Jorgen unclasped her cloak and left it lying on the ground. He scooped her up in his arms and started walking toward the gamekeeper’s cottage.
Odette pressed her face against his shoulder, her hand limp against his chest.
Odette saw the arrows sticking out of her, but she somehow didn’t feel the pain until she fell to the ground and saw Jorgen coming toward her.
Jorgen had shot her.
It hardly seemed real, even though the pain was real enough.
He had gazed down at her, his hands limp at his sides, his eyes wide and mouth open.
She tried not to writhe or cry out when he slid his arms underneath her and lifted her off the ground. He carried her so her left arm and leg were not touching his body, but the jostling of his footsteps sent sharp, aching pains shooting through her arm and leg.
What would Jorgen do to her? Her dream would come true now. He would lock her in the dungeon and hate her.
How hurt Jorgen must feel at how she had fooled him. How sickened he must be that the girl he had claimed to love had betrayed him. She had gotten him in trouble with the margrave by poaching so many deer. She had broken the law it was his duty to uphold. And now his expression was pained, crushed, shocked. O God, I am sorry for hurting him. Please do not let him hate me.
She tried to muffle the sounds of her groaning against the soft leather of his shoulder cape, but she could no more control her gasps and moans than she could control the pains shooting through her body.
Jorgen had really shot her.
He walked quickly, carrying her as if she weighed little. She wished he would say something, anything. He should rebuke her, demand to know why she was poaching, express his anger at her betrayal. The silence was like a wall of pain separating them.
After many minutes, he began to slow his pace and his breathing became more labored. She was not small, being rather taller and broader than most women. But Jorgen was obviously very strong. Still, even he would have a hard time carrying her so far.
To distract herself from the pain, and from worrying about Jorgen’s suffering, her mind conjured up his broad shoulders and rock-hard arms, his muscled back and leather-encased thighs. He would not like her to think him incapable, but she couldn’t help wanting to save him from carrying her the whole way.
Odette made an effort to choke back her tears. “You do not have to carry me. I think I can walk.”
He kept up his pace and did not answer her.
Somehow his refusal to answer, which she assumed meant resentment, helped her dry up her tears. She bit her lip to stop herself from moaning and let her head lie against his shoulder.
After what was probably only a few more minutes, they reached the gamekeeper’s cottage. He pushed open the door with his foot and carried her inside.
It was dark and Odette was feeling light-headed. She closed her eyes and didn’t try to see where they were going.
Jorgen moved carefully through the house before lowering her to a soft surface. When he did, he brushed against the arrow protruding from her arm, and she gasped in pain.
“I am sorry.”
“Jorgen?” His mother’s voice came from deeper in the cottage. “Is that you?”
“Mother, can you bring a lantern and some candles?” he called, his voice strained.
Odette felt his breath on her cheek as he leaned close.
“Odette?”
“Yes?”
A sound like a choked sob escaped him. She couldn’t see him, but she felt his hand on her hair. “I am sorry,” he whispered.
“Please forgive me,” Odette whispered back. “I want to explain.” Her own voice sounded strained, too, as she failed to bite back another gasp of pain.
“Do not talk.”
Did she detect a note of bitterness in his voice? She didn’t have a chance to say more because his mother shuffled into the room carrying a lantern.
“Oh, saints among us!” she cried as she held the lantern over Odette’s bloody arm and leg.
“Mother, I need to go fetch the healer at the edge of the forest. Can you stay with Odette until I get back?”
“Of course. Oh, my dear, you poor thing. What happened?”
Jorgen’s face was a hard mask as he turned away. “I will return as fast as I can.” And he was gone.
Jorgen ran all the way to the healer’s cottage. Thankfully, she did not object to leaving her bed in the middle of the night and going with him to tend a wounded person. She pulled on a cloak, picked up her bag of supplies and her own lantern, and followed him back to the gamekeeper’s cottage.
When he returned, Odette lay on his bed, shaking from head to toe. Jorgen’s mother stood from where she was sitting beside Odette.