Page 65 of The Runaway Bride and the Highlander
His last thought, as he fell fully to the ground, was of Skylar. The only solace that came to him was the sound of thundering hooves in the distance, for he knew with certainty that they were his own men. Through blurry eyes, he had watched Johnson ride away, the remainder of his men following him.
At least Skylar was safe now.
Slipping in and out of consciousness, flashes of moments came to him, but they were only flashes. The pain was the first thing he felt when he was aware of what was going on. And lying there, looking up into the sky at the first morning light, he wondered what it was like up there. He could only hope the afterlife was easier than this one. Feeling himself fade, he wondered if he would go straight away.
But he didn’t.
He slipped back into blackness, swirling about in an endless void, only to wake up again to see his men on their knees around him, calling his name. He couldn’t answer. In fact, he couldn’t do anything. Even breathing had suddenly become a great struggle, opening his mouth and trying to take in great gasps of air. There seemed to be a hurried panic in his men, who were desperate to get him back to the castle. While the soldiers argued, Bram had pulled Maxwell up by the arms and had thrown him over his shoulder before laying him face-first over the horse.
There had been more yelling, but Maxwell could not hear, for there were too many voices at once. He had only heard Bram’s reply.
“I dinnae care if what I’m doing isnae the right way,” he had barked. “But if I wait any longer for ye hens tae finish clucking, my brother will be dead. See tae Lady Macleod.”
Bram had mounted the horse and grabbed Maxwell, pulling him to sit up in front of him and resting him against his strong body while crossing his arm over his torso, holding onto him tightly from behind. After that, Maxwell did not remember much. He was jolted about as Bram rode back to the castle, but for the most part, he had slipped in and out of consciousness.
There appeared a great fuss when they arrived back at the castle, with lots of screaming and yelling. He caught snatches of horrified faces, the walls of the corridor flew by, and then Maxwell slipped away into the black void once more.
He woke up again in his bed with Kendrick bending over him, working on the wound. At first, he was in his body, and then strangely, he floated out of it. He swirled around the room and came to watch what Kendrick was going from above him. Maxwell could see the great gash in his chest, the whiteness of his face, the limp limbs and the bloodstained cloths that lay about him. He felt the tugging of the skin but hardly any pain. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps this was his soul finally leaving, and he would soon find himself in another place. But then, in an instant, he was gone, unable to see himself from above any longer, and once more, he found himself in the blackness.
After that, he did not open his eyes again. There were only sounds, but they appeared so very far away. He heard Bram’s voice once and then Kendrick’s.
“Ye’ll be all right, Maxwell.”
But then, there was just blackness.
The darkness tried to pull him in. Though he could not hear any voices, he experienced more of a feeling. The darkness was beckoning to him, telling Maxwell that it was all right to just let go. If he moved toward it and allowed it to swallow him up, all his excruciating pain would be over, and he would, at last, find some peace.
It was more than tempting, for he was so very tired. He was tired of battle and tired of heartache and loss. Perhaps moving into the darkness was the best thing for him to do, for then he would finally be free. He had never been free before. Feeling nothing at all would certainly be bliss after all he had suffered.
And yet, something seemed to hold him back. A force he could not see or feel or touch, a force he could not understand or explain, stopped him from venturing forth. There was a niggling feeling deep in his gut that he should not go.
It did not tell him that the darkness was good or bad. It did not tell him why he should not go into it. He could hardly explain it, but as he floated around in some kind of void, he did not move toward the darkness, to the freedom he so richly desired. Something, some force or feeling, was telling him that there was a reason he needed to stay. Why did he have to stay? What was the reason? He struggled to find the answer, but it would not come to him. He just knew he had to stay.
When Maxwell eventually woke, he knew he was out of the worst of it. He was yet to open his eyes, but there were no more strange dark places beckoning him. No forces needed to hold him back from leaving, and there was no more floating out of his body. Perhaps the first sign that he was now back on the earthly realm was the excruciating pain in his chest. Even breathing in and out caused him pain. Yes, he was definitely back, for there was nothing as visceral as human suffering.
He felt weak and exhausted, and breathing was not only painful but difficult. Yet, the more aware he became of his surroundings, the more sensations he experienced. The one that caught his attention at that particular moment was the feeling of a small weight sitting in the palm of his hand. Closing his fingers around it, he used the perception of his touch, and then slowly, he smiled.
It was another person’s hand in his, and even before he could see who it might be, he knew the shape of that tiny hand very well, for he had held it many times. Forcing his weary eyes open, he tried to look for where Skylar was. For a moment, he could only see shadows and shapes, the blurriness of sleep masking any definitive features of her face. But after blinking several times, clarity eventually came.
It was not a sight he had expected to see, and he frowned heavily, for it did not please him at all. She was fast asleep on the bed, her head turned to the side, resting on one arm, while the other still stretched out to hold his hand. Her right eye was badly bruised, and sharp colors of black and blue spread against her heavily swollen skin.
He remembered in that moment the scene he and Bram had come across as they had thundered over the brow. Johnson’s men standing over her, while she lay limp on the ground at their feet. His poor, sweet Skylar had run away to save him, but clearly, nothing had worked out as she had thought it might. Or perhaps she had known she would be sacrificing herself so he would not suffer whatever fate she had seen in her vision. She had not deserved such punishment for such an act of love and kindness.
With what little strength he had left, he lifted her hand slowly from the bed. The feeling of weakness frustrated him. He pushed through the pain it caused him as he brought her hand up to his mouth and eventually kissed her knuckles tenderly. He had imagined, at one point, that he would never see her again, let alone have the joy of feeling her next to him. Her skin was smooth on his lips, and it felt so good to feel her softness.
Skylar stirred at the movement and, lifting her head from the bed, cried out in pain as she sat up. “Argh.”
Maxwell frowned deeply once more. Evidently, those bastards had done more damage to her than just her eye, but then, deep down, he had known that. Even in his incapacitated state, Maxwell grew angry. He would get his revenge. Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but he would get it one day. Laird Johnson may have wounded him badly, but he had not won, nor had he achieved his aim. He had not been able to snatch Skylar as he had intended, and sooner or later, he would be back to try again. Maxwell would be ready. He had plenty of rage built up for him and all of his traitorous soldiers.
Upon opening her eyes, Skylar automatically looked up the bed, and noticing him gazing down at her, she looked utterly surprised. “Och, my god. Ye’re awake. I will go and fetch Bram,” she cried, about to stand up from the chair.
“Skylar!” Maxwell called out, gripping her hand more securely. His tone stopped her movement, and lowering herself slowly back down to the chair again, she gazed at him with confusion.
“What is it, Maxwell?”
“Please,” he said gently, “just stay with me for a while. I dinnae need anyone else but ye by my side right now.”
“All right,” she replied tenderly. “How are ye feeling?” Her eyes fell to the bandage wrapped around his chest before she looked back up at him again.
