The next fortnight was merely a blur to Alex. His brothers had returned with Siùsan who seemed much more enamored with his older brother, Callum, than when she ran off. They had come to some type of truce before they returned to the castle. He was aware that life was being lived beyond his door and that he was missing much of it, but he could not tear himself away. He found that his feelings were often conflicted these days. One moment he regretted alienating his family and ignoring his other responsibilities, and in the next moment, he felt completely justified in staying in his chambers to tend to his ward. Sometime after the first day, he had come to think of her like that because he could not think of a better word. He felt a need and duty to protect her that compelled him to stay by her side. If anyone asked him to describe his idea of a ward only a fortnight ago, he would have said a young child or an old widow. The woman who lay still unconscious in his bed was certainly neither of those.
The fever raged for nearly a full fortnight before breaking. Then it often came back at night. Ice baths, cold compresses, and willow bark tea barely put a dent in the fire that latched onto a body that seemed to be fading away more and more each day. Alex had seen for himself that Brighde was already exceedingly slim when she arrived, but after two sennights of being bedridden, she was painfully thin. The healer gave her as much beef broth as Brighde could manage, but there was little more that could be given to her without her casting up her accounts. Even watery porridge came right back up. Milky mashed potatoes worked the first two times it was given to her, and then it, too, began to come back up almost as soon as it was fed to her. Elspeth had even sent up blancmange hoping that its smooth consistency would stay down, and its sweetness would revive her a bit. Nothing worked. Alexander stood or sat helplessly watching her shrink before his eyes.
Brighde mumbled often in her delirium, but her words were never intelligible. She thrashed about when in the throes of her fever. Sometimes it appeared that she was trying to escape from an unseen foe, and other times she was fighting against some invisible enemy. It was during those times that Alexander truly feared what he might learn once she awoke. Her moans were ones of pure anguish, and Alex felt more and more useless by the day. The best that he could do was to keep cool compresses on her head when her fever spiked and spoon Aileen’s concoctions into her. The tinctures progressed beyond willow bark tea. To relieve the pain that was obvious whenever Brighde moved and to fight the fever, Aileen made a mixture of henbane, mandrake, hops, and cloves. She refused to even consider using wolf’s bane or nightshade since Brighde lost so much weight so quickly. Aileen was not convinced that there was a small enough dose of either that would still be safe. For the wounds on Brighde’s feet, salves of yarrow and wormwood were made and applied multiple times throughout the day and night. She used honey to bind the ingredients and to draw out the puss from the infected cuts. Honey was also liberally used to help the tinctures go down.
Aileen ordered ice baths be brought up to Alex’s chambers every night in preparation for the inevitable onslaught of fever. While Alex stepped out of the room multiple times a day to allow Aileen and the other women to tend to Brighde’s more private needs, he remained to assist with moving her in and out of the tub. He tried his best to avert his eyes when he lifted her from the tub. The white chemises that were lent to her became barely more than gauze once they were wet. They left nothing to the imagination. As a healthy and warm-blooded man, he caught himself more than once looking where he knew he should not. Guilt for taking advantage of his ward when she could do nothing to defend herself made him sick and brought on a self-loathing he had never felt before.
During these first two sennights, Alexander ate little and only left his chambers when he absolutely had to. It was only at his new sister’s-by-marriage insistence that he went onto the wall walk at least twice a day for some sunshine and fresh air. It was Siùsan’s steadfast agreement to not leave the room until he returned that convinced him to go. She swore that she would only leave if it was to find him if anything changed. The stress and strain were beginning to take their toll on him.
After the first fortnight passed, there were moments when her eyes flashed open, and she seemed to look around, but her eyes were still fever hazed, and she never said anything. She drifted back to sleep almost as abruptly as she awoke. These glimpses of hope that were then dashed when she slipped back into unconsciousness were the hardest moments that Alex could ever remember. The false sense of hope that they gave was brutally ripped away when it was days between these wakeful moments.
