Page 85 of The Winter Laird

“That’s your friend’s blood,” Colin replied, “and we’ll get you cleaned up. Don’t worry. We’ve got this. Just relax.”

Bri saw James and Reilly leaning over Aidan. His eyes were closed, and she couldn’t tell if he was breathing. When asked, Colin reassured her that he was alive, just unconscious. She let out a shaky breath, then paused.

She’d time-traveled again.

“Colin?” she asked, twisting in sudden surprise. “You’re a time-traveler?”

“Direct descendant of a well-kept family secret,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

She just stared at him in shock before turning back to the scene in front of her. James was in full doctor-mode, checking all sorts of things on Aidan. Reilly kneeled in the dirt and handed James whatever he requested. And Colin, dressed in full medieval garb minus his Doc Martens, still held on to her.

“Is this really happening?” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “Without Nioclas?”

“Keep it together,” Colin said quietly. “We’ll figure it out, Bri.”

At James’s nod, James and Reilly hefted Aidan and began to haul him toward the SUV parked nearby.

“Come on. We’ve got to move before anyone sees us,” Colin said, helping her stand. She stared at him in shock, then looked over to James, and finally to Reilly, who rolled his eyes at her, then winked.

“You’d think you’d be used to this by now,” Reilly said with a smirk.

His teasing had the desired effect; she let out a quick breath and assessed the situation. “O’Malley,” she called sharply. His head swung around in surprise. “I’ll need answers, but first, we need to get his shoulder fixed. Where are we taking him?”

“We’re going to bring him back to Reilly’s house,” James replied briskly as he and Reilly carefully loaded Aidan into the SUV, “and see what we can do from there. We can’t bring him to a hospital. They’ll throw him in a mental hospital when he eventually wakes up.”

Brianagh stopped paying attention. She’d caught sight of what they’d set up inside the vehicle. The back seats were laid flat, and everything from IV bags to bandages was stocked inside of long white bins they’d attached to the sides.

“It’s a makeshift ambulance,” Colin explained.

“Answers later,” she said firmly, snapping her mouth shut and clambering in once James settled Aidan. Colin hopped into the front seat, and Reilly took off as the sun rose in the distance.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Bri said nervously. “And he’s not waking up, James.”

“Relax, Bri. I’m an ER physician. I know what to do,” he replied calmly as he started an IV in Aidan’s arm and began checking all sorts of things. “He’s not going to wake up for a while yet. I’m giving him some pretty strong pain meds so he won’t wake up in the car and freak out.”

“He’s not going to know what all this is,” she said, unable to keep the worry from her voice. “When he wakes up, he’s going to be so confused and pretty angry. Especially if he sees Reilly.”

“No clan love between the O’Rourkes and the O’Malleys?” Colin asked.

“Actually, he’s a MacWilliam,” Bri replied. She met Reilly’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “His name is Aidan…and he’s my brother-in-law.”

James paused in his ministrations, and Colin simply froze in the front seat. Silence reigned.

Reilly smiled.

* * *

Brianagh stoodin Reilly’s bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked much the same, but so much had changed in the two months she’d been gone.

Colin and James both informed her Matthew flew to Ireland after two weeks. He’d led the search groups and pleaded for her safe return on television, both in Ireland and in the States. He’d kept up the effort until last week, when he produced a document claiming she’d given him all rights to her business prior to her trip.

Somehow, she wasn’t terribly shocked.

Brianagh ran her fingers through her hair, inspecting her reflection. She’d almost forgotten what she looked like. Her eyes were a deeper blue than she remembered, and her hair—still wet from her shower—looked longer, darker, and wavier than before. She glanced at her arm and grimaced. She needed to see James about that sooner rather than later. The cut was deeper than she thought, and very red. Bri had no doubt it was infected. Medieval swords probably had more germs than she cared to admit.

She finished drying off, luxuriating in the softness of the warm towel, and dressed in her jeans and one of Reilly’s T-shirts, feeling out of place and uncomfortable. She found herself wishing for a long, fur-lined dress. Or, better yet, her husband.

Brianagh found James on the couch downstairs, holding a beer against his forehead, his eyes closed.

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