His opponent was in much better shape. His quiver was empty, and the bow lay on the ground, useless. But his ax gleamed in the daylight.
Kate’s hands shook. How was Ian still alive?
How was she going to help him?
The dagger… But she had to approach so that the man didn’t notice. He had his back to her now. He lunged at Ian, who jumped back, luckily.
She needed to hurry. Still holding the dagger, she walked towards the warrior, slowly advancing, making sure she stepped quietly and didn’t alert the man.
She was about five feet away when Ian’s eyes locked with hers for just a split second before returning to the man in front of him. But in that split second, his eyes widened for a barely noticeable moment and a fear like she’d never seen in him before flashed through them. His gaze on his opponent again, his shoulders tensed, his eyes filling with determination.
“Come here, ye Sassenach bastart,” he growled.
Step forward, one more.
“Burn in hell, dirty Scotsman,” the man answered.
Three more steps.
The man swung his ax high in the air above his head for the last, deadly blow. Kate launched forward. Whack. Just like Ian taught her, she pierced him in the side of his neck. The dagger went in, meeting the resistance of flesh. Kate let go, nausea rising in her stomach.
The man froze, the ax fell from his hands and hit him on the head, then landed on the ground. The man followed, collapsing like a sack of wheat.
Kate and Ian stared at each other for a moment. Relief and pain on his face, he sank to his knees on the ground. Kate rushed to him and hugged him, supporting him so he didn’t fall.
“Ye shouldna have come back,” he croaked.
“I should have never left. We must hurry. You’re injured. And don’t you dare say it’s just a scratch.”
She helped him up, her heart leaping, triumphant. He was alive. At least for now, he was alive.
Chapter 30
“Open the gates!” Kate cried.
Up on the massive walls, warriors moved. Kate tightened her arms around Ian and prayed they’d be let in quickly.
After the last warrior had died, they’d gone down to the loch and cleaned and bandaged Ian’s wounds as best they could with cloth torn from Kate’s dress. Kate had been astonished at how strong Ian had seemed despite the number of wounds on his body and of how much blood he must have lost. Afterward, Ian had managed to climb onto the horse, but a short time later, he’d almost slipped off. Kate had found a rope in his travel pack and tied it around him and then herself, so that he was strapped to her and sat between her arms. She’d managed to keep him on Thor’s back in this way, though it had been extremely difficult.
“Who goes there?” one of the guards responded.
“Ian Cambel,” Kate said. “He was wounded in a battle with the English. Please, let us in. He needs help urgently.”
“Let them in!”
The gates opened slowly.
Kate pressed her fingers to Ian’s neck. His pulse was still beating, thank God. He’d come to consciousness from time to time along the path, raised his head, mumbled something, then fallen unconscious again. She’d asked herself a thousand times if she should stop and let him rest.
But she was terrified he’d die without immediate medical help. She could bandage cuts and cook him a nourishing soup, but she had no idea how to deal with deep wounds.
With a sinking heart and a dark, heavy feeling in her gut, she’d spurred Thor on, desperately looking for any sign of Inverlochy Castle. She was grateful they’d arrived before dusk had settled.
Kate let Thor walk in the courtyard. The familiar gray walls pressed in on her from four sides. This was where they’d thought she was a thief and where she’d thought she was going insane for the first time.
In many ways, that situation had been better than the current one. When she’d had amnesia, she’d had nowhere to go, and could stay with the man she loved…
Now, she had a purpose, somewhere to go back to. Mandy and Jax needed her to provide for them. They must be worrying like crazy by now. Thor stopped, and Kate glanced at the eastern tower, where in 2020 she’d fallen down the stairs and stumbled upon the rock that would bring her to Ian. A shiver ran through her at the thought of going back to that dark, dank cavern again.
Men hurried towards Thor with a litter, and Kate helped them take Ian carefully down. Ahearn, the steward, hurried towards them.
“’Tis ye again!” he cried. “The thief.”
Kate climbed down and walked after the men carrying Ian. “I’m not a thief. I’m a cook. I never took anything from you. Ian needs your help, and I brought him here, that’s all. Now, will you help me take care of him or will you continue your baseless accusations?”
“Someone call Ellair!” he yelled.
“Already done,” one of the men said.
“Take him to my bedchamber,” Kenneth MacKenzie said. The castle constable had appeared from somewhere and watched Ian with a concern.
“Thank you, sir,” Kate said.
He glanced at her with a frown but only nodded.
The men walked to Comyn Tower, as they’d call it, and Kate followed them. They put him on a giant bed in the lord’s bedchamber, which was bigger than Ian’s bedroom in Dundail. He lay so pale, almost gray against the pillows. Kate’s heart squeezed.
Ellair came in.
“Please, help him,” Kate whispered.
He barely glanced at her and continued into the room. He proceeded to clean the wounds, then sewed the ones on Ian’s side, thigh, and head. He put some herbal poultices on them and covered them with
