Page 51 of The Highlander's Dangerous Bride

“Aye, we’re ready!” Arne called back, getting everyone into position.

When Billy jumped, there was a communal holding of breath and then he landed with a soft thump safely in the middle of the human cradle, to be greeted with hysterical relief by his mother and the rest of his family.

Satisfied Billy was all right, Arne freed himself and looked back up through the billowing smoke. When the far corner of the roof came crashing down in flames, sending a fountain of sparks high into the air, he screamed out Raven’s name in desperation, fearing the building was about to collapse in on itself, taking her with it.

Then, through the smoke, she appeared at the very edge of the roof where Billy had just jumped from, coughing violently, her hand over her face. Arne held out his arms. “Jump, Raven, for God’s sake jump now!” he shouted with all his might, gripped with fear.

But she did not jump. She just stood looking down at him. Terror ripped through him like a blade.

“Christ! Raven, I’m beggin’ ye, come on and jump intae me arms. Trust me, I’ll catch ye, just trust me!”

“I’m supposed tae trust ye, am I?” she shouted down to him. “But ye’re nae willin’ tae trust me!”

He could not believe what he was hearing. “What are ye playin’ at? Jump now, will ye?!” he yelled frantically, breaking into a fit of coughing as the smoke burned his throat and pervaded his lungs.

“Fair’s fair. I’ll trust ye and jump when ye promise tae truly try tae trust me too,” she yelled down, her voice cracking from inhaling the filthy smoke.

Desperate to get her down safely, Arne could see he had no choice but to give in. “All right, I’ll try. Now, fer God’s sake, come!”

“Swear it!”

He growled under his breath. “I swear!”

“All right, here I come!”

Arne watched, his heart in his mouth, as she fearlessly leaped into the void. There was a moment of exultation in his soul to see how completely she trusted him with her life. His eyes tracked her trajectory as she plummeted towards him from above, her long hair flying, kilted skirts billowing around her.

His body moved without the need for thought, minutely calibrating his movements to make sure he was in exactly the right position to catch her. Suddenly, with a whoosh and a bump, she was in his arms. He had caught her, just as he said he would! Relief exploded in his chest as he hugged her close for a long moment before pulling back slightly to examine her face.

“Raven, are ye all right?” he asked, breaking into a hacking cough as the smoke thickened around them. Raven was black with soot, coughing great wrenching coughs as her lungs sought to expel the lethal particles within them. She did not manage to reply to his question before they were surrounded by a group of soldiers and castle folk, clapping and cheering. There was a chorus of admiration and heartfelt thanks for Raven’s daring rescue of Billy.

“Well done, lass!”

“Ye’re a heroine, lassie!”

“The lass deserves a medal for her bravery!”

As he listened to all this and cradled Raven close in his arms, Arne suddenly felt absurdly proud of her, though he knew he had no right. But like pieces of a puzzle finally slipping into place, it somehow seemed fitting that this small, delicate, black-haired woman, with the fierce, brave soul of a mountain lion, should be Thorsten’s mother.

Without hesitation, she had been prepared to die to save Billy Kimble, a boy she had never met before. It dawned on Arne then that there was literally nothing Raven would not do and nothing she would not sacrifice to protect their son, whatever it cost her. Was that not someone he could trust?

His thoughts were interrupted by a woman’s shriek. A wet, bedraggled figure ran up to Raven where she lay in his arms and hugged her. “Och, Miss, thank ye fer savin’ me wee Billy!” she shouted about the roar of the flames.

Arne recognized Billy’s mother, her smut-covered, tear-streaked visage a directing a beaming smile of gratitude at Raven. A cluster of small children followed her like chicks after a mother hen, hanging on her blackened skirts, peeping up at Arne and Raven shyly, with big eyes. Arne smiled down at them.

Raven hugged the woman back, laughing and coughing at the same time. Beneath the soot, he saw her white smile break out too. “He’s a grand, brave lad,” she told the mother hoarsely, “he was so scared, but he went and jumped anyway. Ye can be right proud of him.”

“Och, thank ye lassie,” his mother shouted above the fire’s roaring, her hand on her heart. “I’m his ma, Alice Kimble. I wish I could repay ye with gold, lass, fer what ye’ve done, but we Kimbles dinnae have a pot tae piss in.” She gave a hacking laugh and spat a mouthful of black goo on the ground before adding, “Beg yer pardon. But if any of us can ever dae ye a good turn, just come and see me. We live in the village. Just ask anyone, and they’ll tell ye where tae find us.”

“I was glad to help, Alice. I’m Raven. Thank ye fer yer kind offer,” Raven told her, wracked by a fresh bout of coughing. Arne watched, deeply moved as the two women clasped hands before the grateful Mrs. Kimble herded her small tribe away to safety.

Suddenly, a huge crack like a cannon shot ripped through the smoke and ash-laden air, eliciting a collective gasp of horror. Everyone turned to look as the burning roof of the barracks suddenly gave a great creaking sigh, the flames finally consuming the last of the thatch and supporting rafters.

“Move back everyone!” Arne shouted, turning and running with Raven still clasped to his chest further away from the conflagration. “Get back, ’tis gonnae come down any second!”

Naturally looking to him for direction, everyone obeyed unquestioningly. His men, who were toiling to prevent the fire from spreading to the neighboring barrack blocks also temporarily abandoned their efforts and ran, pushing the crowd back according to their war chief’s command as the burning building shrieked and groaned behind them.

Then, with a tremendous ear-splitting whoomph, the roof collapsed inwards, sending a choking fountain of smoke, cinders, and live sparks high into the air. It rained down upon those gathered below, scattering them, sending them screaming and shouting in fear as they tried to outrun the filthy, greasy muck falling upon them. Many dashed burning cinders from their hair and clothes in panic as they ran.

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