Rogue's Challenge (18 page)
He yanked on her arm, but seeing as he wasn't much larger than she, her feet remained firmly planted. “How did you get here? When did you get here?"
"Same as you."
"You followed me?"
"I said I did, didn't I? Now, come on."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why? Because I'm the one with the gun."
She eyed his weapon, the barrel still pressed to her side, then eyed the man. “I don't think you'll shoot me. What purpose would it serve? Especially since you seem so intent on taking me somewhere."
His jaw clenched beneath a patchy beard. “Fine. I won't shoot you, but I'll shoot him,” he said, nodding in Ian's direction, his back to them.
All the blood rushed to her feet and she forced herself not to sway. “No, you wouldn't."
Ian turned, obviously looking for her. The moment his gaze found her, his hand fell to the hilt of his sword and his body stiffened.
Jenny prayed. “I'll go with you,” she said, and practically dragged Vernon away.
"I thought as much,” the little man said with a sneer.
But Jenny could hear Ian's feet pounding against the earth, rapidly catching up with them. She had to do something! Oh, if only she had her purse and all those rolls of pennies!
Vernon cast a harried glance over his shoulder and pulled the gun from her ribs and aimed it at Ian.
"No!” She twisted and grabbed his arm, bringing the gun down just as it went off.
The impact, sharp and hot, brought Jenny to the ground. Vernon cursed and kicked dirt into her face as he ran away. She recognized it as the same voice she'd heard in the woods a week before, but her thoughts were more in tune with the searing heat scorching the side of her leg and the fierce howl of another man.
Ian.
The blast, a nearly deafening sound, sent a wave of such dread through Ian's body he stumbled as he ran toward Jenny now lying on the ground. He caught sight of the man as he disappeared into the milling crowd, but as much as he wanted to chase after the whoreson who had done this, there was no one he could trust to care for Jenny. All he knew was a staggering pain in his chest at the sight of blood on her dress. He fell to his knees beside her.
Cupping Jenny's sweet face, his voice tight with fear, he called her name. “Jenny! Can you hear me, love?"
Her brow furrowed, she lifted her lids. Pain reflected in the deep brown depths. “I'm alright. I think."
He looked down along her body at the blood seeping through her dress at her thigh.
Her voice was shaky and weak, she said, “I'll—” she swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I'll need some privacy to examine the wound. I think the bullet went all the way through, but I can't be sure."
"Aye.” With trembling arms, he lifted her and turned toward the nearest house. A woman standing in the doorway waved him in, her brow creased with concern.
Amelia had described the advances made to firearms in her time, but he'd never dreamt he would be witness to the horrific effects. And not on a woman. His woman.
He gently placed her in a chair by the fire. “Do you have a bit of cloth for binding?” he asked the old lady.
"No,” Jenny said, her voice firmer than before. “Thank you, but I'll use part of my shift."
Ian nodded, agreeing that her shift would likely be cleaner than what the woman could provide. He pulled his dagger from his belt and started to lift her dress then paused, casting a glare over his shoulder at the people gathered in the doorway.
"Be gone with ye,” the old woman snapped and shut the door in their faces.
Satisfied they had at least some bit of privacy, he lifted Jenny's dress and looked to her wound. Her lily-white legs, soft and supple and perfect would now hold a scar. The whoreson would pay most dearly for this.
"It doesn't look too bad,” Jenny said, her breathing short and quick. “Is there an exit wound?"
He peered beneath her thigh then let out a sigh of relief. “Aye. Now sit back before you faint. I shall bind this for now, then we shall return to Arreyder where Amelia can tend you."
She did as he asked and sat back, but argued with him. What more could he expect? “I'm not going to faint, and Tuck shouldn't be the one to take care of this. Too stressful in her condition. I can manage—"
"Be still, woman,” he growled. Her prattle was a good sign, but he was not up to a lengthy discussion. His hands shook as he cut away part of her shift and bound her leg.
"Here lass,” the old woman said, shoving a cup under Jenny's nose. “'Tis but a wee dram of whiskey."
"No, thank you. I'm fine."
Ian snapped his head up. “Drink it. Now."
She scowled at him, but did as he commanded with a short cough and gasp. He finished his task and lowered her skirts.
"Yer horses are just outside,” the old woman said. “I had a lad fetch them fer ye."
