Page 81 of Ella’s Desire

It was Lark who knelt by him, frozen in horror.

“Lark,” Bronson said. Or rather, he meant to say. Her name came out in a low grunt.

“I had to,” she whispered. “I had to.” Her frightened stare fluttered around before settling on Bronson’s side. “You’re hurt.”

“’Tis nothing.” He looked down for the first time at his side where the dagger jutted from his body. There was a momentary disconnect with his person, as if the wounded torso he gazed down upon was not his own, but that of one belonging to someone else. The lightheadedness returned.

Rather than give into it, he gripped the hilt and yanked. Searing pain ripped through his side. Blood seeped from the wound, nearly invisible against his dark gambeson, save for the glistening wet that caught the moonlight.

“Bronson,” Ella gasped. Her battle axe was tucked in her hands once more, the blade bloody with the success of her chase.

“’Tis naught but a scratch,” he lied. “We need to go now.” He indicated the bodies on the ground.

Ella nodded tentatively, and together they ran the most treacherous part of their escape. Every step Bronson took, a fresh stab of agony gripped him.

He gritted his teeth through the pain, shoving his hand against the wound to staunch as much of the bleeding as he could, and tried to keep up with Ella and the girls.

He would not be the cause of them slowing. Step by step, he pushed through the awfulness of the pain. They were near the stone structure now. The horses would be within, ready to ride.

Bronson cringed at the thought of being on horseback—each gallop of hooves jarring his body would be more excruciating. He was falling behind. Going too slow. He hissed hard through his breathing and urged his heavy legs to keep pace. But his body was too weary to comply. A high bit of grass caught at his shoe and sent him staggering. His steps were too clumsy and the pain too intense.

God’s bones, so damn intense.

Spots of white winked in his vision and the lightheadedness returned with a vengeance. Bile rose in his throat and his mouth filled with saliva as though he was going to purge.

They were at the stone structure now. Someone was speaking, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to listen, not with the white-hot blaze at his side. He caught himself on the stone wall. It was firm beneath his grip, cold and rough on his palm.

But it was not enough.

The world tipped around him until the bright stars overhead tangled with the spots in his vision. They spun about together and left his mind reeling. He pressed his hand to his side, shoving at the wound with all the strength he could muster. The action felt like he was shoving fistfuls of coals into his body, but at least it would slow the bleeding.

Suddenly there was the sweet, wonderful scent of sunshine. And flowers. Of Ella. She was there over him, peering down and blocking out the light of the moon. Her hand was cool on his cheek.

“Bronson, can you hear me?” she asked.

He nodded.

“You’ll be fine,” she said. Her voice choked off, as though she meant to say more, but could not.

“We must leave,” he groaned. “Now.” He rolled to his good side to sit.

“Don’t.” Ella’s hand pressed to his chest. “Let Leila—”

“Now,” he ground out. “It’ll help no one if we’re all dead.” With that, he used the force of urgency in his own tone to lunge to his knees, and from there, to his feet.

“Stay on the horse with me,” he said in a low tone to Ella. If he began to fall, he knew she would be strong enough to hold him upright. He would not risk hurting one of the girls by dragging them down with him.

Ella flicked a glance behind them. The area was still empty. For now. It would not be for long. Not when the bodies were found, and surely that was only a matter of minutes. Bronson forced his body to move, walking toward the horses that were being held by Lark and Leila outside the stone building. Using the strength of his good side, he swung up onto Kipper’s back. The horse shifted beneath him and whinnied, but Ella spoke in hushed, soothing tones. Finally, the beast settled and the movement of protest ceased.

Those damn stars returned. Winking and blinking. Taunting Bronson toward falling once more. He squeezed his hands into fists and breathed through his nose, steadying himself. He would not fall.

Ella settled behind him as Leila and Lark climbed onto Bronson’s horse. Frantic tension hung in the air, scrabbling at them all with maddening urgency. With a flick of the reins, the horses shot forward in a full gallop.

Bronson kept his hand firmly planted against his side and clenched his eyes shut against the pain. But no matter how hard he ground his teeth to allay the torment, the damn thing burned like a hot poker had been jabbed into him.

Ella’s arms tightened on either side of him. “We’ll stop soon.”

“Nay,” Bronson said firmly. He chanced a look back where the valley was beginning to disappear. Despite the full light of the moon, it was difficult to make out if the scenery was empty, or if the reivers were chasing them.