He’d leave Mari a widow, just as he’d expected.
As darkness came for him, he truly wished he’d been wrong about that.
…
Mari stood at the battlements next to Kenna as the men approached. At first they were too far away to distinguish individuals, but as they came into sight, Mari checked the men, knowing Cam would be the tallest of them. He sat his horse nearly a head taller than the other men.
She didn’t see him.
Scanning the line again, she waited. There were still more warriors cresting the hill, and while Cam’s place as war chief was at the front, leading his men, it was possible he’d trailed behind to speak to someone.
That excuse was quickly brushed aside as they approached the gate. There was no way a war chief wouldn’t enter the castle with his flags flying, if he were able.
“Cam,” she whispered fearfully. “Oh, God.”
Kenna said something, but Mari was already running for the stairs and down to the bailey. She’d just cleared the gates when the first men rode in looking battle-weary but happy.
The crowd that had gathered for their return cheered as Lachlan made the announcement of their victory. That was all well and good, but she still hadn’t set eyes on her husband.
“Brother?” she called to get Lachlan’s attention.
He frowned and slid down from his horse, patting a few backs as he fought his way through the growing crowd to get to her.
“Where is he?” she asked, her voice sounding so small she wondered how he’d heard her with all the noise around them.
“He’s sure to be fine. He’s coming along in the wagon now. He was injured. It’s made him cranky, but he’ll be all right. We’ll have Kenna and Abagail take a look at him as soon as he’s brought in.”
Mari twisted her fingers together as she nervously waited for the wagon to drive into the bailey. She didn’t even wait for it to stop before she climbed up into the back. There were two men bouncing along. One man was staring up at the sky in death.
The other, thank God, was her husband.
“Help me get him inside,” she ordered as if she were still a duchess at Blackley House in London. Here at Dunardry she had no authority, but the men listened anyway. They hurried to take Cam into the keep and straight up to their room.
He still hadn’t spoken or so much as moaned. His eyes were closed, and the gray color of his skin startled her.
“Cam?” She settled by his side and placed her hand on his cool cheek. “Husband?”
Then she moved his ratty plaid away and saw blood covering his chest. His shirt was soaked with it.
“Kenna!” she screamed, earning a slight wince from Cam. “Cam? Please hang on. Kenna will help.” Leaving him alone in their room and sprinting to the door, she nearly ran into Kenna and Abagail. “Help him, please.”
“Light the fire and get a pot of water to boil,” Abagail ordered.
Mari was grateful to have something useful to do and turned to her task.
“Cam, can you hear me?” Kenna said, and Mari paused to see if her husband responded. A slight grunt from the bed nearly made her drop the pot. She let out a breath in relief.
She knew he was far from fine, but he had responded. There was hope.
Abagail cut off Cam’s shirt in one quick move and hummed in disapproval, only glancing at the gash before looking away.
Mari’s hands trembled as she bent to start a fire. It took a few tries, but soon there was a blaze glowing in the fireplace, and she placed the pot over it to boil. She left the room briefly to gather linens, then started ripping them into strips for bandages.
When she returned, she stayed off in a corner, out of the way. She told herself she kept back so the others could help him, but in truth she was afraid to get too close. Afraid he wouldn’t make it. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, for she was too much a coward. She’d come to need this man for much more than his protection.
Using her arm she wiped a tear from her cheek and focused on the small part she could do to help the man she loved.
Lachlan came into the room with a scowl. “How is he?” He directed his question to Kenna, who was handling the situation like a warrior.
“The cut on his chest needs to be stitched. He’s lost a fair amount of blood.”
“Check him over well. I saw him lying in the field, and before I could get to him I saw a horse run past. It may have stepped on him. I wasn’t close enough to know for sure.”
At that, Mari gasped and came back to Cam’s side. She took his hand, hoping he wasn’t bleeding internally. Many times when a horse stepped on someone, the injury was not easily seen.
Abagail added her own assessment. “A few ribs are broken. Nothing too bad. You stitch him, Kenna. You’ve a fine hand.”
Mari turned away so as not to tell them to hurry. It didn’t matter how the stitches looked—the man was already covered with scars. They needed to stop the bleeding quickly. They needed to save him.
How had she become so reliant on this man in such a short time? She’d not wanted to marry, yet now she couldn’t imagine the pain of losing her husband. So much had changed.
“Mari, open the window so we can get fresh air,” Abagail said.
She did as she was asked, feeling helpless. She wished she could take her husband’s care into her own hands. She knew a bit about healing, but unfortunately she’d been on the wrong end of it to do any good now. The few times the duke had allowed a doctor to be called, she’d been in too much pain to pay close attention to the practice.
“Mari,” Cam whispered so low she thought she might have imagined it.
When the other women looked at her expectantly, she hurried to his side. “I’m here.”
“Sorry…promise…”
It only took her a second to realize he was speaking of the promise she’d forced from him before he left.
“Shh. Don’t worry. I knew what could happen. I made you say those words so I would feel better. It was wrong for me to ask it of you. Besides, you promised to come back, and you did come back.”
He winked at her.
“Save your strength.”
“Stay,” he said, squeezing her hand.
“Of course. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
“Always.”
She smiled and kissed the back of his hand. “If that’s what you want, then fine. I shall stay forever.”
His lips moved in the slightest hint of a smile.