Chapter Thirty-Nine

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            When he came too, he found himself dispersed among a bed with a throbbing temple. He pushed up and was stayed by a sturdy hand.

                “Easy, my liege.” Ranulf assuaged, his scarred face set in grimness.

                Fallon blinked to awareness just as a tightness gripped his chest, “Alana?”

                The big warrior said nothing, propelling Fallon from the bed. He swayed on his feet but regained his stance, moving hastily towards the door. The burly warrior moved quickly, implanting himself in his path.

                “Move.” Fallon growled ominously, amber eyes burning.

                “You nearly killed McLeod with your hands-“

                “He is not dead?”

                Ranulf shook his head, “We’ve detained him.”

                Fallon’s jaw tightened, “Not for long.”

                He took a step forward and Ranulf put a hand to his chest, “My liege, now is not time for vengeance.”

                Fallon inhaled a deep, unsteady breath and then asked dauntingly, “Is it grave?”

                A flickering of unease glinted warily in the warrior’s dark eyes, “The severity of her wound we know not.”

                Fallon pushed by the burly warrior and started for her chambers. When he stepped into the room, the sight that greeted him brought him dead in his strides.

                She lay motionless, her lips lacking their dusty shade of pink, her cheeks without their rosy hue; the sickly pallor of her skin bathed in perspiration declared the graveness of her wound. Even the loveliness of her glorious, red hair dimmed in radiance. Her clothes had been carefully removed and just beneath the edge of the coverlet, he could see the bandaging soaked with blood.

                Nettie sobbed softly at her side, her face streaked in tears and heavy with heart. Ivan stood like a shadow in the corner, his long, solemn face etched severely with concern and next to him, Gavin, stood erect, his face tightly drawn with evident dismay.

                “Alana?” the hollowness in his voice matched the ache in his heart.

                Ivan and Gavin straightened from the wall. Nettie hadn’t turned around but remained weeping, clutching Alana’s hand.

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