11. Blades and Bonds

11

BLADES AND BONDS

T aryn was all but convinced that if James didn’t kill her first, her guilt would. It gnawed on her, eating away at her soul. She was sure that she was the worst person to have ever walked the earth.

For the last several years, Taryn thought she was living in a dream. Of course, she was always on the run and never truly felt safe, but that had been infinitely better than being imprisoned with Baron Dudley. To find out now that all this time her best friend, her only friend for so many years, had taken her place threatened to bring Taryn’s breakfast up. She felt so undeniably selfish for never having stopped to think about just how her actions might have impacted her people. She had never considered that the entire McGregor Clan would be made to pay for her sins.

The ropes digging into the raw skin around her nearly numb wrists seemed like the least bit of penance she could pay. Despite her surrender, James had still insisted on tying her to the saddle. He seemed convinced that at any given moment, Taryn was going to make another escape attempt. Taryn hadn’t argued or fought him off. She simply did as he asked and felt absolutely wretched the entire time. He didn’t seem to understand just how guilty she was feeling, and she had no idea how to convince him it wasn’t simply a ruse.

Where her mind had been previously occupied with thinking of ways to escape, now all Taryn could think about was how she was going to get Laura away from the Baron. She needed to set her friend free, even if it would cost her her own life. It was the least she could do after the three years of suffering she had already caused the McGregor Clan.

Yet for all the hours she spent thinking of how to get Laura out, there was very little she could come up with. Without Sorcha and Aila’s help, she was left on her own; she doubted that James would willingly go along with any of her plans. Not to mention the fact that she had never actually seen the Baron’s estate. She had no idea what she would be walking into or where Laura would even be. And then, of course, how could she bring Laura home without fear of retribution from the Baron once again? He had already proven time and time again that he was a spiteful, vengeful man. When he found out that Taryn had been under his nose only to steal Laura away, there was no telling what he might do. It wasn’t something Taryn was willing to risk.

As the hours continued to pass and the silence between her and James stretched on, Taryn came to terms with the fact that the only way to solve this whole mess would be to surrender herself. It was all she could think of doing. She would have to turn herself over to Baron Dudley and hope that he would be merciful enough to let Laura go, to cease his attacks on her homeland. Though, knowing what she knew about him and all he had already done not only to the McGregor Clan but the Kincaid Clan as well, made her doubt that would ever happen.

Despair started to creep into her thoughts. Though she tried to prevent it, eventually her shoulders sagged under the weight of everything. Her back bowed and inevitably brushed against James. Every time they touched, she stiffened once more, and he would suck in a breath. But that was the extent of their interaction for the day. She knew why he hated her so completely. She was starting to hate herself just as much.

“We will stop here for now. The horse needs a break.”

At James’ announcement, Taryn took in the beads of sweat running down the horse’s neck and steam that came from the animal, despite the cold. It had not yet started to snow, but from the gray clouds in the sky, she knew it would start soon. As hard of a journey as this had been for her, she knew it was nothing like what the horse endured. Carrying their combined weight while sifting through the snow was no easy task.

She was grateful, if only for the animal’s sake, that they were stopping for the night. However, when James helped her out of the saddle and sat her beside the beginnings of a fire, Taryn said a mumbled “Thank ye” for the warmth that would soon return to her fingers.

“Here. Eat,” James ordered, shoving food her direction.

He watched her for a moment as she fumbled with the oatcake, her tied hands impeding her ability to eat with ease. The startling red color of her fingertips hadn’t slipped his notice and once again, he felt torn in two.

He knew she was miserable. He knew she had been suffering. And a very large part of him wanted her to suffer, to feel even a sliver of all he had endured because of her. But there was some small voice in the back of his head telling him that this was not right. It wasn’t her fault that the Baron was a wicked man.

James tore his eyes away from Taryn, forcing himself to think of something, anything else. With her tied, he felt somewhat confident that she wouldn’t get away again. She hadn’t tried, true to her word, but he still felt as though he couldn’t trust her. Not really.

He tried to be angry with her for holding a sword to his throat, for getting the better of him. But every time he thought about it for more than a split second, he found that he was proud. She had obviously picked up many skills in the past three years and become quite a resourceful, independent woman. Nothing like the helpless girl who would visit his parent’s shop for an escape at all.

He had to give her credit—if their roles were reversed, he likely would have done the very same thing. And considering the fact that he had knocked her unconscious after sneaking up on her, he guessed that made them even.

