to their fallen men. Louie was with them, helping a man sit up. There was so much blood and gore. A few horses had even been killed.
Ciaran! Bannon turned frantically, searching. He found Ciaran lying on the ground, Horace and Flùr standing close by. Bannon’s heart hammered away in his chest, and the sounds of the men around him faded into the background. His legs were numb, but somehow he managed to make it all the way to Ciaran’s side.
A bloody burn spot marred the upper part of Ciaran’s chest, toward the left shoulder, and blood blossomed on the white fabric of his shirt, spreading outward.
Bannon skidded to a halt, standing over Ciaran.
Brown eyes blinked up at him, and a soft smile eased over Ciaran’s pale lips. “Ye did guid, Red, but ye need tae sit down before ye fall down.” He reached a blood-encrusted hand up to him.
Wrapping his fingers around Ciaran’s, feeling the warmth, Bannon let it soak into him. Ciaran was alive. It was his last thought before his legs gave out and everything went black.
§ § § §
Lochwood Castle
The intermittent moonlight peeking through the clouds cut a white swath across the glassy surface of the lake, like a pathway leading all the way to the moon. It looked as though he could walk that trail, reach up, and touch the glowing orb as if it were separate from the endless cloud-covered sky above him. As if he could just grab hold and pull himself up into the haze and disappear. What if that was what death was like?
Bannon leaned back on his hands, resting them on the battlement where he sat, and his eyes blurred with tears. His stomach was a swirling mass of goo, and his emotions weren’t much better. He’d thought for sure that Ciaran was going to get killed today, and even now the thought made his heart race with panic. The reaction puzzled him. He hardly knew Ciaran, but that didn’t seem to matter.
His life was so mixed up all of a sudden. It was like being thrust into an alternate universe. He’d actually picked up a weapon to defend Ciaran. No, not just Ciaran. Ciaran’s men too. Blast, but he couldn’t get the image of the dead men out of his head, their lifeless eyes staring up at him. He’d rode with those men. Even talked to a few.
Then there were the men he shot. He didn’t know them, and he certainly didn’t like them because they were attacking people for money. Soldiers he understood and respected. Soldiers, like his brother-in-law, fought for causes, for things that were important to them, for their countries and their planets. But these men fought because someone—no, not just someone, the IN—was paying them. Paying them so they could take over. There was no righteousness in this. It was loathsome and wrong. They deserved to die because better them than him. And better them than the clansmen fighting for their home. That was right and just.
But what about their families? The people who loved and depended on them?
More tears gathered in Bannon’s eyes, but he dashed them away with the back of his hand. Damn those men! He’d kill them again if they weren’t already dead. How dare they make him kill them? And how dare they make him cry. He hated crying. He was an artist, damn it! He made the world prettier. He reveled in the beauty of nature, like the sight in front of him. He did not kill… until now. And what bothered him the most about that was that he would do it again. He knew without a doubt that he’d done the right thing.
The trapdoor opened, clapping back onto the stone floor of the tower behind him. He’d shut it when he came up here, hoping to be left alone. He wasn’t hiding exactly, but Louie had been shadowing him like he owed her money, and he needed time to think.
Footsteps echoed across the wood floor, and Ciaran said softly, “Louisa is beside herself with worry. She’s been searching fer ye.”
Bannon nodded, relieved to hear Ciaran’s voice, but didn’t turn around. “She was smothering me.” He sniffed discreetly and peered upward, stemming the flow of tears.
“She loves ye.”
Damn it, the tears blurred his vision again. “And I love her. How’s your arm?”
“I’ll live. It was just a graze like last time. How’s ye leg?”
“I’ll live.”
Ciaran chuckled right behind him.
Somehow when Bannon had been riding through the mass of battling