Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

For the first few seconds, as the tree stopped falling and the snow settled, Aedan couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All he could see, all he could comprehend, was the sight of Thora disappearing under the branches of the pine tree as she dove forward.

Time froze, then restarted in a rush of sound and chaos as the clearing erupted into shouts. “Is anyone… Kendrick… Conall… are ye hurt?”

“Nae more than me pride and a bruise tae the ribs.” Conall limped into view. “The lass pushed me out o’ the tree’s path.”

“Pushed us both.” Kendrick reappeared as well, his face pale. “Gods above, if she’d nae moved so fast… ‘twould have landed on both our heads.”

The trunk was almost a foot across, and big enough that you could cut it in half and use it as a makeshift table. It would have crushed anyone caught directly underneath it.

It would crush… anyone caught… she saved them…but Thora… Thora… “THORA!”

He wasn’t aware that he’d screamed until he heard the sound echo off the trees. He didn’t care as he scrambled across toward where he’d last seen her. “Thora… she is under the tree… help me!”

Men scrambled to obey, lairds and men-at-arms alike. Those with axes hewed at branches. Those without, moved them aside or used swords to cut. For a moment, he feared the worst. Then Mac shouted out. “Here, me laird. I’ve found her.”

Aedan dashed around the fallen behemoth of a tree to where his man at arms stood. Mac caught him as the other men-at-arms moved in. “She wasnae directly under it, me laird. It looks as though the branches caught her, and mayhap the trunk caught her shoulder, but…”

“Is she…”

“Aye, alive from what I could see, me laird.”

“Give me yer axe.” Aedan held out a hand.

Mac wasted no time arguing. He handed Aedan the tool and stepped back, out of his way, urging the other men to do the same.

As the men moved, he could see her cloak, and the long, dark silken hair. He could also see the bloom of red across the snow and her clothing alike. For a moment, he faltered. Then he saw the slight rise and fall of her body, and knew Mac was right. She was alive. Which meant he had to free her from the tree’s branches and back to Ross Castle as soon as possible.

One branch fell to his axe, then another, then another. Then there was an opening big enough for him to crawl through. He passed the axe back to Mac and shoved his way to her side.

She was bleeding badly and pale from loss of blood, but he couldn’t see how serious the wound was beyond that. There was part of a branch lodged in her shoulder, and what looked like a gash on her arm, but there was too much blood, clothing and debris to see more.

He lifted his head to see the rest of the men standing clustered around. “Help me free her. We need tae… I need tae get her back to the healer. She’s bleedin’ sore badly.”

“Get her out. Now! Lift the tree off her by brute strength if need be.” Lachlan Ross snapped out the order, and everyone else jumped to obey. For once, Aedan was glad of the other man’s commanding presence. “Hurry up! If ye cannae lift it, then cut the section free and drag it away! And dinnae drop it!”

“Aye!” There was a subdued roar of agreement, and then the men were moving, gripping the tree, cutting at the branches, and working to find purchase. Within minutes, the branches were carved away, and the great, heavy trunk was being lifted clear.

Aedan skidded forward on his knees and gently turned Thora over into his arms. She moaned but didn’t open her eyes, and he wasn’t surprised. Not when turning her over and brushing back her midnight hair revealed a livid bruise at her temple. A blow to the head, on top of blood loss - such wounds would fell even the most battle-hardened warrior. Much less a slight woman such as Thora.

She was badly hurt and she’d been right. Without her there, two men would have died. And who knew how many more of them would have been badly injured. Her awareness and quick action had saved lives.

Nay. Her foresight saved lives. She told me there was peril, and I thought she was bein’ foolish, succumbin’ tae womanly folly and jumpin’ at shadows, all because she couldnae tell me what the threat was. But who would have kent, unless they kent exactly where Laird Ross would bring us tae get the Yule Log?

And it was possible that even Lachlan himself hadn’t known where he would stop. Aedan knew there were plenty of Yule outings that he’d led where they simply picked a direction, walked until they were tired of walking, then picked a random tree and declared it the Yule Log.

All this time, he’d been thinking of how long they would walk until she admitted there was nothing to fear. He’d been thinking of how he would have responded when she’d realized she’d been wrong, and he’d been certain she would. Instead, she’d once again been proven right.

He felt like the world’s most ungrateful and graceless bastard. Like an utter fool, playing at being a laird.

“Come, Laird Cameron. Me men will carry her…”

“Nay. I’ll carry her.” Aedan shook his head and rearranged his grip, then carefully lifted Thora into his arms. She was frighteningly still, her body limp and her head lolling against his shoulder. Had it not been for the faint warmth of her breath, ghosting against the chilled skin of his neck, he might have thought she’d perished while they were trying to free her.

Lachlan Ross hesitated, but in the end he nodded his head and stepped back. “As ye will. ‘Tis yer right.”

It took Mac’s help to stand in the slushy snow with Thora in his arms, and Mac, Lachlan and Conall together to help him work his way free of the remaining tree branches. Aedan accepted that help because he couldn’t have managed without it. Once he was free, he began to walk, following the trail of footsteps from their trek into the woods.

“Mark the spot and have the woodsmen bring back the log. Ye twain, clear a path for Laird Cameron. Ye keep close in front tae make sure he doesnae slip nor fall. I willnae have the lady further injured in my care. The rest o’ ye, form honor guard. That much is deserved. And Arthur, see that flask is emptied intae the snow. Nae a man drinks a drop until Lady Cameron has been seen by the healer, or I’ll see ye spend the night in a cell, or in the stables!”

Lachlan snapped out orders as he and Mac took up stations on either side of Aedan, careful to stand close enough to aid, but distant enough to avoid jostling the limp body in his arms. The rest of the men did as they were ordered, clearing the path of any obstacle and forming a ring of protection around the four of them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aedan saw the golden hue of aged whiskey splash across the snow. He might have asked for some for Thora, but he didn’t dare risk interfering with whatever treatment the healer might recommend. Nor did he want to take the slightest risk of her choking. Even if it didn’t endanger her life, coughing would hurt. He didn’t want her to feel pain.

The group began the trek back to Ross Castle, moving as fast as Aedan’s feet would allow. He yearned to run, but knew if he tried, he would only risk falling. He wished they had a horse, but they’d decided to trust to their own limbs and strength that day.

He heard Lachlan Ross barking periodic orders and was grateful that someone else was in control of everything. He was free to focus on Thora, on watching to make sure she breathed, and waiting for any signs of waking. Her continued unconsciousness was worrisome. Had the blow to her head caused her serious injury?

Had his blind foolishness done her harm, perhaps permanent harm? He didn’t know, and until he knew, he was determined that no other would hold her or touch her, unless it was the healer.

A minute, a candle-mark, or an eternity - Aedan had no idea how long the journey back to Ross Castle lasted. He had no will to mark the passing of time, no care for anything save Thora, and the bitter recriminations that circled through his thoughts.

This… this is me fault. Mine. I didnae believe her. She had tae come because she kent that I wouldnae heed her warning. She kent I didnae believe her, so she put herself in danger.

If Thora dies, ‘twill be me doing and me arrogance that take her life. Mine and mine alone.

Whatever powers in heaven there be, or elsewhere… please, dinnae let her die. Let her liv, so I may apologize tae her. Let her live, so I may prove I believe in her gift, as well as her wits and her courage.

Let her live.