Page 114 of Wicked Rivals
When she reached Cedric, he was pressing his hands into Ashton’s shoulder. Blood oozed between Cedric’s fingers as he struggled to keep hold of Ashton’s shoulder. Ashton’s eyes were wide open but unseeing, and his face white as marble. The battle seemed to have ended, and the men were collecting themselves and checking on one another.
“We need a doctor.” Cedric gasped as he tried to lift Ashton up.
“Doctor?” Brock was suddenly kneeling beside her and Cedric. “I can fetch him. You have a horse?” he asked Cedric.
Cedric nodded toward the spot of woods a bit of the way down the road. “Behind the thicket.”
Without another word, Brock sprinted toward the trees.
An unsettling hush overtook the dusty road. Godric and Cedric were hunched over, tying up two wounded men. Godric’s leg was badly wounded, and he limped as he walked. Jonathan leaned over Lucien, who was resting against the castle wall, a slash from a sword deep across his chest, blood dripping down his stomach.
“Where’s the one with the letters?” Charles asked, glancing around. His breath was heavy as he clutched at one arm, red seeping between his fingers. “He’s not here.”
“I count two others missing,” said Godric.
Rosalind and Cedric shared glances. She couldn’t erase the sight of Ashton’s blood out of her mind.
Ride fast,Brock,she silently prayed. Every one of these men needed a doctor. Her brothers too were scraped and cut in places, the battle leaving no man unharmed.
“Let’s lift him up,” Godric said as he and Jonathan helped Cedric and Rosalind carry Ashton back inside. “He needs a bed.”
Aiden rushed ahead of them. “There’s an empty bedchamber this way.” It was one of the many empty rooms that had been furnished years ago but left unoccupied. Aiden tore down the white sheets, and a cloud of dust billowed up, making everyone cough. They got Ashton settled, and Rosalind instructed her brother to fetch clean cloths and hot water.
“Was anyone else shot?” Rosalind glanced at the ragged group of men, bleeding and limping as they joined her in the bedroom.
“Just a few scrapes,” Godric said, but Rosalind noticed his complexion was ashen. Pain lined his face as he shifted his weight off his injured leg. “Ashton was the only one who caught a bullet, luckily.” The Duke of Essex’s green eyes glinted with fury.
“Where is Brodie?” she asked. She tried to assess the rest of their injuries. A gash across Lucien’s chest, Charles’s pierced arm, Jonathan’s brow was bleeding… They would all need seeing to.
Lucien cleared his throat. “He is securing the two men still alive. I’m afraid we’re facing a bit of a situation.”
“What do you mean?” She looked back at Ashton, brushing the hair out of his closed eyes. He didn’t stir. Her heart beat as though each pulse cost her a second of Ashton’s life, and she wished she could slow the pendulum of time so she wouldn’t lose him.
“We will need to have a word with the local magistrate regarding the two who died,” Lucien explained.
“Well, my brother Brock is the local magistrate.”
Jonathan gave an obvious sigh of relief. “Well that’s a small miracle. Explaining this to someone else would have been difficult.”
Aidan returned then, carrying a stack of white cloths and a pail of hot water.
“Bring them here.”
She dabbed the cloth in the water and pressed it to Ashton’s shoulder. Ashton suddenly moaned softly. The blood was starting to thicken on his shirt. She’d never been a squeamish creature, but this… She swallowed down a wave of nausea and applied more pressure to the wound.
“Stay with me,” she said, cupping Ashton’s cheek.
His lips moved. “Rosalind…”
“I’m here.” Her voice broke as she spoke. Charles bent over the bed beside her and took Ashton’s hand, gripping it. Rosalind froze as she saw the tortured look in his eyes. If she had ever doubted the love between Ashton and his friends, the doubts were now long removed. She covered Charles’s hand, which in turn held Ashton’s.
“He’s too stubborn,” Cedric muttered. “Ash has been shot before. This isn’t new to him.” Cedric looked around the room as though seeking for the others to agree with him.
“That doesn’t mean he should be making a habit of it,” said Rosalind, frustrated with her inability to do more.
“Come on, old boy,” said Lucien. “You can pull through this.” He and the others formed a silent vigil around Ashton. Godric gave Rosalind a sympathetic gaze, as though he knew what it was like to sit at the bedside of someone he loved and fear they would never wake.
I suppose I am one of themnow.
