Part 4 (1/2)
”What happened?” he asked.
It all came rus.h.i.+ng back and fresh fear p.r.i.c.kled all over her body as she scanned the area for Wodge. The big downed tree was gone. Shrubs and saplings grew all around the clearing, and there was no sign of him.
”You got shot,” she told him, brus.h.i.+ng his hair off his forehead. ”Oliver did the spell and ... something happened.”
She got up and after a moment to find her balance, ran around the perimeter, poking under bushes and kicking at leaves to make sure Wodge hadn't come with them. There was no sign of him, and the horses they'd ridden in on were nowhere to be seen either.
”Did it work?” Oliver asked weakly, crawling over and inspecting Quinn's wound.
Quinn swore and closed his eyes as Oliver prodded at him. Lizzie dropped down next to him and took his unresponsive hand. Before she could yelp with fear, Oliver held up his hand.
”He's just pa.s.sed out from the pain. Look, the ball's still in.” He swallowed, looking like he might be ill again. ”I think it hit the bone. He'll need more help than we can give him.”
”I'll go to the castle,” she said, noticing Oliver's face for the first time. ”Dear G.o.d, did he actually break your nose?”
Oliver blushed. ”Yes,” he said shortly. He nodded his head in the direction of the castle. ”Do you think we're in the right time?”
She stood up, feeling less confident than a second before when she volunteered to go for help. ”Well, we're in some time,” she said. ”Someone will be there, right?”
”He told me the Fergusons and Glens were never that friendly.”
”Then we won't tell them who he is,” she snapped, heading away.
She was as scared as Oliver, but they couldn't sit around hoping for the best. Not with Quinn bleeding freely all over the forest floor. Nausea hit her and she rushed back. Ignoring Oliver's questioning look, she knelt beside Quinn and kissed his forehead, then his lips.
His eyes opened again, unfocused and dark with pain. ”Lizzie,” he said.
”Yes,” she answered, leaning close to hear his strained voice.
”Find Catie and make it right, aye?” His eyes drifted shut and she turned to Oliver to see if he'd heard.
Her cheeks burned with shame, even though he hadn't said the words in a judgemental manner, she felt the weight of her guilt, even somehow feeling responsible for his being shot. She should have found a way to stop Wodge. She shoved back up to her feet and took off, determined to end this nightmare. ”I'll be back straight away with help,” she tossed over her shoulder to Oliver.
It was rough going, winding through the trees and jumping over rocks and logs. She got hit in the face with low hanging branches the second she looked down at her feet, and tripped over something if she kept her eyes up. An eternity seemed to pa.s.s and she worried she'd veered off track when the trees finally thinned out and she saw the castle in the distance.
At the edge of the forest, she leaned over, gasping for breath. She'd run flat out for at least a half hour and still had to go down one hill and up another to reach the castle's back courtyard. Even from this distance she could make out people milling around, tiny dots that signified help for Quinn.
Lifting her skirts, she tore forward with renewed energy. After everything, she couldn't let Quinn die. Of all the self-pitying scenarios she'd played in her head while traveling with Wodge, Quinn getting hurt had never factored into any of them. It was beyond anything she could imagine, losing him so completely.
She slowed down on the way to the courtyard, seeing with dismay that the people were all still wearing eighteenth century clothes. If they'd gone forward at all, it wasn't far. She shuddered to think they might have gone backwards. She stopped at a low stone wall surrounding a small fruit orchard and tried to decide what to do. Run in yelling for help, or pick out one person and ask discreetly?
”Who are ye, la.s.s?” A sharp sounding female voice asked from behind her and she whirled around to see a pet.i.te woman with reddish brown hair holding a baby and staring her down. A young boy ran up and tucked himself under her arm.
”Oh, h.e.l.lo,” Lizzie said. ”I- please, can you help me? My companions and I were traveling through the woods, and a - a bandit attacked us.”
She twisted her skirt and slumped, exhausted. It was the worst lie, with an even worse delivery. She expected the woman to start screaming for help, but instead she took a few steps closer, inspecting her with wide eyes.
”b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, it canna be,” she said. She stared at Lizzie for another long moment. ”Ye are not from around here are ye?”
She groaned, remembering the animosity against the English in this time. She should have done an accent, but it was too late now. Before she could think of something without name dropping the Fergusons, the woman spoke again, her voice low.
”Ye're from another time, aye?”
