Dougal put his head in his hands and Andrew trembled with suppressed fury. He strode toward the stairs leading to the dungeon as he ordered, “Make a room ready.”
Donald asked, “Andrew, is David all right? Where are ye going?”
“Davy’s fine,” Graham answered. “It appears the ‘damned MacKay lass’ saved his life, and I suspect Andrew is going to release her from the dungeon.”
When Andrew reached the cell, he found the lass huddled in a ball, wrapped in the thin plaid she had been given. “Come, angel, let me get ye out of here.” He lifted her from the wooden bed. She was blue with cold and her breathing was shallow. He prayed fervently that it wasn’t too late.
He carried her to the empty chamber the servants were preparing and tucked her into the bed. Isla arrived shortly, clucked her tongue and started working to warm her. Andrew couldn’t bring himself to leave until he knew the lass would be all right. But, in spite of all Isla did, later that evening the little MacKay began to tremble violently as she succumbed to a fever.
Andrew still stayed with her, unable to do anything but unwilling to leave. Her fever raged through the night and into the next day as he sat helplessly by.
~ * ~
Anna became vaguely aware that she was in a soft bed. Clearly she was no longer in the dungeon. Everything hurt and, no longer cold, she was so hot she knew she must surely be surrounded by fire. I must have died and gone to hell, she thought. She forced her eyes open, sending a piercing pain through her head. She closed them again, smiling grimly. If she was in hell she thought, at least one of those MacLeod devils was here too. With that she slipped back into oblivion.
Chapter 2
“Where in the hell can she be?” demanded Eoin MacKay.
Marcas, the captain of his guard stood before him. “I don’t know, Laird, we’ve been searching for her since we discovered her missing this morning.”
Eoin blamed himself that it had taken so long for anyone to realize she was gone. He had argued with her the previous afternoon and thought she was in her room pouting. At the time, he had been angry enough with her to ignore her pique, so he left her there to stew.
“Eoin, ye shouldn’t have threatened her,” said one of his younger brothers.
“Dammit, Aidan, do ye not think I feel guilty enough? She needed a taste of reality.”
His other brother’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps threatening to marry her to Laird Morrison’s heir was a larger bite of reality than our little sister could stomach. Ye know she wants to stay here—or at least close. Sending her to the islands would break her heart.”
“Are ye going to turn on me too, Tasgall? God’s teeth, she surely didn’t believe I’d agree to that betrothal.”
“I believed ye,” said his wife quietly.
“Fiona, love, I want her married, but I wouldn’t marry her to a Morrison or send her that far away. I just wanted her to start taking this seriously. She’s almost twenty.” He turned back to Marcas. “Did ye find anyone else who saw her leave yesterday?”
“Like I told ye, several villagers said she walked up the bluff, but no one saw her after that. We have searched to the south end of the loch and found no sign of her.”
“Did ye search to the north end?” asked Fiona hesitantly.
“No. She knows better than to go that direction. Surely she wouldn’t venture so close to MacLeod territory,” said Marcas.
“Oh, God’s breath I hope not,” swore Eoin.
“It would explain why no one saw her after she climbed the bluff. No one would expect her to go that direction. She just might have done it to goad ye,” reasoned Aidan.
Eoin shook his head. “Nay, she can be rash, but she wouldn’t be that foolhardy.” In truth, he wasn’t all that confident. At the looks of doubt on the other faces Eoin swore loudly. “Let’s go, Marcas!”
“Laird, it’s getting late. I don’t think it’s wise for ye, or any member of the family,” he looked pointedly at Tasgall and Aidan, “to venture that close to MacLeod land after dark. It could be a trap to capture ye for ransom.”
“Marcas, if they’ve set a trap, they have my sister to ransom.”
Marcas’ brow furrowed. “Laird, ye don’t know that. They haven’t sent a ransom demand.”
Marcas was right. If Anna was dead, they couldn’t ransom her.
At the look of stunned disbelief on Fiona’s face Eoin said, “My love, Marcas is not suggesting anything is amiss, we simply don’t know.”
