Evanna was suffering from a conflicting barrage of emotions. She was furiously angry, infinitely grateful to Fraser, relieved because he had saved her life, and appalled because someone had come to murder her—no, both of them—in the first place. Yet here was something else too, something beautiful, beyond the thankfulness and the pain.
She loved him. She loved this man who had come into her life when he was so helpless and vulnerable, and she was all that had stood between him and death. It had only been a few days, but already she could not imagine her life without him, and it seemed as though he had always been there.
However, she would be without him forever if anyone caught him, or both of them, with the body. Suddenly she became brisk and practical. “We will have tae get rid of him,” she observed. “We have a long time ’til dawn, but if we leave it too long to move him, he will start tae smell. We will have tae drag him and then carry him downstairs. I can take his feet an’ ye can take his shoulders.”
“No. I can lift him.” Fraser’s voice was grim and certain, then he frowned. “But I have only one set o’ clothes, an’ I need them when I escape. They will be no good if they are covered in blood.”
“Then take them off,” Evanna said simply. “Yer shirt, anyway.”
He laughed softly. “I had no’ thought o’ that,” he replied, and began to strip off his shirt, revealing his strapping figure once more.
Evanna had always been amazed at and entranced by the beautiful musculature of his upper body, despite his bandage, but now she had no time to admire him. She was more worried about his ability to move the corpse without tearing his wound open again.
“Are ye sure ye can manage?” she asked anxiously, looking at the wound.
“I am fine,” he replied. His injury was aching painfully, but he schooled his expression into a grim smile. “Where are we goin’?”
Evanna thought for a moment, then held up a finger. “I have an idea,” she replied. “I think it would be best if everybody thought he was attacked by boars. He has a stab wound, but nobody will see that because there will no’ be much left o’ him by the time the wild hogs have finished wi’ him. We can take him intae the forest if ye can carry him as far as the stables.”
She grabbed the lantern by her bed, lit it, and turned it down so that the light was only just visible, then they moved down the staircase until they reached the back door.
“Wait here,” Evanna whispered. She went over to the stable and came out with a handcart, into which Fraser dumped the body, practically throwing it in.
“There ye are, ye wee tyke,” he hissed, spitting on the corpse. “That is a’ the dignity ye deserve.” His voice was almost a snarl.
They wheeled the cart into the forest, and finally, Evanna was able to turn the lamp up a little to give them a little more light. Eventually they found a piece of the forest floor that bore all the telltale signs that wild pigs had been rooting on it. The muddy ground was rutted with deep holes and the prints of many cloven hooves in it, perhaps dozens.
“Here,” Evanna instructed, and Fraser tipped the cart up so that the body slid partially out of it. It slumped onto the ground with a squelching sound. Between them, they pulled it out until it was sprawled on the ground. The eyes were still open, and Evanna knelt to close them.
“Let the crows peck them out,” Fraser growled as he watched her. He kicked the corpse one last time before marching away. “I hope yer poxy flesh does no’ sicken the poor boars,” he said sourly.
Evanna grabbed his arm. “I cannot walk as fast as ye can,” she pointed out.
“I am sorry,” he replied with an angry sigh. “I am so angry.”
“So am I,” she admitted.
“God knows what would have happened if ye had no’ left that cup on the floor!” Fraser sighed. He fisted his hand and almost punched a tree trunk in fury before Evanna somehow managed to grab his wrist.
“Hurting yersel’ will no’ help,” she pointed out. “I have no more bandages.”
“Ye are right, of course, Evanna.” His voice was weary, then he smiled at her. “Ye always are. Now let us hurry. I am absolutely freezin’!”
There was a comfortable silence between them until they crept back into the tavern and reached Evanna’s room.
When they were inside, Fraser put on his shirt while Evanna fetched a bucket of water and a scrubbing brush and began to scour the bloodstains off the floor.
When she had finished, she stood up and looked him squarely in the eye. “Ye cannot stay here anymore,” she said, sighing. “I don’t know how that man got in here, but if he can do this tae us, he can do it tae anyone. I will no’ have my father’s life put in danger like this.”
Fraser nodded slowly. “Ye are right,” he murmured. “I am a danger to all o’ us. Ye nearly died taenight because of me.”
Evanna hastened to reassure him. “Ye are no’ the danger, Fraser,” she said soothingly. “It is the people who hunt ye. None o’ us is safe while ye are here, although it is no’ yer fault. I don’t understand how they knew ye were here, though.”
“How did they know?” He gave a cynical laugh. “Rowan is very cunning. He saw or heard something. How did Davie get in? He is a clever man. He most likely picked the lock because it is somethin’ most o’ us can do, even me.” He began to pace the floor, but Evanna stilled him with a hand on his arm.
“He could have heard ye doin’ that an’ worked out which room ye were in. He only needed a suspicion, no’ a certainty,” she told him. “Anyway, Fraser, I am sorry, but my da is becomin’ weaker an’ weaker by the day, an’ I do not want him in this kind o’ peril. It pains me sorely, but ye must go.” She hung her head, deeply ashamed at having to turn out a hunted man, a good man, who had nowhere to go.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “Ye are only doin’ what is right for ye an’ yer family. But even if Rowan kills me, I will go tae my grave glad tae have met ye, Evanna Mulholland, for ye have lit up my life. I have never met anybody like ye, an’...” He swallowed. “I-I love ye.”