The Dreamer

by Greyson, Maeve

  Tears welled in her eyes, making them glisten in the candlelight. She cradled his cheek in one hand, her thumb tickling along his jawline. “Ye rescued me from my dark loneliness. Ye are my light.”

  “Mama?” A gentle peck at the door broke the lovely spell.

  Ian dropped his chin to his chest and laughed. Such was a life with bairns, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Come in, Evander,” Gretna called out, pulling the covers higher.

  The door creaked open. Evander, followed by Rory, then Finn, made their way into the room. The lads looked as though they’d done something they shouldn’t have and were about to confess it.

  “Mam Hattie said to fetch ye for Master Fergus down at the miller. Said he’s feeling poorly,” Evander reported with a half-hearted shrug.

  “She said Master Hugh said he’d pay double ’cause he’s so worried about his brother,” Rory added quietly.

  Before Gretna could answer or rise from the bed, Ian held up a hand to still them all. “Find Flora and tell her. Yer mother has done enough today and willna be doing a single thing more other than staying abed. She needs her rest.”

  “But Mam Hattie said—” Rory started.

  “I dinna care if Saint Peter himself needs a tonic, yer mother’s not leaving this bed!” Ian stood and herded them back out the door. “Now, find Flora as I told ye, then ask Cook to give ye supper. Once ye’ve eaten, get back here with yer faces washed and yerselves readied for bed, ye ken?” He pointed at them. “Dinna make me come hunting ye.”

  “I told Mam Hattie that Mama was doing too much,” Evander defended. “But she set to fussing and wouldna hush until we promised to tell her anyway.”

  “Ye leave Mam Hattie to me,” Ian advised. He halted the three of them out in the hall. “Now, I want ye to heed what I’m about to tell ye, aye?” He waited for all three to nod. “Alexander, Magnus, and I must leave at dawn to attempt a treaty to stop the feud. I need the three of ye to watch over yer mother and do yer best to make sure she doesna do too much.” It was a tall order, but Gretna needed more than just Sutherland attempting to tether her and make her rest. She’d listen to her sons quicker than she’d listen to anyone, and these three were just as sly as she was. “Shield her any way ye can.” He squeezed Evander’s shoulder. “Any way ye have to,” he repeated. “Do ye understand what I’m saying?”

  Evander lifted his chin. “Aye. We’ll take care of her. I swear it.”

  “If ye need anything, go to Sutherland. He’s promised to watch over ye.” Ian waited for three more nods before he continued. “The keep will be on complete lockdown while we’re gone.”

  All three boys groaned.

  “No village and no caves?” Rory complained. “What are we supposed to do all day?”

  Ian glanced around, then leaned in close. “Until I return, ye have my permission to start up yer rat races again, but dinna let yer mother find out, and mind well who ye let in on the betting. I’ll tell Sutherland it’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to help ye.”

  All three boys lit up, even quiet Finn. “Can we start tonight?” Evander asked, scrubbing his hands together.

  “Nay.” Ian pointed them toward the stairs. “Tonight, do as I’ve told ye. Ye can revive yer wee business tomorrow, aye?”

  The trio responded with a chorus of hearty ayes, then stormed down the steps.

  Hands on his hips, Ian watched them disappear, listening to their controlled chaos as they clattered down the stairs. Now, he had to tell Gretna. He prayed she’d take the news as well as the lads, but doubted that would happen. He returned to her bedside, half-hoping she’d fallen back to sleep. Unfortunately, she hadn’t.

  “And what did ye promise them if they behaved?” she asked as she settled more comfortably into her pillows.

  “Why would ye ask such?” How the hell did she always know? Ian assumed an innocent facade.

  “I heard the glee in their shouts clear in here,” she explained. “They sounded as though they had just made a fine deal with the devil.” She shifted higher in the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  Ian sat on the bed beside her after sending up a quick prayer for wisdom. “I merely told them the same thing I was about to tell ye before they interrupted us.”

  “Which was?”

  “Angus Neal has requested we meet him at Kilchurn to discuss an agreement to stop the clan war. Alexander and I leave at dawn. Magnus and a small detachment of our best guards shall accompany us.” He braced himself, resigned to the fact that no matter how he worded the news, it wouldn’t be received well. “Graham and Sutherland will be here, overlooking an increased guard and a tighter lockdown of the keep.

