Callum spurred Kelpie into a gallop and dashed up to where Mhairi teetered on the lip of the cliff. He leaped from the saddle, flinging his empty flintlock to the ground. He lashed his arms around the wild-eyed girl, terrified she'd overbalance and follow Sheena onto the jagged rocks below.
"Callum…" Mhairi said, sounding bewildered as he dragged her back from the dizzying edge. "What in heaven’s name are ye doing here?"
It took him a few seconds to answer. He was still trapped in that appalling moment when the two girls wrestled on the brink of oblivion. He'd watched, sick with panic and helpless to take a shot while Mhairi and Sheena stood so close.
"God’s blood, lass, you've taken twenty years off my life today," he groaned.
He tightened his grip on her as she collapsed limp in his hold, hardly daring to believe that his lady was here with him and not lying crumpled at the bottom of the ravine. For one blessed moment, he felt her lean into him, then she gave a muffled whimper and tried to pull free.
Of course she did. She hated him.
Didn't today's escapade prove it? He’d feared for Mhairi in his vindictive kinswoman’s clutches, especially when he discovered they headed north instead of east. But he hadn’t understood that Sheena might have actual murder in mind until he'd drawn Kelpie to a halt near the waterfall and seen the desperate fight. At that moment, he'd realized if Bonny Mhairi Drummond died, he lost everything that made his life worth living.
Now, definitely alive, praise all the angels, she smiled at him. It was a shaky effort, but he commended her courage in smiling at all.
Her bright spirit had lured him from the first, hadn't it? He'd felt a natural masculine urge to possess the beauty, but her gallant heart had made him love her.
"Where are ye hurt?" His voice was raw with the tattered remnants of his fear.
"My arm."
Gently he led her across to a flat boulder out of range of the waterfall spray. Mercifully it was quieter here, too.
He went on his knees in front of her and drew his dirk to cut away the blood-soaked sleeve. Mhairi endured his ministrations with a stoic bravery that made him admire her all over again.
Guilt seethed in his belly, along with gratitude and the effects of eviscerating fear. That wee bitch Sheena might have wielded the blade today, but the final blame for Mhairi’s stabbing lay with him. He could hardly endure the devastating truth. This valiant girl would never have been in danger if he hadn’t stolen her away from her home.
"Stay there." His voice was still harsher than he intended, as he battled the storm of emotions battering him.
Callum rose and crossed to the burn that flowed into the mighty Mare's Tail waterfall. He kneeled to dip his handkerchief in the water.
"Should ye check to see if Shee
na's alive?" Mhairi called over the water's noise.
When he stood, he stepped toward the edge. Below him, the girl's body lay motionless, her neck at an unnatural angle. The thought that it could as easily be Mhairi instead of Sheena at the base of that cliff made him want to vomit.
He returned to where his beloved waited, for once obedient to his command. "Aye, she's dead."
Crouching at her side, he wiped the blood from her arm. Nausea percolated in his belly as he inspected the long shallow cut. He didn't dare look up for fear of betraying how close he was to losing control. He'd been wounded in battle several times, but seeing someone he loved suffering was worse.
"When I get back to Achnasheen, I'll send a party to collect Sheena’s body."
Mhairi bit her lip and shifted. She was pale and trembling and looked ill. He'd been in enough skirmishes to recognize that only now did the full effects of the attack set in. He'd seen men like berserkers in battle who broke down and cried in the aftermath. Watching this braw lassie try to hold herself together made him ache.
"Is this hurting?" He was being as careful as if he spun cloth from spider's web.
"No," she said in a tight voice.
"Liar." At the first sight of her covered in blood, remorse had made him feel even sicker than he already did. But as he gently cleaned the wound, he was relieved to see it wasn’t serious. Uncomfortable no doubt, but it should heal clean.
"Will I live?" she asked dryly.
"The bleeding has stopped, and it’s no’ too deep."
"Jean will fix it."
He didn't answer. "Can I tear a strip off your petticoat to bind it?"