"Thank you, mistress. We are in your debt,” he said, and placed some coins in her dirt smudged hand.
"'Twas nothin',” she muttered, and opened the door.
Ian scooped Jenny into his arms as carefully as he could so as not to harm her, but her hiss of pain was evident. “I'm sorry, little one."
"Not your fault,” she growled, and let out a long breath as they neared their mounts. “It's Vernon's, that snake."
He paused by her horse, his mind spinning. “You know the man who did this?"
"Afraid so. He was the man that first day in the woods. And Ian. He's not from around here, if you catch my drift."
He carefully placed her on his horse, the weight of her words heavy on his mind. He had known the weapon was not of his time, the gun was nothing he had ever seen before, but the man wielding it?
"We shall discuss this along the way,” he said, and sat behind her and slipped his arm around her waist.
Leading Jenny's horse behind them, Ian made his way out of the small village toward Arreyder, his eyes scanning for any sign of the man called Vernon.
"Tell me what you know of him,” he demanded.
With a sigh, she leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. “His name is Vernon Cox. He's a scientist. My father and he made some deal and I was set to work on Vernon's latest discovery, EQ13. It was a success, of a sort."
"What is this EQ13?"
"It's a drug that reduces dietary fat absorption. Plainly put, it's a diet pill. It doesn't work much better than any others already on the market, but it does work."
"If this EQ13 is a success, then why would he wish to harm you?"
"I don't know. I'll ask him next time I see him,” she said wearily.
"Not if I have aught to say about it,” he growled.
"It's only logical. He wants me for something. Why else try and kidnap me?"
"Aye, why indeed?” He kissed her forehead. “Rest now,” he said, but she was already asleep. The shock, the loss of blood, and the whiskey had taken their toll.
An hour later he eased up the edge of Jenny's dress and looked at the bandages. The bleeding appeared to have slowed, but he knew that infection could set in. She was not out of danger yet. He prayed Amelia had medicines from the future to tend her properly.
She moaned in her sleep. He knew from experience that a steady ache was setting in. ‘Twas not much different than a sword wound, he'd wager. His jaw clenched at the memory of Amelia pouring whiskey into the gash in his shoulder a year ago.
"No,” he whispered harshly. He could not allow her to do so to Jenny's leg. There had to be a better way, a way without pain, for he would feel it as keenly as she.
Evening fell as he entered the bailey at Arreyder Castle. “Fetch Colin! Quickly!"
William, one of the Laird's old trusted guards frowned deeply as he waved one of the young lads to do his bidding. “What has happened, lad?” The older man's eyes widened at the sight of blood on Jenny's dress.
"She was wounded by the son of the devil,” Ian snarled.
William carefully took her as Ian lowered her into his hands so he could dismount without jarring her overmuch.
Jenny groaned pitifully and lifted her head. “Ian?"
"Here, little one,” he said, and took her from William's arms.
William followed him into the main hall. “Did ye kill him?"
"Nay. I dare not chase after him without anyone to guard her."
"I see. After ye get the lass tended tae, meet me in the solar. The Laird will wish tae hear of this."
He'd almost made it to Jenny's chamber when Elspeth and a waddling Tuck, moving with greater speed than he'd have thought her possible, came from the other end of the hall, Colin just behind.
"What's happened?” Amelia demanded.
"She was shot,” he said, and shouldered his way into her room, the door screeching on its hinges.
Amelia cursed foully and he quite agreed.
"Colin, fetch my bag. You know the one,” Amelia said, and followed him into the room.
Ian laid Jenny on the bed. “Easy, love,” he said, as she hissed with renewed pain.
He started to lift her skirts when Elspeth burst into the room. “Out with you, lad. We'll take care of the lass."
"Like bloody hell I will,” he growled, and continued with his chore. The bleeding had started again with the handling of her from man to man.
Amelia placed her hand on Ian's as he struggled to undo the bandage with his trembling fingers. “I know what to do, Ian."
"Nay,” he choked out. “I shall not let you cleanse the wound as you did mine.” His vision blurred, tears, he guessed, brought on by fatigue.
But the truth came clear as he blinked them away. ‘Twas the gut wrenching fear of losing Jenny that caused them.
A hand, tiny and pale, touched his arm. Ian lifted his head and found Jenny's deep brown eyes looking up at him.
