He is likely in the cave we used to camp in and hunt. Is there a waterfall beside it?”
She nodded.
“And a grassy protected area between there and the cave?”
Another nod.
He pushed her toward her horse. “Ye go to Fearnought Farms.”
“No!” She jerked back.
“The others will worry when we do nae come back. They will need to be told where we are and what we go to do.”
“And they will find out when we return with Tomas.”
He corralled her waist. “It appears ye are no worse for having fallen to the ground, your Highness.” He lifted her to the horse.
“If I am well enough to go home, I am well enough to go back to Tomas.”
“Ye are as stubborn as ever.” Mac shook his head.
Before them in the road, Fingal barked, twirled once, then waited.
“Elizabeth.” Eaton’s smooth voice slipped inside her chest. “I will see to Thomas. I happen to have my bag with me.”
Her eyes fell on the black leather case tied at the back of his horse. “You are now a doctor?”
He nodded.
“Good.” She shook her chin. “I could use your help.”
He smiled indulgently.
A wave of homesickness rode into her heart. She pushed the feeling aside.
“Go home,” Mac said. “Give that mare a rest. We will see to Thomas.”
Fingal gave another sharp bark, then spun around and raced up the trail.
Both men turned for their mounts.
Fingal sprinted around a bend and disappeared.
Should she?
Mac would be furious. Eaton would not be happy either.
But I cannot wait to know if he is alive or dead.
She kicked the horse’s flanks. The mare shot between the men.
“Elizabeth!” Mac cried.
She heard the horses scrambling behind her. She heard Eaton’s shouts for her to stop.
And then, they were far behind her and she heard them no more.
––––––––
THOMAS WAS NAE CERTAIN how much longer he could hang on. Already, he had pushed himself beyond his limits. He was convinced anyone else would have given up already.
Or died.
But I promised Elizabeth.
He sat at the edge of the pool. The sun appeared to be halfway between morning and noon. He scooted into the water. The cold shivered his frame and rattled his teeth. He lay his head to the crook of his elbow and on the bank.
From somewhere, he could hear barking.
Ach! Would he now have to battle a wild dog or two?
I canna do so.
He was too weak. His head too fuzzy.
His body slipped downward.
I must get out, or I will fall asleep and slip in.
And he could nae have the lass finding his dead body bloated and floating in the pool.
The barking came closer.
Then again, he had nae wish for her to find his body torn apart by wild beasts either.
I will get out and wet the shirts.
But still, he moved not. Sleep overtook him.
He slipped again. His fingers clutched the dirt. A tongue licked his jaw. Thomas pressed the beast’s face from him.
A bark drove into his ears.
Thomas forced his eyelids upward.
Fingal? The fever was finally taking his mind.
Another bark. He opened his eyes. Golden spheres stared at him.
He flexed his fingers. He crawled them forward. He fingered the dog’s paw.
“It is you,” he whispered.
The dog leaped into the water and nudged Thomas in the back.
He wants me to get out.
Then, as if afraid Thomas would not comply, Fingal set to baying in his ear.
“Oh, alright.”
He should know better than to argue with the brute. He crawled the few feet back to his pallet.
For the next several hours, when sleep overtook him, Fingal would bark in his face. He would slip his tongue up and down Thomas’ cheeks. He would nibble his fingers. More than once the dog dragged the blanket or the shirt to the pool and through the water, then pulled it back again. Thomas would lay the blanket across his body. He would change into the shirt.
He drank from the flask. He grabbed the rosary, even though he was too weary to offer prayers.
Sometime around noon, he heard shouting outside. He murmured a prayer that it was for his good and not his ill that people came.
Elizabeth’s face lifted above his. Then, Mac was beside her.
The tears reared to his eyes.
Another man set a black leather bag to the ground and knelt at his other side. “So you are Thomas McQueen?” he smiled.
“Aye. And you?”
