An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(37)

Her helplessness appalled her. She could not identify edible from non-editable plants in these wild lands, and was not educated in the least rudimentary basics of healing, and…

Well, she had plenty of faults, but there was a couple of things she could do. She could try to make Hugh as comfortable as she could. She could maybe start a fire, if she found any dry kindling after the rain, which was doubtful.

Then again, she was hesitant to do even that, however, worried that the glow of firelight might be visible from downslope, or that the breeze would carry the scent of the fire to whoever had attacked them.

As she sat in the growing darkness, listening to Hugh breathe, catching her own breath every time his breath hitched, she began to take stock. Her knee throbbed relentlessly. Numerous scratches, some of them surprisingly deep from her own misadventure in the thorny brush, constantly served as reminders of her own foolishness.

Other than that, and the fact that she was extremely frightened, she was in good health. But Hugh, he was another matter entirely. Every once in a while, a severe shiver took hold of his body, to the point where his teeth chattered. It frightened her.

At one point, she reached forward to touch his forehead and found it warm. Fever warm. She berated her sense of helplessness.

In the waning light of day, she studied his profile, and despite the danger of their present situation, admired his handsome features. He looked so much less intimidating at the moment, the angles of this face were less defined, almost… vulnerable. He was vulnerable. Vulnerable to fever, to bleeding to death, to dying of exposure…

“Stop it,” she muttered to herself.

“What?”

The sound of his deep voice startled her, and she gasped, then collected her senses.

“I think I stopped the bleeding in your leg, but I fear you're developing a fever.” She paused. “I don't know what to do to help you.”

He said nothing.

“We have no water, no food. Any kindling I find outside is going to be wet and will only smoke, even if I knew how to start a fire.”

Again, he said nothing.

“And even if I did manage to start a fire, I'm afraid that whoever is—or was—following us will see it or smell the smoke in the air.”

The sound of the quick moving storm had moved south, only dull rumbles and occasional flashes of lightning now. It was quiet for several moments, and then he spoke.

“Carefully, take a look outside. The rain should have washed… our tracks away, so don't make any fresh ones.” He paused, grimacing in pain. “Use your eyes only. Look for my horse. He should be nearby.”

He didn't say anything after that, and when Dalla leaned closer to look at him, she saw that he had fallen asleep again. Even if she did see his horse, then what?

She would never get Hugh onto it, not in his condition. Even moving him would threaten to start the bleeding again and she didn't think he would survive that. Then again, if she could catch his horse, she could find her way back down to the hut, gather their supplies, what little food there was there, and bring it back.

Slowly, she crawled to the cleft in the wall, staying low, peeking through the branches of the shrub that hid the opening. She didn't see or hear anything. Using the wall as support, the rock solid and slippery with rain beside her, she slowly stood, favoring her injured leg, still keeping her body hidden in the cleft. While she could see a little further, she didn't see anything but trees, shrubs, rocks, and the mountain spires rising above. Ugly looking clouds gathered above. Such an unforgiving and wild landscape.

She took a step beyond the opening, balancing herself on the rock wall while remaining behind the brush, moving off to the right. She sought any kind of movement, but nothing was out there. Nothing moved, save the tops of the trees, still waving slightly in the breeze. Leaves shivered in the cooling air, the heavy plop of raindrops falling from their uppermost limbs.

She caught a shadow of something from the corner of her eye and turned toward it, her heart pounding. What if those men were still out there? What if they had found their hiding place?

On closer inspection, she realized that the shadow down below in the trees didn't move like a man. At first, she thought it was a deer, but it was too large. Then she recognized Hugh's horse.

Hugh was right! His horse had come back!

She quickly hurried back into the cave to tell Hugh, but he was still sleeping or unconscious. She couldn't rouse him.

They had supplies back at the hut. If someone was truly after her, or him, they certainly wouldn't expect them to go back there, would they? She wouldn't have to get too close to it to determine whether it was occupied. If it looked deserted, she would return to it, grab as many of their supplies as she could, and then return to the cave.

Gently, she nudged Hugh's shoulder.

Nothing.

She tried again. “Hugh!”

He groaned in response.

“Open your eyes, I need to tell you something.”

He seemed to struggle for several moments, and then she saw the glint of his gaze in the near darkness.

“What… what is it?”

“Your horse is down there. I'm going to go back to the hut, get our supplies—”

“No… too dangerous.”

“Look, we have no food, no water, and you're badly injured. We can't make a fire. We need blankets. I'm going.”