Marcas nodded. “Aye, my lady, and therefore, I think it wiser not to take a risk until we investigate.”
Eoin waved him away. “I can’t argue with that. Take at least a score of men with ye and if ye run into trouble, show no mercy.”
~ * ~
When they returned, the news was bleak. “Laird, it looks as if she might have fallen through the ice.”
Fiona buried her head against her husband’s chest and started weeping. Stunned, Eoin asked, “Are ye certain?”
“We can’t be certain of anything. We followed the bluff to the head of the loch and something clearly has broken through the ice there recently. But there were also signs that horses had been on the opposite shore. There is no way of knowing what happened or even when it happened.”
“Maybe the MacLeods do have her,” Fiona said hopefully. “I hate to think of her as a captive. I know how frightening that can be.” She gave Eoin a pointed look. “Still it is a good sight better than drowning in a frozen loch. Besides, I’ve met the MacLeods; they aren’t as bad as ye think. If they have her, I can’t believe they would hurt her.”
Eoin, Aidan and Tasgall looked shocked by her faith. Eoin said, “Ye were a MacNicol. There is no enmity between the MacNicols and the MacLeods, although I don’t understand why, because they’ll rob ye blind if ye let them. But the MacKays and the MacLeods have a long-standing feud. They will not treat her well.”
“The MacKays and the MacNicols were in the midst of a long-standing feud when ye kidnapped me, but ye didn’t harm me.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I’m not a MacLeod.”
Fiona rolled her eyes at him.
“Besides we don’t even know if they have her. We can only wait and see if they make a demand.” He never imagined he would pray to receive a ransom request from Dougal MacLeod.
~ * ~
Late in the afternoon on the third day after she was captured, the lass’s fever still raged. Andrew stood by the hearth watching as Isla bathed her face and arms with cool water. He remembered a similar night several years ago when he sat by his wife’s bed watching helplessly as death claimed her. He believed he was to blame then as well. Joan had just delivered their second son, but the bairn came too early and never drew a breath. Joan had lost so much blood during the ordeal it was as if she simply faded away.
Dougal stepped quietly into the room, nodded a greeting to his son and asked Isla, “Will she live?”
“I don’t know, Laird. She grows weaker. I can’t seem to get her fever to break.”
“Sweet mother of God,” he swore and sank into one of the chairs in the room. “She saved my grandson’s life and I called her a whore, struck her and threw her in my dungeon.”
“Da, this isn’t yer fault. I saw her on the shore stripping Davy out of his wet clothes, wrapping him in her dry ones and still believed she was trying to hurt him. None of us could believe that a MacKay would do that for a MacLeod.”
Isla frowned, “With all due respect, Laird, Andrew, stop it. I don’t need ye licking yer wounds while I am trying to keep the waif alive. This didn’t happen only because of the errors in judgment each of ye made. It happened because of the decades of hate both clans bred. Now this lass, who risked her own life to save our Davy, is paying the price for that hate.”
Andrew glanced at his father and saw the shame he felt mirrored on Dougal’s face. With a disgusted huff, Isla turned back to tend her charge.
After a mom
ent, Dougal asked, “How is Davy today?”
Andrew shrugged. “He’s fine. He didn’t get so much as a sniffle and apparently talks incessantly about his angel. I dismissed Nessa and sent her back to her parent’s croft. I can’t lay eyes on her without my blood boiling. Cora will care for him for the time being.” Andrew sat brooding for a few minutes. Finally he asked, “Have ye sent a message to Laird MacKay?”
“To tell him what? ‘I have a MacKay seamstress named Eve. I’ll send ye a ransom demand if she lives?’ He isn’t likely to pay a ransom for a fatherless seamstress anyway. Nothing good can come from telling him now.”
They continued to sit in vigil as Isla worked, but by evening when the lass’s fever still burned, Isla asked them to fetch Father Ninian.
“Isla, is there nothing ye can do?” Laird MacLeod asked.
“Laird, she’s only a wee thing to begin with. I’m doing everything I can, but she was half frozen and now she’s very weak. Would ye deny her Extreme Unction?”