  Gretna glared at him. Even in the dim lighting, he could tell the color rode high on her cheeks. “Explain to me why ye’re going rather than Graham. He’s clan war chief.”

  He scooped up her hand and held it. “My presence was requested.”

  “By who?”

  Ian could tell by the way she said the words, she already knew the answer. “We are to meet with Angus Neal.”

  “And Colin, I suppose?” She pulled her hand out of his.

  “I dinna ken if Colin will be there or not.” And he didn’t. Sutherland hadn’t said. But he wasn’t a fool, and neither was Gretna. “But I feel certain he might be—as well as Catriona’s younger brothers, Murray and Dougal.”

  Her gaze lowered to her tightly clasped hands in her lap. “I dinna want ye to go,” she said quietly without lifting her head.

  “Ye know I must.”

  “Why?” Her troubled look jerked upward, her eyes locking with his. “Alexander and Magnus can manage without ye. Graham could go along if ye stayed here.”

  “If I dinna go, at the very least, Angus could cancel the talks, at the worst, he could attack Alexander.” He rested a hand atop hers. “What has been asked of me is no different than the trials that are asked of ye when ye’re called to rise from yer bed no matter the hour, or brave any kind of weather, to see to those in need of healing. The risk is the same.”

  “It is not the same! I dinna risk attack or some such trap lying in wait for me upon my enemy’s threshold.”

  “Be that as it may, I must go.” He bent and kissed her fingers. “If this is a chance to reach an accord and stop the feuding, we must take it—for the sake of the people.”

  Her face crumpled as she bowed her head again. “I know the sense of it, but ye’re filling my heart with fear.”

  He pulled her into his arms and held her, swaying from side to side as though she were a weeping bairn. “I know, love,” he whispered with a kiss to the top of her head. “That same fear, the fear for yer safety and that of the boys’, fills my heart, too.” He hugged her tighter. “I know how ye hate it, but I need ye to stay inside the skirting wall. Please. If anyone in the village needs healing, send Flora. Ye’ve been called on too much of late. I worry for ye.” He closed his eyes as he pressed his cheek to her silky hair. “Will ye do that for me?” Gently, he took hold of her shoulders and eased her away so he could look into her eyes. “Ye said yerself, Flora’s training up well. Should the need come, let her prove herself, aye?”

  After a long pause, she nodded. “I promise to let Flora do more.” She lifted her chin. “But I demand a word from ye as well.”

  Ian waited, already knowing what she was about to say.

  “Promise ye’ll nay be the fool who rushes headlong into danger. Be a wise warrior. Braw and canny. Dinna be afraid to retreat when it would be wise to do so, aye?”

  “Aye, m’love. I promise.” He sealed the oath with a kiss, tasting her fear as strongly as his own.

  “I need ye,” she said in an urgent whisper against his mouth. “I need the feel of ye to give me strength.” Her fingers flew down the front of his waistcoat, undoing the buttons.

  He stilled her hands, then kissed them. “Ye’re so weary, love. Are ye certain it wouldna be ill for yersel
f or the babe?” No matter how fiercely he wanted her, he’d do nothing to endanger either one of them.

  “It willna hurt either of us,” she promised as she slipped her chemise over her head and tossed it on the bed. With a sad smile, she framed his face in her hands. “Nothing could make me too weary for loving ye. Absolutely nothing.”

  That’s all he needed to hear. He settled into her embrace, determined to think of nothing but the precious woman in his arms. Tomorrow’s worries and fears could just be damned.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gretna looked out the window as she placed the wooden bowls of herbs on her worktable. At least the rain had let up, and the sun was peeping through the clouds. Maybe she’d find time for a walk later once she’d finished her tasks. Perhaps the sun on her face would tamp down her worries and ease the feeling that something ill was afoot.