Alexander barely noticed that his brothers were planning another journey with Siùsan. It barely registered that this meant the only other caretaker that he trusted besides Hagatha and Aileen would no longer be able to help. Nothing that did not pertain to the ill woman in his bed seemed to permeate his mind.
Nearly a month had passed since his unexpected guest’s arrival when he was summoned to his father’s solar. He was wary of leaving Brighde and what he would hear once he was there. He was in no mood to hear any more teasing about his infatuation, obsession, inexplicable drive to be near his mystery guest, or whatever it was that he felt. However, he knew it would be far worse if he did not make an appearance.
Alexander entered the solar with a scowl on his face that made even his brothers take a step back. Alex might have tended to seem withdrawn at times, but that was generally because he was observing and assessing his surroundings before making any decisions or taking any actions. His mood now was entirely different. It was withdrawn and defensive. An aura of frustration and anger exuded from him, and there was a restlessness that his family had never seen before.
“I’d like the four of ye to travel with Siùsan and at least half a score of guards. I dinna want to take any chances with another attack.”
Alex was having a hard time following his father’s words. An attack? Och, Christ on the cross! How could I forget that Callum and the others were ambushed while returning with his little runaway bride? Wait. He wants the four of us. Like bluidy hell, I’m going anywhere.
Alex was only vaguely aware of the conversation continuing around him until all eyes seemed to be on him. He only then noticed that his hands kept fisting and unfisting. I canna deny Da, but I sure as shite am not leaving here. Alex could feel his temper rising the longer they all stood about especially with four sets of eyes staring at him.
“Da, ye ken I am the only one here that she really kens. With Siùsan leaving, there is nay body else to care for her. I dinna want her frightened when she awakes if I turn up gone and she feels trapped in an unfamiliar keep with an unfamiliar clan.” Alex stared at his father and held his breath.
“Ye can stay.”
Those three words felt like a punch in the gut and a hug all at the same time. He had been prepared to launch into an argument with anyone who would listen, so to hear his father so readily agree with him nearly stole the breath from his lungs. Somewhere in the background, he could hear Tavish speaking. It was the next words from his father that finally registered.
“I ken now that he’s serious enough aboot the lass to put up and argument against leaving her somewhere unknown. I ken more from watching him than from his words.”
Alex was the last to leave his father’s solar. He regretted the feelings of anger and the temptation to deny his father. He knew that if ordered, he would have refused his father for the first time in his life. This realization was confusing and disconcerting. The woman had barely said more than ten words to him, and yet he was willing to put aside his duties to his family for her.
“Son, dinna fash over wanting to stay here. I kenned how ye felt before I said aught, but I wanted to be sure. What I dinna ken is why ye feel so strongly.”
“Da, I honestly canna say. She was so desperate to reach us, and when I went out to meet her by the gate, something about her took ma breath away. She was clearly beautiful even in such a bedraggled state, but it was more than that. The determination and helplessness
should not have gone together, but I could feel them. Having seen the extent of her injuries, I feel a mixture of savage rage towards whoever did this to her, regret that I did not ken her to protect and prevent this, and an overwhelming admiration and respect for the willpower she needed to survive. I dinna ken how else to describe it. I feel so useless. Besides when Mama got sick, this is the only time in my life where neither reason nor brute force can solve the problem. I canna will her better. I canna fight the imaginary demons that she battles. I was the only Sinclair that she met, and the last face she’s seen in almost a moon. I dinna want one of these times she awakes to be the one time she understands what is happening and nae have anyone she might recognize be there.”