The man pressed crooked fingers beneath Thomas’ chin. He twisted Thomas’ head to the side and examined the jaw. “I need something to shave him with no matter how rough. I need to see how bad this cut is. It might have to be drained before we leave.”
“Come, Elizabeth,” Mac said. “If ye are going to be so pig-headed
as to have come back, then ye can help me find something.”
She frowned. “And I made it just fine, so there was little reason for you to send me back.” She swept past him. He leveled an irritated look at her back.
‘Twas like old times between them, and Thomas wanted to smile but he had not the strength.
Running Feather knelt to his other side. He grabbed Thomas’ hand. “It is good to see you, Black Fox.”
“And you,” Thomas murmured.
The brave turned to the other man. “I will fashion a carrying sling to the back of my horse for him to ride in.”
The man nodded. “’Tis a good idea. Thank you.”
Running Feather gave Thomas’ hand a last squeeze, then stood and left.
The other man crawled to Thomas’ feet and set to unwinding the bandages. “I am Dr. Eaton Sinclair.”
So this was the man Elizabeth thought was ripe for marriage, but who betrayed her by setting her onto the Leopard? And he could only be here for one reason.
“’Tis a good thing I am flat of my back and weak as a kitten,” Thomas murmured.
Eaton’s brows lifted. He continued the unwinding. “Why is that?”
“Because I promised myself if I ever met ye, I would give ye a new face.”
“Tomas,” Elizabeth gasped.
The bandages fell free. The fire ripped through Thomas’ legs. He gasped against the agony.
Fingal licked his face.
He fought to stay in his self, but ‘twas no use.
He simply could hang on no longer.
––––––––
MAC SHOOK HIS HEAD. “I will nae let ye ride her again.”
Elizabeth stared at the mare.
“Despite my orders, ye determined to get here and she is now exhausted.”
Elizabeth could see that.
“So ye will ride with me.”
Her stomach floundered like a beached fish.
Eaton came up behind her. “Elizabeth can ride with me.” He strapped his black leather bag to his horse. “We can always take turns later.”
Elizabeth did not wish to ride with either man. Mac would go on and on about her riding off earlier.
“It will also give us a chance to talk,” Eaton said softly.
And there was that.
Eaton turned to Running Feather. “You set the pace. Go as fast as you are able.”
The brave nodded.
Eaton hoisted Elizabeth into his saddle, then pulled himself behind her.
Running Feather kicked his horse and started forward. Fingal lay alongside Thomas on the sling.
“Merci, Eaton, for helping Tomas,” Elizabeth whispered.
“I would do anything for you.”
He would? “And did you come for me?”
His sigh brushed her neck. “Yes.”
Her eyes ached with the need for sleep. Not one part of her body was free of pain. The fall from the mare earlier had not helped.
“If you would do anything for me, then why did you send me away? I thought you cared for me. I thought you wanted to . . .”
She could not say the words marry me when he had never spoken of it himself.
“Your father was convinced you were in danger. He thought you would be better off with Josué and your grandparents until he could come to you.”
Her father?
She twisted around. “But do you not see what has happened to me here?”
“Your father made the best decision for you at the time that he could.” His arm tightened around her waist. “I know not how Thomas still lives, Elizabeth. It must be his love for you. But have you thought about what you will do if he does not pull through?”
She spun back to the front. Her fingers tightened on the pommel. “I cannot think of that now.”
“If the worst happens, I will marry you still.”
“But I do not love you.”
“It matters not. I would take you on whatever terms you came to me, and I would take you back home.”
Was Nova Scotia home? Or was home here? Even without Thomas?
Thomas will always be here.
She yawned. “Have you seen my father?”“I have.”
He offered nothing more.
Her lashes fluttered.
“How is he?” She rubbed her weary eyes. “Will he be coming soon?”
She nestled her back against Eaton’s chest. She opened her mouth to prod him again.
No words came.
I really should wake myself up.
But she could not.