  She’d taken refuge in the chamber located off the main kitchen, the room where she often saw to those in need of her healing skills. Bundles of dried roots and plants hung from the rafters. Shelves filled one wall, loaded down with crocks, jars, baskets, and bundles. A small cot was ready if needed. A long table, sturdy enough to hold a full-grown man, sat in the middle of the room. Catriona had even had Alexander provide her with a small desk, parchments, books, ink, and quills. Gretna was determined to record everything she knew in her journals. When the time came to pass on her responsibilities to the next clan healer, there would be written references to help them.

  “All will be well, mistress. Mark my words.”

  Dear Flora. What would she do without that girl? Gretna could never remember Flora Stewart without a smile or an encouraging word. Strong, big-boned, and a squared jaw as stern as any warrior’s, Flora would’ve made a handsome man. But the Almighty had seen fit to make her a woman, and the lass was a burst of sunshine to all she met.

  “I hope so, Flora.” Gretna added more dried lavender to the mortar and leaned into the pestle, grinding the leaves with all the anxiousness flowing through her. She’d almost sobbed when Ian had ridden away. He’d sworn they wouldn’t be gone long. Three days. Five at the most. She didn’t care. Until she saw him safe again, she wouldn’t rest easy.

  The babe within her stirred, the movements still a delicate fluttering, but there just the same. She straightened and pressed a hand to her middle, treasuring the miracle of new life.

  “Are ye unwell, mistress?” Flora paused in her folding of linens. “Sit and rest. I can grind the herbs whilst ye look on to make sure I do them proper.”

  “I’m fine.” Gretna forced a smile. “Dinna fret about me. The good Lord made me for birthin’ bairns. I always have an easy time of it.”

  “As ye wish.” Flora placed the linens in a covered basket and turned back to the rack of boiled strips of cloth drying by the small brazier in the corner.

  “And ye know as well as I that there’d be no need for me to watch ye work the herbs. Ye’ve come along quite well with yer training.” Gretna didn’t want the lass to think she had no faith in her. In the short time since Flora had started, she’d learned quickly and remembered everything after being told but once. The girl possessed a keen sense of figuring out ailments and more compassion than anyone Gretna had ever met. “I dinna ken what I’d do without ye, lass. Ye’re a blessing.”

  Flora’s perpetual smile beamed even brighter. “Thank ye, mistress. I value such kind words, truly I do.”

  A knock at the door echoed through the chamber.

  “Hold fast, mistress. I’ll see to it.” Flora hurried to the door. “Aye?”

  “I’ve a message for Mistress Gretna.”

  Recognizing the voice, Gretna turned, wiping her hands in her apron. “What is it, Sawny?” She prayed nothing had gone amiss with Jenny or the new babe. “Is it yer sister? The bairn?”

  The braw warrior, tall and manly but still stricken with the freckles and unruly hair of his youth, strode into the room with a wide grin. “Nay, mistress. I saw both her and my new niece last night. Both are hale and hearty.” His smile faded. “Another runner from the village is at the gate. He bids ye come quick. Says this time it’s Mam Hattie calling for ye, and she’s said she’ll see no one but yerself. Said not to send Mistress Flora. The runner said she’s quarrelsome as can be and stricken with a terrible ague. Worse than the others Mistress Flora’s already seen.” He stood taller and resettled his stance. “I told the man to wait so ye could send her a tonic or some such poultice to help whatever ails her. The chieftain and Master Ian were clear. Mistress Flora can see to the village, but ye’re supposed to rest and stay inside the wall.”

  Flora had just returned from the village earlier. She had reported they hadn’t seemed all that sick when she arrived, but all three had sworn they felt poorly. And now Mam Hattie stricken with some sort of ague? That cantankerous old woman hadn’t been ill a day in her life. Gretna prayed this wasn’t the beginnings of some sort of plague. She went to the shelf holding the treatments for aching in the head and fever. She glanced back at Sawny. “Did the messenger say exactly what was troubling her other than her mood? Tell ye any of her other symptoms?”

  He shifted in place, looking as though he wished he was someplace else. With a shrug, he shook his head. “He didna say, and I didna ask him anything else. Sorry.”