“Nay, of course not. I prayed it wouldn’t be necessary.”
Andrew rose to leave. “I’ll go, Da.”
“Nay, son, stay here. I’ll fetch him.”
Isla continued to gently bathe the lass’s face and arms, still trying to bring her fever down.
~ * ~
Anna became vaguely aware of the people who stood around her praying. Someone intoned “Adjútorium nostrum in nómine Dómini,” Our help is in the Name of the Lord.
Then the others in the room murmured the response, “Qui fecit caelum et terram,” Who made Heaven and Earth.
I must not be in hell yet. The prayers continued. She wanted to join them but she was very tired. She heard the Latin words asking for the protection of angels, “Hear us, holy Lord, almighty Father, eternal God: and be pleased to send Thy holy angel from Heaven to guard, cherish, protect, visit and defend all that dwell in this house. Through Christ our Lord.”
Yes, God, I think I need an angel. She whispered, “Amen,” before slipping away again.
The murmuring continued, drawing her back. The prayers were familiar but in her groggy state, it took her a few moments to realize what they were. Oh how sad, someone’s dying. I should pray too. It was just so terribly hard for her to concentrate.
Then from somewhere very close to her, a gentle voice said, “Eve, daughter, are ye awake?”
Is he talking to me? She blinked several times and tried to focus.
An elderly priest smiled kindly at her and said in Latin, “Receive, sister, the Viaticum of the Body of our Lord Jesus Christ; and may He keep you from the malignant foe, and bring you to life everlasting. Amen.” He placed a tiny piece of the Blessed Sacrament in her mouth.
She whispered “Amen,” and struggled to swallow it. Her foggy brain cleared enough for her to understand what was happening. The prayers of the Last Rites were being said for her. But why did he call me Eve? It occurred to her that she should probably pay attention, but the people sounded so far away. She could no longer hear them properly, so she would rest instead.
She was on the bluff again. Thank God, she could go home. If she got home soon Eoin wouldn’t know she had left. She walked and walked and yet she didn’t seem to get closer. The sun was hot and she was growing tired but she kept walking. She saw Fiona on the bluff ahead of her and waved. Fiona called to her “Go back, pet, he needs ye.”
“Nay, he doesn’t Fiona. The lad’s fine now. I’m hot and I’m tired. I want to go home.”
Fiona drew closer; at least she thought it was Fiona. “Not yet. Go back, he needs ye.”
Anna was getting angry now. “Nay, he doesn’t, Fiona. I don’t want to go back. I’m sorry I made Eoin mad, but I want to come home.”
The woman drew closer. It wasn’t Fiona after all. She was just as beautiful but taller and her hair was a lighter brown. “I’m sorry,” Anna told the stranger. “I thought ye were someone else. I need to go home now.”
“Walk with me for a bit first.” The woman took her by the elbow, walking away from Naomh-dùn.
“But my home is the other way. I don’t belong here.”
“Of course ye do. Don’t leave just yet. He needs ye.”
“He doesn’t. I already saved him.” As if in direct response to what she had just said, she heard the lad screaming.
Nay, it couldn’t be. She had already pulled him from the loch and she needed to go home. She heard his terrified cries again. She couldn’t let him drown. Just like the first time, she picked up her skirt and ran towards him. She ran as fast as she could, but she was so hot and tired. How could he have fallen through the ice again? It was much too hot for there to be ice on the loch. The water would feel good now, if only she could find it.
~ * ~
The next time Anna woke she was still terribly hot only now she was drenched in sweat. She pushed at the covers; why were they so heavy? She thought she would suffocate if she didn’t get out from under them. The old woman was at her side immediately. Her hands felt blessedly cool on Anna’s face. “Saints be praised, her fever is breaking.”
Soon there were other women there too. They bathed the perspiration from her and changed the linens. The old woman put a cup to her lips, “Drink some for me, pet.” Anna tried—the cool water tasted good—but it hurt to swallow and she was so tired.
