Page 36 of Highlander's Runaway Seductress
“Aye,” Damien said. “What is wrong with you, Morgana? Why did ye try to kill Amelie?”
“Why nae?” Morgana snapped while she pressed a hand to her head, “Ye chose her over me.”
“There was nothin’ between ye and me,” Damien replied. “There was nothin’ and there will never be anythin’. But why? Why did ye think the best thing to do was to come all the way here, sabotagin’ her name along the way, and now try to kill her?”
Morgana slumped against a wall behind her, while pressing her hand tighter “She isnae for ye, Damien,” Morgana said finally. “The two of ye are nae matched and one day, she’ll break yer heart, mark me words.”
“Ye ripped her clothes,” he said.
“Be glad I dinnae listen to the temptation to use me blade in other ways,” she spat.
“Ye’re injured,” Damien said after a long, stifling silence. “How will ye get back home? Should—”
“Ye neednae do anythin’,” Morgana scoffed. “I’ll manage. Ye go take care of yer preciousAmelie.”
He reached out. “I still think—”
“Daenae ye touch me,” Morgana hissed and tottered past him. “I’ll make me way alone. If I die, I’ll die.”
Damien spun, “Morgana!”
Yet she had already turned the corner and had disappeared; Damien made to go after her, but Ben stopped him. “Leave her alone, lad; t’will only make things worse for ye.”
Raking his hand through his hair, Damien gazed in the direction Morgana had gone, fear with a mix of guilt covering his face.
Eventually, he turned away and went back to the two. “We should find somewhere to stay in the woods, because I daenae think we’ll find lodgin’—safe lodgin’—in this village.”
Amelie stepped off, but stumbled and swooned, Damien grabbed her just before she tumbled over. He slid his arms under her legs and back and lifted her to his chest. With her head spinning, Amelie heard Damien say something to Ben, and the man went off. The pain in her head had dulled from fiery flares to a pulsing throb.
She nestled her head into his neck and took in harsh breaths to try and quell the pain. Amelie could only bear with it as there was nothing more that she could do about it.
She felt when Damien rested her on the cart, with her head pillowed on a sack. Soon, Ben joined her and while she was mustering through the agony, Damien rode them away from the town.
Ben shifted her head from the hard bed of the cart to his lap, and she felt better. Time passed with hard drums of pain and short flashes of relief, and soon she felt Damien lift her and rest her on a padded bed. Then, he turned her on her side.
“Lass,” he said softly. “This is going to hurt for a while, but I promise ye, tis for the best.”
She barely uttered a word then sucked in a breath, that was fortunate, because in the next moment, Damien pressed a cloth, doused with what she presumed was whisky on the cut on her temple.
The pain from the touch had Amelie calling out and jerking her head away, but Damien kept her still while he cleaned the cut. Soon the burn began to fade away and then Damien tilted her head up for her to drink some of the liquor.
“I’m sorry I wasnae there to protect ye,” Damien apologized. “I stayed back to argue with the woman about her slurs, when I should have gone after ye. I’m sorry.”
The pain was starting to fade, and Amelie managed to utter, “Dinnae be. T’was nae yer fault. I should have ken better to nae run off.”
Damien slid his fingers into her hair and massaged her head, to give her some additional relief. “I—I failed ye, Amelie. I should have taken yer concerns about Morgana seriously, instead I brushed it off. I dinnae think she would go to such lengths to hurt ye, spreadin’ lies, and makin’ people hate ye. I never expected that she would try to kill ye.”
She heard profound regret in his voice and felt it in his soothing touch. Managing a faint smile, Amelie replied, “I daenae blame ye.”
He shook his head, and his voice broke. “Ye could have died, Leelee. I—If Ben had nae followed ye, I’d have found yer body on the street, discarded like rubbish.”
She peeled her eyes open and managed to hold his gaze, eyes clouded over with a sheen of tears.
“I shouldnae have left ye alone.”
“Daenae hate yerself,” Amelie whispered as her heavy eyes fluttered closed again. “I’ll be fine.”
Before she drifted off to sleep, Amelie felt a single drop of a tear landing on her cheek, then the light brush of a thumb over her skin, wiping it away. She heard a few whispered words, and she might have imagined him saying, ‘I love ye,’ but even if he had not said it, she knew her feelings for him were not in question.