  Gretna turned back to the shelves, took up a small leather pouch, and stuffed it with a handful of carefully scraped and trimmed tree bark. The messenger had said ague. That usually meant fever and feeling poorly all over. Willow bark would help an aching head, pain in the bones, and fever… That’s what Flora had given the others as well. Cinching the pouch shut, she handed it to Sawny. “Steep in hot water ’til the water changes color, then one small cup taken only every few hours. Plenty of broth. Plenty of water. Blankets. A good hot fire. Tell the messenger to fetch Mistress Agnes to help Hattie. Those two take care of each other like pups from the same litter.”

  Sawny nodded as he backed out the door. “I’ll tell him everything ye said. Thank ye for not making me lock ye in yer chambers to keep ye inside.” His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes went wide. Sawny always had been one to say more than he should.

  “Lock me in my chambers?” Gretna repeated, halting Sawny as he tried to escape. “Did Master Ian tell ye to do that?”

  He shrugged. “Him and Master Sutherland both—but only if ye tried to go beyond the protection of the wall.”

  “Ye best run while ye can, lad,” Flora called out from the drying rack. “Ye’ve allowed yer mouth to overload yer plate again, and it’s about to spill into yer lap.”

  “Good day to ye both!” Sawny took Flora’s advice and loped down the hallway before Gretna could say another word.

  “Lock me in my chambers.” Gretna shook her head. While the audacity of the order tempted her to defy it, she knew it came from a place of love. Although she couldn’t say that if something dire happened in the village, she wouldn’t go down there, anyway. No one would bother her. The rumors had calmed somewhat since Father William’s blessing with the holy water. If someone truly needed her, she had to go. It was her Christian duty.

  She returned to her worktable and resumed grinding the herbs. A worrisome fidgety-ness filled her. The workroom usually brought her a feeling of surety and peace, but today, especially with Ian’s departure, the place felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. She pushed her tools aside. “Since the rain’s stopped, I’m going outside for a while. I need to move around and breathe. Come with me if ye’d like.”

  Flora smiled and set aside the basket of rolled bandages. “I believe I will.”

  Gretna donned her heavy shawl and arm warmers, leaving her arisaid on the peg by the door. With the sun breaking through the clouds, such attire should be warm enough, especially for a brisk walk through the gardens.

  As they cut through the kitchens to access the rear door leading outside, Gretna spotted Finn and Cook deep in conversation over some sort of bundle the lad held between his hands. The child looked
up at the portly woman with rapt attention, nodding as Cook tapped on the parcel and chattered away. Gretna smiled. Sweet Finn had blossomed under Ian’s care. All her sons had. She almost laughed aloud. Mercy and Catriona had been right. She and Ian had needed one another and hadn’t even known it.

  Scooping up one of the baskets by the door, Gretna settled it in the crook of her elbow. Might as well do a bit of foraging in the gardens. Some tender young greens, just now pushing up through the soil, would be a tasty respite from broth and stewed meat. Flora took a basket, too, and followed along, humming a happy tune under her breath.

  Gretna lifted her face to the sunshine, closed her eyes, and pulled in a deep breath of the cool, crisp air. The world had a fertile earthiness to it after all the rains. It smelled of new life ready to spring forth. She smiled at Flora as they added leafy shoots of cress to their baskets.

  “I wish we could hunt for fiddleheads where the wall joins the mountain.” Her mouth watered at the thought of steaming the delicate green curls and drowning them in butter. “We’ve had enough warm days for them. The ferns should be putting out their new fronds by now. Dinna ye think so?”

  “Aye, they should be sproutin’ good by now.” Flora frowned at the border gardens along the inside of the wall. “I wish they’d thought to transplant some to grow inside the wall. ’Tis shady enough beyond those trees. But they didna, so I guess we best be thankful for the parsley and cress we do have. Looks like quite a bit is in the plot over there. There’s wild garlic along the hedge, too.”

  Now that she’d thought of the fiddleheads, Gretna wanted them badly—craved them in an uncontrollable way. Knowing better than to even attempt it, she watched the guard walking along the top of the wall, surveying the land beyond. “I dinna see why we couldna look for some greens on the mountainside. If we keep close to the wall, the guards can watch over us easy enough. As long as we keep within arrow range, aye? That way, if anyone thought to do us ill, the MacCoinnichs could easily shoot them.”