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Hamish’s eye twitched, his nostrils flared. He shoved Amber away from the blond man and slashed his sword at him. The man deflected the blow, astonishment on his face.

“Go, Amber!” Hamish barked. “Now!”

Amber turned and ran towards Owen. De Bourgh had just raised his sword over his head and was about to kill Owen.

“No!” she yelled, her screech enough to distract the man.

With all her might, she stabbed her sword at de Bourgh, but the blade only jumped off the iron armor without penetrating it. At least she’d stopped the blow aimed for Owen’s head. De Bourgh staggered forward and looked at her, surprise and annoyance distorting his face.

Owen stared at her with wide eyes.

Damn, that gash on his thigh didn’t look good at all. “You won’t take him from me,” she growled at de Bourgh and threw the sword aside. The thing was useless in her hands.

Amber launched herself at him. When she’d almost reached him, she rotated and kicked him in the chest. The kick was powerful enough that he fell on his back.

The heavy armor made standing up a struggle, and she stood over him, her foot on his neck.

“I can crush your throat with one good stomp,” she said. “Your airway will swell, and you won’t be able to breathe. It’s a bad death.”

“You won’t do it,” he mused, seemingly unaffected by her threats. “You’re way too noble to kill a man without giving him a chance to fight back.”

“She is,” Owen said as he came to stand on the other side of de Bourgh. “But I’m nae.” He put the tip of his claymore next to Amber’s foot on the man’s neck.

He briefly met Amber’s eyes, and for the first time, she was a little afraid of him. It was a lethal stare.

“This is for Amber,” he grumbled and pressed his sword down.

De Bourgh made a gurgling sound, and his eyes bulged with fear as he died.

Amber closed her own eyes briefly, until she felt Owen collapse by de Bourgh’s side.

“Owen!” she cried and rushed to him.

He was ashen. How had she not noticed that at first? He was losing too much blood.

“Ye came…” he whispered. “Why did ye come, lass? Ye should be far away from here.”

“Shut up.” She took a dagger from his belt and cut several long pieces of cloth from her cloak. The material was far from sterile, but it would have to do. “I needed to stop the bleeding or you’ll—”

She didn’t finish. She couldn’t allow herself to even think about it. He hadn’t said he loved her. But she loved him. That’s why she’d come. She loved him, and she couldn’t stand the idea that he could die. She had to protect him.

It looked like she’d come exactly at the right time.

She pressed the cloth firmly against the wound, but it soaked through quickly. To elevate the gash, she bent his knee and propped his leg against the ground. She pushed more of the pieces of her cloak against the cut, but he was still bleeding. Oh no! The only way to stop it was to find the femoral artery pressure point. She tied a long piece of cloth around his thigh to keep pressure on the wound as much as possible, then she pushed her fingers against the artery in his groin and watched the cloth under her fingers like a hawk.

Owen chuckled. “Lass, I want ye, too, but shall we wait until we’re alone?” His voice was weak and slow, as though he were drunk. She would’ve appreciated the joke if she wasn’t rigid and cold from fear for him.

She kept watching the compress. “Don’t you dare die on me, do you hear?”

“Why would I die? I’d hate to go when I’ve only just found the woman I love.”

“What?”

“I’d hate to go—”

“Not that.” Her heart stopped beating and then launched into a gallop. “You love me?”

He smiled weakly and lifted his hand to touch her face. Around them, the chaos continued, but everything slowed down and blurred, as though an invisible, protective dome had landed over them.