“Bad men,” he said, as if that explained everything. He tied the horses to the backboard, clambered up onto the cart, and took the reins.
Carlos helped Alejandro and Kit into the cart and they set off down the road.
The journey back to the camp seemed endless. Heloise tried to hold Raven’s head steady, but every jolt made it loll and she winced in sympathy, even though he was unconscious.
Their arrival caused a flurry of activity. Alejandro barked out orders and within minutes both Kit and Alejandro had been dealt with by Maria and Raven had been carried into Elvira’s caravan. Heloise followed in his wake, knowing it made sense to allow the more experienced healer do the work.
She sank down on the caravan steps and stared numbly at her lap. Raven’s blood covered everything: her hands, her skirts. The world dimmed and chilled, as if an icy fog twisted round her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh God. He couldn’t die.
It seemed hours later when the old woman came out, wiping her hands on the front of her blood-spattered apron.
Heloise leaped upright. “Is he all right? Please tell me he’s alive.”
When Elvira nodded, a wave of relief washed over her, so great she staggered and had to sit back down on the step.
“He’ll live. Head as hard as granite, that one. I’ve removed the bullet from his leg, too. You can go in and see him, but I’ve given him something for the pain so he might not make much sense.”
Heloise practically pushed her out of the way.
Raven smiled woozily up at her from the bed and her terror ebbed as she saw that he was indeed still among the living.
“Hellcat.”
Heloise sank down on the side of the bunk because her legs threatened to give way again. Her hands were shaking, too, so she hid them in her lap and nodded at the bandage around his head. “You’ll have a scar.”
He blinked and gave her a slow, lopsided grin. Whatever Elvira had given him had clearly produced a sensation similar to intoxication. “We’ll match.”
Heloise bit her lip. “Not really. Yours will be hidden by your hair.”
Her stomach clenched as she recalled his words the night they’d made love. Only a lover would know abouthisscar. “Are you angry I disobeyed your orders?”
“No. You saved my life with that distraction.”
“Shooting a bell isn’t terribly heroic,” she said wryly.
His eyes darkened. “Real heroism isn’t public and showy. Countless examples go unremarked and unrewarded every day. Kit’s alive because of you. That’s something amazing, Hellcat. Don’t ever forget it.”
Her face warmed but he’d already closed his eyes in exhaustion. Heloise succumbed to temptation and cupped his cheek with her palm. Love and despair gripped her as she realized how close she’d been to losing him. She’d experienced this same, pervasive dread when he’d been kidnapped, morbidly certain that every message that came to the house would be the one that told them of his death.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to draw back. Raven was strong. He’d survived his kidnap. He’d survive this, too. But at what cost?
He frowned as she leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered.
Chapter 40
The journey back to England was a blur.
Raven and Kit both improved under Elvira’s watchful eye but the closer they got to Santander, the more distant Raven became. It was hard to define exactly, but she could sense him withdrawing into himself. He was his usual teasing, charming self, always glad to see her, but his wall of reserve had returned. He made absolutely no references to their one night of intimacy.
Heloise hid her dismay. In her weakest moments she’d imagined never going home, traveling with Raven in this tiny caravan forever, seeing the world, the two of them having adventures. But that had always been an impossible dream. The adventure was decidedly over.
They parted from Alejandro’s band at Santander. The wound on Raven’s thigh prevented him from stomping around and giving orders, but Kit had improved so much with the gypsies’ good food and attention that he assumed command of theHopealmost as soon as he walked up the gangplank. Raven was installed in his cabin, and Heloise spent most of the crossing staring out at waters that changed from a welcoming turquoise to an angry, choppy gray.
After the excitement and freedom of the past weeks her life in England loomed ahead like a monstrous gilded cage. She didn’t want to reprise the role society had allotted her, that of brilliant-but-wounded-eccentric. Even the attentions of her well-meaning family would feel suffocating.
She had only herself to blame. Raven had never made any secret of the fact that he wouldn’t be tied down with one woman forever. Marriage for him was a prison as sure as the one in which he’d been held, except the bars were invisible, and the wounds to the heart instead of the flesh.
The idea of reverting to their almost-friendship made her feel hollow inside. Raven would throw himself into his next adventure, while she’d be stuck at home, getting older and more bitter, trapped in a society that expected so little of her. To marry and settle down and have babies. To think of nothing more frivolous than the style of her hat or the number of ruffles on her gown. She would go mad.