“Ye dinna need to explain any more to me, Alex. I understand more than ye realize. I dinna think many people remember, but yer Mama fell ill within sennights of our wedding. Ye ken that ours was an arranged marriage, and we had only gotten to ken each other for a brief time before we wed. Something drew me to yer Mama during those few short weeks, and I was beguiled by her during our wedding, but we didna have much chance to be married before she became gravely ill. I thought I was going to lose ma wife before I even had a chance to completely get to ken her. I was just as ye are. No one could convince me to leave her side. Everyone thought I was just a young and devoted husband. That I was enamored with her because of her beauty and whatever we may have done in our chamber. But that had absolutely naught to do with it. Aye, yer Mama was to this day the bonniest woman I have ever seen, but it was something more that drew me in. It was more of what I kenned she must have endured while with her own clan. Her father, the old Sutherland laird, was a hard and unforgiving mon. He wasna kind or patient with anyone. I saw the scars yer mama tried to hide. I saw the fading bruises that she thought had healed. I kenned she must have survived much before she arrived here. I admired her strength and grace because she survived her father’s beatings, her brothers’ taunting, her mother’s willingness to overlook what befell ma Kyla, and was still kind and big-hearted to all those who were around her. The good Lord works in ways we may never understand, and sometimes He brings people to us without an obvious explanation. I think this woman may vera well be yer Kyla, lad. If she is, then I pray ye have a long and happy life together. But just be prepared, son. She might nae recognize ye or remember ye. She might nae be as eager to form an attachment as ye are. Ye must be prepared to give her space.”
“Aye, Da. I didna ken all of that aboot ye and Mama. It makes sense though. I will take yer words to heart.”
Chapter Three
How am I so hot again? Will I never get away from this fire? I canna see the flames, but they are eating me alive. Where is it coming from? Why willna anyone move me away from it? Dinna they hear me? I canna scream any louder.
The pleas for help rattled around in Brighde’s head but never escaped her mouth. The intense pain that seemed to just seep throughout her body was more than she could bear most of the time. The blackness that engulfed her over and over was the only relief.
Holy witch’s tits, that’s bluidy cold! What is happening to me? I didna see a loch nearby, so how could I have fallen into one? If I could just open ma eyes. If I could just see through this infernal darkness. Hasnae that storm ended yet? I must make it to the Sinclairs. They can help me. But what if they dinna want to? What then? Where do I go if they willna take me in? So many questions. I just need to rest. More sleep is all I need.
Brighde thrashed about trying over and over again to climb out of the frozen loch she must surely have fallen into. Her mind could not resolve the freezing water to the summer storm she last remembered.
I must eat. I am starving. How long has it been since I last ate? Berries. Berries the day before the last storm. I ate some of those. Perhaps they didna agree with me, and that is why ma mind plays such tricks on me. Mayhap they were those berries that Mama warned me about. The ones that would make me see hobgoblins and wraiths. There are nay such things as ghosts and ghouls. It must have been the berries. They’ve left such a bitter taste in ma mouth. I canna find anything to drink to rinse them away. Why do they sometimes taste like potatoes?
Brighde was so hungry that she was sure that her belly was slowly eating her from the inside out just so she could stay alive. Her thirst overwhelmed her to the point where she once again welcomed the dark to escape one more source of discomfort.
Where is that light coming from? Where are the people I can hear? That mon’s voice is so familiar. I canna place where I ken it from. I ken he isnae from ma clan. I ken I havenae heard the voice often, but it is so clear to me. I can hear him so often, but I canna seem to remember what he says. Why canna I answer him? Do I answer him, but he doesnae hear me?
Time and again, Brighde thought she recognized the voice, and she even thought it might belong to that handsome angel she saw just before she passed through the earthly veil. After all, she asked herself over and over, where else could she be where she could hear voices and sense people nearby but could not see anyone. She had always imagined heaven to be much brighter. The darkness made her wonder if her sins had sent her to purgatory or hell instead of heaven to be with her mama and grandmama.
