Emlyn scowled and shook her head. He’d never mentioned that he knew of such matters or had such skill. “We need to get him away from here.”

“I agree,” Laird Gunn said. “Kenneth, carry him upon your horse. We’ll find a safe place to camp for the night and tend to James.”

Emlyn retrieved her horse and held the reins of James’ until Colm came and took them from her. His horse tried to bite her shoulder and was of an ornery nature.

“He don’t like anyone but James,” he said, with amusement.

As soon as Kenneth placed James on his horse, they set off. Emlyn trailed behind him and worried the entire way. Colm rode next to her and kept James’ horse on the other side, far enough away from his.

“Worry not, he’ll be well. James wouldn’t dare die on us.”

“You speak as though he has a choice in the matter.”

Their laird led them over an open expanse of a field to a hillier terrain. Once they passed the hills, they reached the woods and night had fallen.

She sidled next to Kenneth. “How is he?”

“He groaned a few times. I deem he’ll be well once we can lay him down and tend to the wound. Appears he hit his head when he fell, for there’s a good-sized bump there.” Kenneth continued to keep a hand fastened to James’ tunic so he wouldn’t fall off his horse.

“How much further?” she asked the laird.

“Just ahead. There’s a stream. We’ll stop there for the night.”

Emlyn was ready to fall from her horse as exhaustion began to wear on her. She couldn’t wait until they stopped. Not only to ensure James would be well, but because she needed rest. The sound of water came, and she was happy they’d reached the stream. She slid from her horse and took her satchel. By the time she reached James’ side, he was placed on a tartan, face down. His tunic was ripped away and Kenneth knelt next to him, studying the gash.

“James, open your eyes. Look at me.” He didn’t respond to her pleas. Emlyn grabbed his tunic and used her dagger to cut it into smaller pieces.

Sean made a fire and Kenneth set a small cauldron over it. When it was warm enough, she set a piece of the cloth in it and used it to clean James’ wound.

“What’d you do that for?”

She glanced at Sean. “I’m cleaning the wound. Is that not what the water is for?”

“Nay, it’s for our supper. Now I’ll have to start over.” He scoffed and dumped the caldron and set off to refill it.

When he returned, Emlyn scowled, for they were the least caring men she’d ever met. “How can you be so unfeeling?”

“Me unfeeling? James knows I follow the directions our cook gave me when I’m making supper. I don’t stray from her instructions. Now I have to start over …”

Sean baffled her, and she couldn’t help smiling at him.

“Besides, milady, his injury is not grave. He’ll come to when he’s ready.”

Emlyn continued to clean the wound and when she finished, she placed one of the dry pieces of the tunic over it. Colm tried to hand her a bowl, but she refused it.

How they could eat at time like this was beyond her. Emlyn rummaged through her satchel and saw a gown in it, one she hadn’t brought along. She pondered briefly how it had gotten there, but was in a hurry to find her extra tunic to place on James, knowing he would need it. The darker it got, the colder it became.

She found the small container of Pair Dadeni water and wondered if it would work.

“What have you there?” Kenneth asked.

“Water from the cauldron of rebirth. It is known to be healing.” Emlyn poured most of it over James’ wound, but decided he may have a need of it all. She dumped the remaining liquid on the bump on his head, and heard him groan.

“See, milady, he lives,” Colm said, while continuing to eat.

Emlyn pulled her cloak around her shoulders and lay next to James. She watched his face for any sign that he’d awakened, but he showed none. He looked beautiful and peaceful in his sleep, and if she didn’t have four hardened warriors staring at her, she would’ve kissed him.

Chapter Sixteen

James blinked and tried to remember what happened to him. He felt warm and comfortable. When he was able to focus his eyes, he noticed Emlyn beside him. She slept soundly with her lovely lips parted. How he wanted to kiss her, but she was too far from him and he was hesitant to move. A small pain stitched his back and his head hurt a wee bit, but otherwise, he didn’t notice anything else wrong with him.

He remembered falling, and something sticking him, but nothing else. He had no idea how he got to where he was, but his comrades lay around him. James realized he wasn’t dead. Someone definitely tried to kill him during the attack, but the last thing he recalled seeing was Emlyn looking oddly at him.

He rolled on to his side and pulled the cloak off him and set it over Emlyn. He smiled to himself, knowing the cloak was hers.

“She cares about me.”

“What did ye say? What has you smiling so early in the morn. You detest the morn.” Kenneth knelt next to him and handed a horn to him.

“My thanks,” he said and drank down the ale and handed the horn back. “I said … never ye mind. What is on my back?”

“Milady tried to patch you up. She put a piece of your tunic over the wound.”

“She cut my tunic? It was my favorite one. Damnation,” he said with disgruntlement. “Remove it, will you?”

Kenneth did as he bade and pulled it off.

“She had ye dead and buried for all her worrying,” Colm said.

“Women are funny that way,” Grey said.

“She tended ye and even though we told her you would survive, she continued her ministrations,” Kenneth said, and tried to hand him a hunk of bread.

James refused it. He was surprised to learn of her concern for him. The warrior in her gave over to the tenderness of her feminine side. She was beginning to soften toward him. That made him grin and when his comrades gave him odd looks, he suppressed his smile.

“She killed the man who struck you,” Duff said.

“I’m not surprised to hear that.”

“Surprised to hear what?” Emlyn rolled to her side and watched him.

“To hear that I was struck.”

“Are you well enough to ride?” Grey asked.

“Aye, I deem so.” James stood, and didn’t feel the least bit weakened by the ordeal. He found the tunic he wore a wee bit tight. With a click to his tongue, he called forth his horse.

The beast came trotting toward him at a break-neck speed. James met him before he trampled near the fire and snatched his reins to get him to stop. He petted him and pulled his bag from the saddle. At the bottom, he found a tunic and he set about the replacing the one he wore. He had a little trouble removing it and Emlyn stepped toward him and assisted.

Her fingers felt warm and tender against his chest as she slid the fabric over his head. She inspected his wound before tugging another tunic over his back. He handed her the tunic she’d lent him.

“It appears to be healing and is not bleeding. It could use a stitch.”

“It was but a scratch and nothing to worry over.”

“It is more than a scratch, James.” She bunched up the old tunic, she’d taken from him and went to retrieve the rest of her belongings from the tartan on the ground.

James helped his comrades pack up the camp by taking up several tartans, and stood awaiting everyone. As soon as they were ready, he mounted his horse, and they headed toward home.

He stayed next to Emlyn during the day’s trek. For several hours they all remained quiet, but then James broke the silence. “I need to give you my thanks.”

She glanced at him and then returned her gaze ahead. “For what?”

“For tending my wound. It hurts nary as much since you cared for it.”

“You would’ve done the same for me, for they told me you are a healer.”