Even with all of his swirling thoughts, that did nothing to ease the tension between them. He couldn’t decide whether or not to hate her, and that made his frustration only continue to build. She confused him entirely, leaving him off kilter. It wasn’t a place he liked to be. And there was nothing he could do about it.

That was the hardest part of it all. It didn’t matter how much his heart tugged on him to care about Taryn and what she needed or wanted. Not while his sister was still imprisoned with that monster. He had already tried everything he could think of to get Laura out without getting Taryn involved, and there simply was no other option. So here he was, stuck and irritated and cold.

In a huff, James threw a log on the fire he had started and kicked it around with his boot. Taryn opened her mouth to say something, but rather than give her the chance to start a conversation, James went back to check on his horse. It had been a long day, and he was ready to settle in for the night and get at least a few hours without running the risk of having to talk to Taryn.

“James,” she whispered.

He rolled his eyes and let the flap of his saddlebags slap closed before he trudged back over to her.

“What, Taryn? Can ye nae see that I?—”

“The bushes,” she said, her lips frozen in a pasted on smile.

Her eyes darted over his shoulder as if she were pointing to something with her gaze.

“Someone is watching us. A few someones, I think.”

Rather than brush her off the way he wanted to, James grew still and listened. A rustling in the brush behind him confirmed what Taryn suspected and had warned him about. Casually, James let his hand slide to the hilt of his dagger as he took in a steadying breath.

“Untie me,” Taryn urged. “Cut me loose and give me a sword. Then, when they are gone, ye can tie me again.”

Before James had the chance to tell her how incredibly foolish he would have to be to follow her instructions, four figures emerged from the woods.

“Well, lads, what do we have here?”

“Looks to me like we found ourselves a bonny wee bounty.”

“Thanks for doin’ all the work for us, but we can take it from here.”

James turned, keeping Taryn at his back while he watched the men create a small circle around them. The closer they got to the fire, the more he could make out their features. Each of them were scarred and bruised. It was clear they all lived a life that dolled out violence with ease. These were hardened criminals he was dealing with, not your average raiders out in the woods.

“Sorry to disappoint ye,” James replied as casually as he could manage. “But the lass is nae leaving my side.”

“Och, do ye hear that lads?” the apparent ring leader called out. “He thinks he has a choice in the matter.”

“She is mine,” James spat through clenched teeth. “Ye are nae going to lay a single hand on her.”

“We will just have to see about that, aye?”

That was the only warning James got before the four of them launched themselves into attacking him. They came at him two at a time, swords swinging hard and fast. James relied on every minute he ever spent training to fend them off. As soon as he managed to outmaneuver one, the next man would fill his spot.

“Ye ken yer way ‘round a sword. I’ll give ye that. But how long do ye truly think ye can hold us all off?”

James didn’t answer the question, trying to keep his mind focused on the fight. The last thing he needed was to have to track down Taryn all over again. He simply didn’t have time for this. Gritting his teeth, he pushed back harder, slashing his sword through the air. As he raised his right hand to do so, a burning pain erupted from the ribs right beneath his arm.

“Argh!”

The scream was involuntary, as was his left hand wrapping around his middle to probe the wound only to come away wet and warm.

“James,” Taryn called behind him, sounding more than a little worried. “Let me help ye! I can fight them off with ye.”

“Hear that? The lass thinks she can defend ye better than ye can.”

Grunting, James let his ire rise if only to fuel his attack. Over and over, he swung, ignoring the fire building in his side. With a decisive upper swing, he managed to disarm and knock out one of the men, but it didn’t provide the relief he was hoping for. The other three were just as ruthless, and he was running out of steam.

“Over here, laddie,” one taunted.

“Nay, nay, watch me,” another tried to distract.

“Aye, ye two keep him busy while I get the bonny lass.”

It was the threat of the last man’s words that sent a chill down James’ spine. He twisted his head to check on Taryn, whose eyes were wide with panic.

“Cut the rope, James!” she shouted. “Nay! Behind ye! He is right behind ye!”

Her warning gave James the second he needed to duck his head and spin back around, driving his sword into the gut of one of the men. A quick glance up, and he saw the sharpened point of the dead man’s sword still hanging where James’ head had been a heartbeat earlier.

With his other hand, he ripped the sword out of his opponent’s quickly fading fingers and flung it towards Taryn. It landed in the snow with a thud. He only hoped it was close enough to her that she would be able to free herself once more. He couldn’t afford to look back again, not with the remaining two men staring at him with fury in their eyes.

“Ye will pay for that,” the man closest to him sneered.