Lizzie reached out and grabbed the stone wall, sitting down hard on the edge. ”What?” she asked, to make sure she wasn't hearing things. She had to be hearing things.
”Never mind, la.s.s,” she said quickly. ”Ye were accosted in the woods ye say?”
”Yes, my companion is badly hurt.” Lizzie held out her hands. ”Please, I beg of you.”
The woman gave the baby to the young boy and tilted his chin up to look at him. ”Take your sister to Mrs. Maxwell, then tell your da to meet me at the stable. Hurry, lad.” She ruffled his hair and gave him a shove. He went as quickly as he could without dropping the baby and the woman walked toward the stable.
Nearly crying with grat.i.tude, Lizzie followed her, wordlessly accepting a stone jug full of cool water and gulping it down. By the time they made it to the stable, a tall, rangy man with blond hair and sunkissed golden skin strode to meet them, dropping a kiss on the tiny woman's head. She pulled him away, and he leaned down to listen to what she animatedly told him, both of them glancing at Lizzie a few times.
Horses were ordered, and the man strapped on a pistol along with his sword. Lizzie didn't care if they didn't trust her as long as they went with her. In fact, it would be in her best interest if more than just this one man came with them.
”I'm so grateful for your help,” she said, stepping forward and interrupting their secretive little chat. ”But the man who is hurt is quite big. And unconscious.”
They exchanged looks and after a moment, the man sent someone to fetch the physician and called for a burly guard to go with them. Lizzie faltered on her first attempt to mount the horse. The run to the castle, the days of little sleep and less food, and all the constant fear, was catching up with her, making it difficult to concentrate or stay upright. She clung to the saddle and through some miracle managed to guide them back to the clearing.
The group from the castle stayed behind her and she had a sinking feeling she'd made the wrong decision when she reined in her horse and slid to the ground. She hurried back to Quinn. If they were all about to be slaughtered by the Glens, she want to be holding onto him when it happened.
Oliver had him propped up against a tree and he was awake, but his face was pale and drawn. When she knelt at his side, he glanced weakly at her, giving her a smile. She turned around to face everyone, belligerently prepared to die.
”I knew it!” the woman squealed, dropping down beside him and grabbing his hand. ”Quinn Ferguson, as I live and breathe. What have ye got yourself into this time?”
Quinn turned to her and laughed, which turned into a cough. ”Bella Glen, ye wee harridan. I canna believe it.” Lizzie watched him bring the woman's hand to his lips and press a kiss to it. Her heart raced with confusion and jealousy. ”When is the babe due? Ye hardly show. Have we not been gone at all?”
”Ye simpleton, ye've been gone seven years. We have three children now, two lads and a wee la.s.s.”
Quinn breathed out a quiet swear word before covering his mouth in dismay. Now the blond man dismounted and strode over, leaning down to look at Quinn's shoulder. Quinn reached up and took his hand in a brief grip before dropping his arm back to his side.
”Pietro. It's wonderful to see ye, but we werena supposed to be here.”
”Well, it wouldn't be the first time ye screwed up, aye?” He smiled at Quinn and motioned for the physician to come over. ”We'll get this scratch fixed up in no time. And it's so verra good to see ye, too.” The man called Pietro turned to Lizzie and smiled, pulling her out of earshot of the others. ”Bella swears ye are from another time, and she likes to be right. Ye can tell me true, la.s.s, for I understand all too well.”
”How did she know?” Lizzie asked.
Bella poked her head under Pietro's arm much the same as the young boy had done to her earlier. ”When ye're married to someone from the distant future, ye tend to notice such things.”
Lizzie looked at Pietro again, struggling to recognize what Bella might be seeing. ”You?” she asked.
He nodded. ”Aye. She's verra discerning. I'm certain ye've been fooling everyone else just fine.”
Lizzie was more confused than ever, but at least Quinn was getting the help he needed. She hoped so, anyway, not sure she wasn't hallucinating all this. Oliver walked over and took her arm.
”Come sit down, Miss Burnet,” he said, nodding politely to Bella and Pietro before leading her away.
She followed Oliver and sat down in a patch of moss, which looked soft and pillowy but was hard, cold, and slightly damp. She was too tired to move. Oliver sat next to her and she pointed out Bella and Pietro, explaining to him that they knew, and weren't at all shocked.
”Can you believe that?” she asked him, resting against the closest tree.