“Forgive me.”
“’Tis not ye who needs forgiving.” A sob caught in her throat and sent a streak of white-hot pain through her chest, a vicious combination of injury and emotion. “I’m the one who was too injured to move. If I could have made myself walk. If I could have—”
“They may be alive still…” William said, the hesitation in his tone indicative of his own lack of confidence.
Kinsey said nothing in response. What was there to say?
Drake, who had worked his whole life to ensure his family remained safe and fed, had finally sacrificed not only his dream but his very life.
For her.
To keep her safe.
Hot tears streaked down her cheeks. The price was unfathomable. She wished he would have left her to face the punishment she deserved.
And Reid…
William put his arms around her as she sobbed in shallow, painful gasps. They had their love, aye, but they had lost far, far too much.
23
Kinsey slept through the night, but only due to a tea Fennela had insisted she drink. Grief, however, was a heavy companion. One that tried to fight the drowsy effects of the tea, but was there, lodged in her chest like a stone, when she woke.
William was at her side immediately, his hand folding around hers with determined support. “We need to return to the inn,” he said gently. “I need to speak to the men.”
About Reid. To see how many were still alive.
He didn’t need to say any of it aloud. Kinsey knew exactly what he meant. She nodded.
Fennela approached them with a small bundle of items in a swath of linen. “I have prepared a couple of teas for ye. One is to help ye with the pain and stave off infection. The other is to help ye sleep.”
William looked up at her, shamefaced. “We havena any coin with us, but we do at the inn, I can bring—”
“The nearest inn is quite far away.” Fennela frowned.
“Take this to guarantee my word that I’ll return with the funds for ye.” He offered her his dagger, the one studded with rubies. “My da gave me this a long time ago when things were right between us.” He gave a sad smile. “The value is more than we owe ye, but what it means to me is worth far more. I can assure ye I’ll be back for it.”
It was the same dagger Kinsey had once asked for in the wager they’d made so long ago. One he would have lost if he’d intentionally let her win. She hadn’t realized what that meant to him until now.
Fennela put up her hand to refuse his offer. “Nay, I mean, ’tis too far to walk.”
Heat washed over Kinsey. She was the reason they couldn’t travel so far on foot. Helplessness had never suited her, and especially in a time of such sorrow and agony.
She sat up straighter and ignored the staggering pain squeezing at her lungs. “I can make it.”
“Take my horse,” Fennela said. “Ye may return it when ye bring the coin.”
“Ye’ve put a lot of faith in us.” William lowered his head humbly.
“’Tis a risk I’m willing to take to know Kinsey will be safe.” Fennela rested a gentle hand on Kinsey’s shoulder.
William regarded the healer with reverence. “I dinna know how to thank ye—”
She shook her head. “There’s no need. Get to the inn and see that Kinsey has proper rest.”
William looked at Kinsey, his gaze warm with affection. “Ye have my word.”
They left shortly thereafter. William walked while Kinsey rode the small horse. They didn’t speak much on the journey to the inn, both lost in their own thoughts, their own memories, as they grieved.
The sun was high in the sky when they finally arrived at the inn. Their arrival, however, brought on a new level of despondency. Getting to the inn had been a goal, something to move them onward. But now that they’d attained the small feat, what else was there?
William hesitated at the door of the inn, his jaw tight. Telling his men of Reid’s loss would not be easy. Kinsey reached for his hand and held it firmly.
“I’ll organize a party to go back tonight,” William said. “To see if they’ll allow us to…” he swallowed, “to collect those left behind.”
The pain in Kinsey’s chest had little to do with her damaged ribs as tears welled in her eyes.
Finally, William opened the door to reveal the army he commanded sitting around at the tables of the tavern. They turned at once.
Kinsey froze, staring in disbelief at the two men she’d thought never to see again.
Reid sat in the center of the group with a blackened eye and a cut lip. And at his side…
At his side…
Her knees went weak, and she sagged against William in a mix of overwhelming emotions, an eagerness to believe what she saw, but skepticism that it was some effect of the healer’s teas.
Surely, it was too good to be true.
“Drake,” she whispered.
He leapt up from the bench and came to her. His arm was bound in a sling, and he moved with a limp. “Kinsey.”
His eyes filled with tears, and he gingerly pulled her toward him with his good arm. She fell against her brother’s solid frame and clung to him.
“How?” She asked in amazed relief. “How did ye escape?”
“Yer brother is one of the fiercest fighters I’ve ever seen.” Reid joined them. “I mean no offense.” He nodded at William, who raised his hands in a show of surrender.
“Ye’ll no’ hear me argue with ye,” he said.
“We pushed them back as we fought,” Reid continued. “Drake told me to clear the portcullis, so I went behind it. He ran toward me and sliced through the rope in one blow. The portcullis fell as he rolled under it. The spikes slammed down and missed him by a hairbreadth. I’ve no’ ever seen anything like it.”
Drake shifted uncomfortably. He’d never been one for relishing praise.
“Ye could have been killed,” Kinsey whispered.
Drake