Gathering what little strength he had left, James pulled his sword free from the dead man’s gut and pointed it forward. His head was spinning, and his side was aching, but he tried not to notice any of it.

Again, the attackers came rushing at him. But this time, James struggled to keep his sword raised. His whole arm shook with the effort it took to wield the sword. As soon as the man was close enough, he stretched out his sword and cut James across the face. It wasn’t a deep wound to his flesh, but one that pierced his pride. Bearing down, James gripped the hilt of his sword until his knuckles were white and renewed the fight.

He had only managed to get a few swings in before someone came to stand beside him. It took him a split second to put together that Taryn had indeed managed to cut through her bonds once again and was fighting with him.

He was surprised that she hadn’t stolen his horse to ride off as quickly as she could. With the fight he had on his hands, it would have been the perfect chance for her to get away. He would have been too distracted to stop her, and he doubted the other two men would have noticed. They had lost interest in Taryn the moment he killed one of their friends.

“Och, so the lass does fight. Let’s see if she can hold her own.”

Taryn spun on her heel and put herself at James’ back. Her warmth washed over him, giving him strength. He found it incredibly encouraging to know that he had someone fighting with him, fighting for him in a way.

With them fighting as a team, it didn’t take very long for the last two bounty hunters to run. Though he couldn’t see it, from the way Taryn’s breath came in huffs from behind him, James knew that she was doing her best to win the fight. James’ own breath came in ragged, heaving gasps. His side still burned, but he knew he could finish things.

With an expert twist of his arm and a few tricky steps, he managed to disarm his opponent and give him a smirk. The man went pale, knowing that he was staring down death in the face.

“All right, all right,” the man began to plead, his hands already in the air. “Ye have bested me.”

Keeping his sword trained on the man in front of him, James shot a quick glance behind him, only to find that Taryn had pinned her opponent to the ground with his own sword and was using hers to threaten him.

“Please, just let us go. Dinnae kill us. Please.”

James thought about it for a moment, staring the man down until the brown circle around his eye disappeared from fear. He had no interest in killing anyone else, but he also couldn’t let them go, only for them to come back with more fighters. The last thing they needed was another ambush.

“Ye must swear on yer grave that if I let ye go, ye will nae attack us or anyone else again,” James offered coldly.

“Aye, aye. I will do anything ye ask.”

“But, James—” Taryn started to argue, nudging him in the shoulder.

“Go. And take yer man with ye. But ken this, if I see ye again, I will nae hesitate to kill ye. Dinnae make me regret this mercy.”

Not wanting to give James enough time to change his mind, the man rose and scampered for the man Taryn still had pinned. Together, they hobbled off the way they came, not bothering to look back.

As soon as they were out of sight, James fell to the ground, landing on his knees. Taryn started speaking rapidly, already arguing with him.

“Why did ye let them go? They could hide and wait for dark and attack us while we sleep. They could be heading for more of their friends to make sure we dinnae best them a second time! I ken my way around a sword, but I am nae good enough to fight off half a dozen men.”

It took her a moment to realize that James was injured, but that was all she could think about. He hardly paid attention to anything she was saying, the burning in his side too great to do so. Bearing down on his teeth, James dropped his sword and let his hands go to his side.

“Och, of course ye got yerself hurt,” Taryn quipped.

He looked up at her through his eyelashes.

“How is this my fault? I am nae the one who put a sword through my side.”

Taryn put her hands on her hip and shook her head.

“This would nae have happened if ye had let me free when I first told ye they were hiding in the trees. If ye had listened to me in the first place, we would nae be in this position.”

“If ye had never run away from yer duty, we would nae be here at all.”

She huffed and stomped over to his horse. For a moment, James’ heart thudded, thinking that she was going to steal his horse for a second time and leave him stranded in the forest, wounded. But when her hands reached for his saddlebags and not the reins, he let out a terse breath of relief.

“What are ye doing?” he demanded to know as she rummaged through his things.

“Looking for some thread. Now lay down.”

Refusing to allow her to order him about, James opted instead to settle back against one of the logs by the fire. His hands were cold and wet from the cut in his side, and the flames felt nice. He leaned his head back to rest. He wasn’t sure how long he laid in that position, but when he managed to open his eyes again, Taryn was standing in front of him holding some leaves, a needle, thread, and his flask of whiskey.

“Let me see it.”

He contemplated his options. He could either let Taryn stitch him up so they could continue on their way, or he could refuse and bleed out long before they reached the next village. Sighing, he peeled his hands away from his side.

“Ye will have to take yer shirt off so I can see all of it. Or would ye rather I cut a hole in yer shirt?”