~ * ~
Anna opened her eyes to late morning sun filling the room. She didn’t suffer the stabbing headache she had before and she no longer felt the flames of hell licking at her. However, everything still hurt. She felt too weak to lift her hand from the bed. The strong but gentle older woman she had seen before touched her face and smiled. “I think ye’ve fought off the fever, lass. My name is Isla, I’ve been taking care of ye. For a while I was worried we’d lose ye. We even called Father Ninian, but thanks be to God, the fever seems to be gone. Now we need to make ye stronger. If I hold ye up, can ye take a few sips of broth for me?”
Anna closed her eyes and turned her head away. She was in hell after all. She was still at Curacridhe in the hands of the MacLeods who planned to kill her, or worse, for something she didn’t do.
“Nay lass, don’t slip away from me.”
The woman slid her arm under Anna’s shoulders, lifting her into a semi sitting position before putting a cup to her lips.
“Here, ye must drink this.”
“Please leave me be,” Anna whispered.
“I can’t do that, Eve. Be a good lass now and drink this.”
Who is Eve? Then she remembered the lie she’d told to the MacLeod. She had never been in such a desperate situation. Even if the MacLeod didn’t kill her, she would only have to face her brother and at the moment she wasn’t sure which would be worse. Again she turned her head away.
The woman holding her gave her a little shake and said in a firmer voice, “Nay, lass. Ye must drink this. Don’t make me force it down ye.” She put the cup to Anna’s lips again and tipped it into her mouth. Having no other option, Anna swallowed.
“That’s not so hard now, is it?” The woman’s voice was gentle again. “Have a bit more.”
Anna didn’t have the energy to fight so she swallowed the warm liquid a little at a time. When the woman was satisfied that she had had enough, she lowered Anna back onto the pillows. The tears welled in her eyes and she couldn’t keep them from spilling down her cheeks.
“Oh, little lamb,” the old woman crooned as she brushed the tears away. “Don’t cry. Ye’ll be all right.”
Anna clenched her eyes shut and turned her head away from the woman’s touch. She wanted to tell Isla that she knew very well she wouldn’t be “all right” but she just didn’t have the strength.
~ * ~
The lass’s fever had raged for over three days before breaking but even then, things didn’t get much better. Two days later, after the evening meal, Andrew and Dougal spoke with an anxious Isla outside of Eve’s room. “After the fever broke, I was optimistic that she would recover, but she fights me a
t every turn. I try to get her to take some broth every time she wakes but I have to force her to drink it. And then when I’ve managed to get some into her, the lamb turns her head and cries. It tears at my heart to see her so frail and frightened, but nothing I say seems to console her.”
“I suppose that’s understandable after the way we treated her,” admitted Laird MacLeod. “Is there anything else ye can do?”
“I just need to keep trying. She’s not getting any worse and in truth she may be marginally stronger.”
“Isla, ye can’t keep this up around the clock. Ye look ready to drop under the strain yerself,” observed Dougal.
“I won’t leave her, Laird. She saved Davy and she isn’t nearly out of the woods.”
“But ye need to rest, Isla,” said Andrew. “We can have a pallet put in there for ye and have others sit with her while ye sleep.”
“Nay. I don’t want just anyone with her. It takes a firm hand to get her to drink every time she wakes. Otherwise she just closes her eyes and turns her head.”
“Then I’ll sit with her tonight,” offered Andrew.
Exhausted, Isla conceded and Andrew watched over his son’s “angel” while Isla lay sleeping on her pallet.
As he watched the lass sleeping he thought again of his wife. Joan was a Sinclair and their fathers arranged their marriage to put an end to a feud the Sinclairs had started years ago. Nevertheless, it was a good marriage and Andrew grew to love her. She was tall and slender with dark chestnut hair, rosy cheeks and blue eyes that sparkled when she laughed. David was her miniature in every way, so much so that it hurt to look at him.
Davy’s angel, lying motionless in the bed, did not remotely resemble his Joan. She was a wisp of a lass and her red hair glinted like copper in the firelight. A smattering of freckles stood out in relief on her unnaturally pale skin, and the only thing he had ever seen reflected in her green eyes was abject terror.
Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses Page 145