How much longer must I wander in the dark? Even Jesus had light when he was in the desert. Have I been here for forty days and forty nights? Is this God’s test of ma faith? I havenae forsaken ye, oh Lord, I just dinna obey ma earthly father. If I agree to ma father’s demands, will that be enough, Lord? Heavenly Father, please dinna make me. Please, isnae there aught else I can do? There’s that voice again. God, is this mon speaking to me? Why can I hear him, but he canna hear me? I answer him every time, but he talks over me as though he doesnae ken I’m talking. He doesnae answer ma questions even though I answer his.
Brighde’s mind rebelled against the darkness that enveloped her day after day, night after night. Her mind knew that much time had passed, but she could not begin to reason just how long. She felt herself running towards the light that always seemed to vanish just as she reached it. At other times, she felt like she was walking with a veil over her head that was too thick to see through. The people around her could see her, but she could not see them. Her body felt like a led weight. As hard as she tried to lift her arms, they never seemed to cooperate. She could not fight the frustration, anger, and fear that seemed to progressively suffocate her. Just when she thought she could take no more, she began to see people when she reached the light.
I see them! I think they can see me too. They speak to me, but why dinna they listen to me when I talk. They keep asking me the same questions but dinna listen when I answer. This is so exhausting. I canna keep ma eyes open for long. Ma body aches everywhere, but at least I dinna feel on fire as often anymore. That is one small relief. Mayhap tomorrow I will keep ma eyes open for just a moment longer. Mayhap tomorrow I will talk just a little louder.
This semi-aware state persisted for a fortnight. During this time, Brighde found she was able to see a little more each time she opened her eyes. Her thoughts came to her faster, and it did not feel like her mind was mixed with pea soup. But no one ever seemed to listen to her. Brighde was surprised that these angels wore the same clothes as she had before she died. She thought they might all wear white robes. She was pleased that these celestial beings spoke the same language as she did, but she wondered if she was talking tongues, just like the Bible story.
Mayhap that is why they dinna understand me. Mayhap they speak in tongues, and I can understand them just as the apostles and disciples understood one another. But that doesnae make any sense. If I can understand them, they should be able to understand ma tongue. Pentecost would surely explain the never-ending, infernal heat. Or mayhap those really were the flames of hell. Purgatory. I truly am dead and caught between heaven and hell. That is the only answer.
~~~
Alex’s hand twitched. As he slowly came awake, he thought it was a fly that landed on his hand, and in his sleep, he shooed it away. E
xcept it was not his hand twitching. It was the feel of someone squeezing it ever so softly. With this realization, Alex came fully awake. He looked up to see a pair of light grey eyes staring at him. They were so light that they looked almost translucent and silver. He had seen these eyes several times before, but now they were not clouded by fever and pain. He looked down at his own hand that held such a frail and tiny one. He felt the light pressure once again. He shook his head in disbelief. She was awake. More than that, this mysterious woman who had spent nearly a moon unconscious in his bed was trying to tell him something. Something that he could actually make out as words rather than just sounds.
“Water,” was what he heard whispered. Once again, he looked down at their joined hands. Sometime during her first sennight there, he had made a habit of holding her hand while they slept. He sat in the chair next to the bed and rested his head on the mattress. He held her hand and could feel when she became agitated from fever. It was this habit that made him aware that she was finally conscious.
“Aye. Just a moment, lass.”
Alexander let go of her hand to reach for the cup that was always beside the bed. He reached over and gently lifted her head from the pillow as he brought the cup to her lips. He slowly tilted it to her, but after only a sip, he began to pull away. Her tiny hand grasped his with a surprising strength as she tried to press the cup back to her mouth.
“Nay, lass. I ken ye must be dying of thirst, but too much too fast after so long will only make ye sick again.”
“How can I be so thirsty when I am dead?” Her voice was so hoarse from a month of disuse that she did not recognize the croaking sound she made.
“Aingeal, ye are nae dead.” Alex could not help the small smile that played around the corners of his mouth. He had never felt such relief as he did now that he was having a conversation with the person who filled his every waking and most of his sleeping moments for the past moon.
His Highland Prize (The Clan Sinclair Book 3) Page 3