Resenting her arrogant tone, James began to shed his layers. First, he unwrapped the tartan length from around his shoulders and then unbuttoned his navy coat. The brass no longer shone the way it once had. His fingers then pulled at the hem of his shirt and he yanked the stained fabric over his head. The cold air danced across his skin, cooling him off in an instant.

Taryn sat beside him and got to work. She said nothing as she used fresh snow to wipe away the blood, though he saw the corners of her mouth turn upwards when he sucked in a breath of surprise. She offered him the flask, and he took a hearty swig before she yanked it back. That was the only warning he got before the burning in his side grew to a raging fire.

He cursed, but Taryn didn’t seem the least bit fazed. She simply worked on stitching the jagged edges of his skin together while he nursed another mouthful or two of whiskey. When she finished, he reached for his shirt, but she put a hand on his to stop him.

“Nae so fast,” she warned as she shoved a handful of leaves into her mouth.

He watched her through narrowed eyes that quickly doubled in size when she spat out the leaves into her hands and reached once again for his side.

“What do ye think ye are doing?” he demanded, scrambling to his feet to put some distance between them.

“Putting some waybroad on ye so ye dinnae catch a fever. Now come here.”

“Why would I let ye put spat-out weeds on my side?”

She sighed impatiently and stood, cocking a hip as she studied him.

“Ye ken, ye have never been verra good about guarding yerself. Ye swing yer sword too wide and give yer opponent too much room to?—”

“I cannae believe that ye are trying to correct my form right now. Ye, of all people.”

She shrugged.

“I am just saying that I am surprised ye have nae been cut like this before.”

He could feel as her eyes roamed his bare chest for any scars that would prove her right. James kept his left arm down, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing that he had received this exact wound before, only on his other side.

“Since when did ye become an expert on sword skill?”

“Since I had to.”

“Those are some mighty words coming from the lass, who still cannae keep her stance wide enough to nae be thrown off balance. Dinnae think for a moment that I did nae notice when he managed to knock ye off yer center.”

“I did nae fall.”

For a moment, he would have sworn she was going to cross her arms and stamp her foot like a petulant child. He found himself smiling at the mental picture it created. In his momentary distraction, Taryn had rushed forward and slathered her hands down the fresh stitches, coating them in a pale, slimy green mixture.

“There,” she announced triumphantly. “Ye are welcome.”

Without thinking, and before she could step away again, James’ hand shot up to her cheek. He hadn’t noticed the line of blood there before, but with the burning in his side nearly gone, he took a second to study the rest of her, wanting to be sure she wasn’t injured.

“It is nae mine,” she answered before he had even asked the question.

“What about yer arm?” he asked, pointing to the slit in her sleeve.

She shrugged and tried to step away again, but James was too quick for her.

“Sit. My turn to play nursemaid.”

She did as he asked, sitting on a log by the fire with a huff. He straddled the same log so he could reach her arm easily. Returning the favor, he cleaned the wound and then determined she wouldn’t need any stitches. Taking the bottom hem of his shirt, he ripped off a long strip and wrapped it around her arm. It was impossible not to notice how small her bones felt in his hands, though the muscles that guarded them were quite firm. He tied off the makeshift bandage and let out a sigh.

“Does this mean ye can trust me nae to run?” she asked, turning to look at him. “I could have, ye ken. I could have left ye to fight those bounty hunters on yer own, but I did nae. Surely, that earns me some trust? Even just enough to nae have my hands bound?”

Their eyes met with an electric pulse humming between them. He said nothing for a long moment as he took note of the gold flecks in her bright blue eyes. Despite everything, she was still so open, so full of hope.

Though they had been riding in the same saddle for days with barely an inch between them, there was something entirely different about sitting on the same log, the snow melting on his skin as soon as it landed. Her expression pierced his core and James couldn’t stand it. Needing a distraction, he reached for his shirt once more and tugged it over his head as he stood. Taryn followed him, clearly not understanding his need for space.

“Come on, James. Have I nae proven myself? I told ye I would nae run again, and I did nae. I dinnae want to be caught in a situation like this again. All I am asking for is a way to defend myself should I need it. A wee bit of freedom and a blade. Surely ye can trust me with that?”

He turned, no longer caring about how close they were standing. Using it to his advantage, James took half a step forward, forcing Taryn to tilt her head back so she could meet his eyes. Their breath mingled as he spoke.

“Taryn, there is nothing ye could ever do to make me trust ye again. It will take another knife at my throat before I hand ye a sword again.”