The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(98)

He went stone still. His face drained, as what could only be described as blood-curdling fear rushed through him. It wasn’t possible.

But it was. His wife stood before him. Her big, tear-filled eyes locked on his, dominating her pale, heart-shaped face. For a moment time seemed to stop. They stared at each other, something big and powerful passing between them. An emotion so foreign Tor didn’t even know how to describe it, except that it filled his chest with a hot ball of pain and horror.

She could have been killed.

He wanted to let out a primal roar, but what she did next stopped him cold. Heedless of anything around them, or the blood and gore that stained the ground and him, she catapulted herself into his arms.

His heart slammed against his ribs. Something shifted inside him. Something warm and powerful.

Holding her tight in his arms, he murmured soothing words, comforting not only the sobbing woman in his arms, but also himself.

Through her tears, Christina gazed up at the filthy, bloodstained man holding her. She’d never been happier to see anyone in her life. Her eyes widened, noticing the large cut on his face and the bruise near his eye. “You’re hurt,” she cried, reaching up to cup his face.

But he shook her off. “I’m fine,” he said gruffly.

Christina frowned. He could play big, invincible warrior with his men, but once she got him back to the castle she would see to that wound whether he wanted her to or not. “I’m so glad you are safe. There were so many galleys.”

They couldn’t see the fighting from the church, but when they’d heard the roar go up, she knew it was her husband.

Tor was dumbstruck. “Me?” She could see his incredulity slip into anger. He held her by the shoulders and seemed to be fighting not to shake her. “Are you daft? What about you? Do you know what would have happened had I not arrived?”

He’s scared. Worry for her was making him angry. Why had she never realized it before? It shed an entirely new light on his blasts of temper. “I was safe in the sanctuary of the church with some of the others. Brother John thought of it.” She smiled at the clerk, who’d come up behind her.

Tor looked mildly annoyed to see him. “Not all men heed the sanctuary of the church.”

“Which was why your men insisted on guarding the door rather than joining the others. I was in no danger, truly.” She’d been terrified, but given his present mood, she decided to save that information for later. “Even if they violated sanctuary, Brother John had me hidden under the seat of the confessional. They never would have found me.”

Tor turned to the clerk, and though it looked as if it pained him, he said, “It seems I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

The praise flustered the young churchman. An embarrassed flush rose to his thin, freckled cheeks. “I only wish that we’d been able to return to the castle in time. I can’t tell you how happy we were to hear you and your men arrive. It sounded like you had an army with you.” He looked around and frowned. “Where did they go?”

“I returned early and was able to gather men from the castle,” Tor explained. “They’ve gone after the attackers.”

A dubious frown wrinkled the clerk’s forehead. Christina feared Tor’s explanation had not satisfied him. “I see,” Brother John said.

“Who were they?” Christina asked. “Why would they attack us like that?”

“I don’t know,” Tor said grimly. “But I intend to find out.”

From the merciless look on his face, Christina almost pitied the man responsible when he did. She’d carefully avoided looking at the ground behind him but could not escape the horror completely. The sickly scent of death hung in the air. She didn’t need to look at the bodies to know they were there.

Tor seemed to remember their surroundings at the same time. Taking her by the arm, he attempted to steer her away. “Come—”

She jerked back, her eye catching something that made her look down.

God, she wished she hadn’t.

“Don’t.” He tried to pull her away, but she yanked her arm from his hold.

“No,” she gasped. Her stomach curdled, bile rising up the back of her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth, as if she could hold back the nausea that threatened. She took a few steps forward and dropped to her knees, horror and despair washing over her.

The body of a woman lay facedown across the body of a small boy. She knew them both. The reeve’s wife and son. Trembling, she reached out and smoothed her hand over the child’s blond, silky hair. It was still warm from the sun. Tears burned her eyes. She looked up to her husband, stacked with muscle and armor, a looming shadow against the sun. How could he do this? How could he surround himself with death all the time? How did he not die from the horror of it? “What kind of monster would do such a thing? Who could harm a child?”

He shook his head grimly.

All of a sudden she had a horrible thought. One that made the pressure in her chest burn. God, was this her fault? “Could it have been MacDougall?”

Tor’s jaw hardened as if he knew what she was thinking. Had he thought it, too? “Possibly. But there are others as well.”

She looked back to the mother and child, tears sliding down her cheeks, praying that this had nothing to do with her.

“Come.” Tor carefully drew her away. “Don’t think about it.”