God help him. He loved her.
Her brow furrowed as she studied him. Did she see his true feelings? Were they written across his face, in his eyes? Did she know his heart was breaking because he could never claim her as his own?
Something powerful hung in the air, Jenny sensed it, could almost see it. She knew Ian was upset because he'd failed to protect her, but it wasn't his fault. How could he, how could any of them have known this would happen?
Guilt and pain flashed across his face. She couldn't bare it. She had to ease his mind somehow. “Ian, you've done enough. Now let Tuck and me take it from here."
"Here, love,” Colin panted, as he placed the bag on the bed.
"Thanks,” Tuck murmured as she ripped open the med kit. “Ian, I really need you to move."
He took Jenny's hand from his arm and brought it to his lips, his lids clamped closed.
"Colin?” Tuck motioned with her head toward Ian.
"Come, my friend,” he said, placing his hand on Ian's shoulder. “The women ken what they're about."
Ian opened his eyes and moved to the head of the bed, Jenny's hand still firmly in his. “Nay, I will stay."
Jenny swallowed the lump in her throat. It was more than guilt. He cared. The rake, the rogue, truly cared about her.
"Fine,” Tuck sighed, swiping her brow with the back of her hand.
Jenny jerked her gaze from Ian's, instantly realizing this was far too much stress for her pregnant friend. The last thing she or any of them needed right now was for Tuck to go into labor. “Get her a chair, quickly!"
One appeared and Tuck didn't utter a word as Colin forced her to sit.
"Good, now Elspeth, in that bag there's a bottle of saline solution,” Jenny said. “Open a packet of gauze and douse it then use that to clean the area around the wound after Tuck gets the bandages off."
"I know what I'm doing here, Jen,” Tuck grumbled, peeling away the bandage. “So does Elspeth. I've taught her what I could since I wasn't sure you'd be here for the delivery.” She lifted her head from her task and grinned. “So shut up and let me work, Doc."
Jenny chuckled roughly. “Sorry. Doctors do make the worst patients."
Tuck looked back to her task. “Not bad. What did he use?"
"You expect me to know?” Jenny hissed as the last of the bandage was removed. “Small gun, short barrel."
"Looks like a .32 or maybe a .38. Hole's too small to be anything bigger. Clean too,” Tuck continued as she worked. “Right through the fleshy part of the thigh. You were lucky."
"That's a matter of opinion,” she grumbled, examining the hole for herself. She absently noticed Ian's hand still wrapped around hers, but she wasn't letting go. Her stomach was doing funny flips as she examined the injury. That was her leg, her blood. She sucked in a quivering breath and sat back, focusing on the canopy above the bed. Blood loss, whiskey on an empty stomach, fear for Ian's life, it was all catching up with her.
"You want a local or grin and bear it while I clean this?” Tuck asked.
Her gaze lowered to Tuck, her head bent over her task. “I'd rather save the local for something more serious."
That brought Tuck's head up. “I doubt I'll need it, Jen. You know I have an extremely high tolerance for pain."
"I'm the doctor here and I say what I need. And what you may or may not need. Save the anesthetic."
Tuck looked to Ian still standing by the head of the bed, and their clasped hands. “You heard her, so don't get mad at me. But it won't be as bad as whiskey, I promise.” Tuck's gaze shifted to Jenny's. “Keep holding onto him, cause even though it won't be as bad, it's still going to hurt like hell."
Jenny nodded.
The moment Tuck began, Jenny squeezed her eyes closed on a hiss and gripped Ian's hand as hard as she could. Dots formed behind her lids.
Ian knelt beside the bed and turned Jenny's face to his. He hurt like the devil himself had sent a spear straight through his heart. Aye, this Vernon Cox was a walking dead man.
"Tell me of the whoreson who did this,” he said roughly. “What does he look like?” He needed information to find and kill the fiend, but Jenny also needed a diversion.
She opened her eyes and blinked several times. “He—he—"
Ian nodded, urging her to continue, to keep her mind occupied. “He is a small man, but he wore a hood. I did not see his face."
She took a deep breath and nodded. “He's approximately five foot six,” she swallowed hard, “one hundred and forty pounds. Pale skin, brown hair, roughly two inches in length, and—a—patchy—beard.” Her voice faded to a squeak in the end and tears filled her eyes and her brow dotted with perspiration.