An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(35)

“Find them! They can't get away!” That wasn't a Scottish voice, that accent was English.

What was happening? Were they looking for Hugh or her?

They both lay still, hardly daring to breathe.

She glanced at Hugh's face, saw that his eyes were closed. At first, she thought he was unconscious, but then she saw the grimace of pain in his expression. She noted that the arrow had fully pierced his thigh, perhaps a hand's width of the shaft with the bloodied arrowhead protruding from a point along the front of his thigh, having entered from behind.

Another flash of lightning, followed again by a rumble of thunder rolled across the gray sky.

Dalla tried to make herself sink deeper into the soft, loamy soil beneath her, praying that the attackers, whoever they were, didn't see them through the shrubs. She heard them moving around, and then, ever so gradually, the men moved away, and the sounds disappeared. They remained unmoving, listening.

All was silent, save the sound of the rain pattering onto the tree leaves and then dropping to the ground with soft plops. A cool, wet breeze ruffled her hair. Without moving, she glanced down to find Hugh tightly clasping the shaft of the arrow in his leg, blood continuing to ooze through his fingers. With a grunt, he grabbed the arrow protruding from the front of his thigh with both hands, and gritting his teeth, broke the shaft with a garbled cry of pain. He lay back, panting.

“Pull it out,” he finally murmured.

What? He wanted her to pull out the arrow? She gazed down at him, eyes wide with fear.

“Do it… I can't. Pull it out. In one movement. You… must pull with all your strength.”

“But—”

“Do it now!” he hissed.

She scrambled back, took a deep breath, and then grasped the shaft still protruding from the back of his thigh tightly with both her hands. Then, biting her lip, she yanked. Hard.

At first, nothing happened.

“Harder!” he gasped.

She put her back into it, and in one, hard tug, the arrow slid free, caked with blood and—

Dalla landed hard on her backside, barely squelching the urge to throw up. Hugh lay stiffly, panting for breath. He either felt it was all right or was too weak to protest.

“We have to find some shelter,” she said, the statement obvious. “I'm going to look for shelter, or at least somewhere we can hide and take care of your leg,” she said, again leaning close to his ear.

He barely managed to shake his head. “No… wait… too dangerous…”

This time it was she who shook her head. “If I don't do something about that wound, you might bleed to death, and soon!”

Without waiting for his reply, she quickly scrambled away, hiding behind a nearby tree as she slowly rose to her knees, peeking this way and that.

Rain pattered onto her head, and cold drops trickled down her neck. She ignored the pain in her own leg as she tried to stand. When she placed even the slightest weight on it, a shaft of pain jolted upward, but she could bear it. She would need a crutch of some sort. Looking around, she found a fallen tree branch, maybe half as tall as she was, but it would do.

Grabbing onto it, she lifted herself upright, placing most of her weight on that stout piece of wood. Another almost blinding flash of lightning and crackle of thunder exploded overhead.

At first, she cursed the rain and the storm, but then realized that it would, although uncomfortable, provide them with a benefit. The rain would hide any trace of them or any trail they left.

Wincing and trying to ignore the pain with every step she took, she sought a hiding place, preferably one that would take them out of the rain. She looked for a cave or an indentation in the rocks, something with an overhang. If she had to, she'd look for low-hanging tree branches from one of these huge pines that might at the very least offer some shelter from the weather.

Upslope, she saw a slit of shadow, dark black, behind the growth of some type of berry bush. Most of the berries that remained were dried up and withered now, so late in the season. She brushed a few branches aside, stumbling forward to take a better look at the gap in the rocks. It was perhaps twice as wide as she, and as she studied it, she realized that it widened gradually. It wasn't deep, but it would be enough to hide them and keep Hugh out of the rain while they determined the severity of his injury.

As quickly as she could, she scrambled back to his location. If anything, he looked worse than he had just moments ago. Her heart sank, and fear burgeoned. What would she do if something happened to him? Where would she go? She swallowed her panic and focused on him.

Painfully, she got down on one knee and placed her hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up at her.

“I found a small cave—or almost a cave, a short distance away, but it's going to be difficult—”

“Help me up.”

Her nerves frayed, her heart pounding, fearful that those men would come back at any moment, Dalla reached for Hugh's uplifted hand. Bracing herself on her good leg, she tugged, while with a groan of effort, he managed to get himself up onto one knee. He breathed heavily, trying to hide a grimace of pain, without success. Not thinking twice about it, she shuffled forward, still using the stick of wood to brace her injured knee.

She bent under his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders. She didn't expect to be able to hold his weight completely, but she could help. They made a fine pair, didn't they? She with an injured knee, him with a wound bleeding in his left thigh.