“Go, Diana.”
She ignored him and raced across the wet pavement to the car. The door handle was slick beneath her trembling hands, but she finally managed to yank it open and get the car started. After a brief prayer that she’d be able to operate a car with a steering wheel on the wrong side, she revved it into reverse and backed up close to the spot where he lay. She scrambled out of the car and struggled to help him up.
“Come on, you have to get up so we can go to the hospital.” Could there possibly be a hospital on this small island? Was the ferry still running?
“No hospital.” He clenched his teeth, his face twisted with pain. “I’ll heal.”
He’d heal? Magically? That was something she didn’t want to ponder, not now.
He pushed himself up, and between the two of them, they managed to get him into the back seat. Then she hurled herself into the driver’s seat and took off, foot pressed hard on the gas. Squinting, she peered out the windshield and tried to make out the road that was supposed to be ahead. Left turn, left turn. Where was it?
There. A small road, nothing more than a dirt path, shimmered in the wet grass. The temperamental moon provided barely enough light to see it. She pulled the wheel left and the tires spun on the gravel.
The drive went on forever, gradually leading up toward the sea, until a large stone manor house appeared. The land just beyond it dropped off abruptly. The house sat on a cliff. She got the impression of a sprawling old building with as many secrets as its master.
She pulled up to the front steps and climbed out of the car. With shaking hands, she yanked the car door open.
“Cadan?” He was slumped in the seat, but he looked up at the sound of her voice. “Come on, I’ll help you up. We need to get inside.”
She glanced around her at the land surrounding the house, grateful to see no ominous figures stalking the night. Just tree branches whipping in the wind. He groaned as he climbed out of the car, but was already moving a bit more easily.
“I’m fine,” he said brusquely, but stumbled.
“You’re not.” Stupid man. She wedged herself under his arm again and led him up the worn stone steps that had been trod upon by countless feet. Or perhaps the same feet, just countless times. She looked up at the man leaning heavily on her.
He seemed to be dragging himself up toward the door. How many times in his long life had he crawled away from battle, barely alive? She was just glad she’d been here to help him this time.
“The key, Cadan, where is it?” She patted at his pockets, desperate to get both of them to safety behind closed doors.
“Doona need it.” His voice was breathless with pain.
He leaned against one of the wide wooden doors and it swung open slowly, silently. Clearly, either no one would dare enter his home uninvited, or it was hidden by magic.
The foyer within was high ceilinged and dark. She led him across the wooden floor toward the wide stairway.
“Where’s your bed? Is anyone else here?”
“Upstairs, left.” He stopped to draw a ragged breath. “And nay.”
They stumbled up the stairs together, his weight feeling like Sisyphus’s boulder on her shoulder. He nodded toward a doorway at the end of the hall, and they staggered through it. As they passed over the threshold she stuck her hand out, hoping to find a light switch. Sheer luck led her fingers to it quickly, and she flipped it on. Windows covered one wall that would probably look out to the sea, and against the adjacent wall sat a large four-poster bed.
She steered Cadan toward it and he collapsed onto the bed, groaning heavily as he settled onto the comforter. Soft, dark cloth covered a sea of mattress set into a heavy wooden frame.
“Cadan, listen to me. Do you have any medical supplies? Extra towels?” The idea of stitching his wounds made her stomach heave, but some of them were deep and miserable. “You need stitches.”
“Bathroom. No stitches. I’ll heal.”
Relief rushed through her. No sewing through flesh today, thank God. But she could still help him, so she turned, scanning the different doors that led from the room, looking for a bathroom. One, near the wall of windows, looked like the most likely candidate.
Inside, she found a large, modern bathroom. After rifling through the cabinets, she found a box of medical supplies and a large bowl beneath the sink and dragged them out. She filled the bowl with water and grabbed some towels. Arms loaded, she headed into the bedroom.
Most of the color had faded from his skin and his paleness stood out starkly against the dark bedspread. Closer inspection revealed that Cadan had drifted into an uneasy sleep, and though he was breathing evenly, his face was tense.
She dipped a cloth into the bowl of water and ran it over his face. It grated roughly over the stubble of his beard, but she managed to remove most of the sweat and blood. Cleaned of it, his features were strong and symmetrical. Handsome, there was no other way to put it.
Diana blew out a breath. She needed to quit ogling. But it was hard, particularly when the man had leapt out of the car to defend her and had received these injuries on her behalf. He’d been so fierce. He’d protect her with his life, but push her away because it was against the rules. He wouldn’t kiss her, not once he remembered that he shouldn’t, and he wouldn’t give her any clues about her identity.
But then, she understood about following rules.