A Pirate's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 27 - "Lean on me."

A breath of a moment passed between Isla and Raif, their eyes locked. Raif's anger over Isla believing him to be behind the ambush faded as she relaxed. Their connection broke as Raif lowered his head and tied off a third sleeve on Isla's leg.

Standing, he held out his hand to her. She took it, his hands calloused and strong. He lifted her to her feet, keeping hold of her for a second longer before letting go.

The instant Isla put weight on her injured leg searing pain sliced through her. She gritted her teeth and fell back against the wall behind her. The coarse stone dug into her back, the bricks still holding a touch heat from the sun's glare despite being shaded.

As Isla stood there, trying to think past the agony in her thigh, the rest of her body let their own aches and bruises known. Her side was throbbing, her shoulder was sore, and her head pulsed at the back where a knot had formed.

"Let me help you," Raif said.

She stared at him as if not understanding what he was saying, the multifaceted wounds leeching away her energy and dulling her mind. Sensing this, Raif stepped forward and took her arm, wrapping it around his shoulders. Beneath his shirt she could feel his muscles tensing, ready to support her.

"Lean on me," he said.

As Isla hoisted herself off the wall, Raif slid an arm around her side. She sucked in a breath and clutched the fabric of his silken shirt as he hit her bruised ribs. Stiffening, Raif hurriedly shifted his hold lower on her waist.

"Is that better?" he asked.

Isla nodded, waiting for the flare of pain to subside. When it did, she ventured a step forward. With Raif's support, movement was manageable, though she could feel herself weakening as her leg kept bleeding.

"We need to get back to the main street," she said. "Find a carriage."

Raif didn't argue, merely held her closer, letting his body be her crutch. Around them drifted the coppery scent of blood. The smell drew Isla's gaze down to the strewn bodies of Raif's father's men. In the narrow lane, the overlapping limbs made the carnage of their fight seem twice as violent. Though all of the men were unmoving, they were still breathing. Raif navigated around the men and back towards the bustling thoroughfare.

"How will your father react to you turning on his men?" Isla asked, her voice tired.

Raif glanced back at the scene of their fight as if only then noticing they were from his father. With a troubled wrinkle in his brow, he faced the lane opening.

"He will be furious, most likely believe that I did it to spite him. Though he might believe that I have been bewitched and don't know what I was doing."

"The first seems more believable."

Raif smiled at her, which she scowled at not knowing what was behind his expression.

"I don't know, the second seems believable to me."

Isla looked away, not having the cognitive strength to dissect all that he meant. As they moved further towards the lane's entrance they heard the clip-clop of hooves grow louder, the steady beat accompanied by the creak of wheels on cobblestones. It was a sound that helped Isla keep moving, knowing that there would be a reprieve from walking.

With each step, shocks of discomfort stabbed her leg. She leaned more heavily on Raif, who took her weight without comment, his arm steady as it was pressed into her side.

"I have to say," he said. "I have never met someone who gets in as many scrapes as you do. Is this a common occurrence for you?"

Isla closed her eyes for a second, gathering her strength. "It seems to be of late. Lord Sutherland's errands have not been peaceful exchanges."