She watched Liam and Angus as they carried Malcolm away from her, turning reluctantly to help with the many injuries the other men had sustained. She urged Elaine and Lydia to wash the wounds with soap and to douse them with whiskey. After each wound had been tended, she liberally applied her Neosporin.
“My lady, here’s the broth ye asked for.” Molly came into the great hall, carrying a steaming earthenware bowl on a wooden tray.
Alethia took it from her, glad to have a reason to go to Malcolm. “Thank you, Molly. Elaine, do you know where Hunter is?”
“Aye, he finished unloading your…er…he finished a chore for you, and I sent him to the kitchen to be fed, and then he’s to go on to bed.”
Their eyes met for a brief instant of understanding. She nodded. “Lydia, may we go to Malcolm now?”
“Aye, go. I will finish here.”
Malcolm awoke to the sound of snoring. Disoriented, he struggled to recall where he was and what had happened. The left side of his body burned like the devil, and his head throbbed with each pulse of his heart. A single candle in a stand next to his bed illuminated his surroundings. He lay in his own chamber. Vague recollections came back to him. He remembered being roused, held up to sitting while True poured broth down his throat. “God’s blood, I’m thirsty,” he croaked.
Who gripped his hand?
He turned his head slightly, seeking the source of the snoring. His heart melted at the sight. True sat in a chair by his bed, holding onto his hand with both of her own. She’d fallen forward, her head on the mattress and her neck at an awkward angle. ’Twould pain her on the morrow. He smiled. His woman snored.
Malcolm knew he should wake her and send her off to her chamber to rest. ’Twas not proper for her to be here in the middle of the night, but he hadn’t the will to part with her.
Bare beneath the covers, he wondered who had removed his garments. He’d been bathed as well. Had True cared for him as a wife would her husband? He imagined her washing his battered body with tender care.
Another vague recollection came to him. He’d fought to remain awake until he’d seen her worried face hovering above him in his own keep. Once he knew True stood by his side, he’d succumbed to the blackness, certain all would be well.
Malcolm lifted his head to glance down at his injured arm. He couldn’t help the snort of amusement from escaping. Checking to see she’d not been disturbed by the sound, he put his head back on the pillow and grinned into the candlelit shadows. The stitched skin now resembled his lady’s most recent embroidery project. Crimson, white, and the darkest green threads formed a feathery pattern down the length of the wound. MacKintosh colors. God’s blood, ’twas good to be home.
Nay. He would not wake her. Disentangling his hand from her grip, Malcolm pushed himself up to a sitting position, going still until the dizziness and nausea passed. He swung his feet to the floor and looked about his chamber. Spying two covered bowls on the table near his bed, thirst overcame him. He reached for the nearest, finding it held more of the broth True had fed him earlier. He drank it all and reached for the next. He inhaled. ’Twas a tea made from rose hips, chamomile and other herbs he did not recognize, and sweetened with honey. He downed the entire bowl. His thirst slaked for the moment, Malcolm set himself to the task of transferring True to his bed.
He pushed himself to stand, fighting the pain and dizziness. Nausea assailed him again. Using his bedstead for support, he worked his way around to her side. He hoped to God she’d stitched him well, for what he was about to do might very well reopen the wound. Squatting next to her, Malcolm put his arms under her knees and eased her back until he could put one arm under her neck. Using his legs and the chair to aid him, he leveraged her onto the mattress. Sweat beaded his brow from the pain and effort, and he arranged her as comfortably as possible.
He breathed heavily from the exertion and leaned against a bedpost until he recovered. He reached for furs to cover her, then worked his way back to his side of the mattress, sliding gratefully back between the linens. With his good arm, he tucked her against his side. Content at last, his head fell back onto the pillow, and sleep took him far from the pain.
The sound of his chamber door opening woke him. Malcolm opened his eyes to glance first at the woman asleep beside him, and then to the shocked expressions worn by Liam and Robley. One of True’s legs covered both of his just above his knees. Her arm had found its way around his waist, and her head rested upon his good shoulder. Possessively, he reached down to cover her exposed calf, and he scowled at his cousins, chagrined. What had seemed a good idea in the dark of night, in the light of day proved to be folly.
Liam cleared his throat. Robley stared openmouthed, and Malcolm nodded toward the door. Thankfully, Liam grasped his meaning, crossing the room to shut it. Malcolm gently shook his sleeping beauty. True stretched and yawned, opening her eyes in the process.
Malcolm could clearly see the confusion in her eyes as she sat up and looked down at him. “How did I come to be in your bed?”
“Och, lass. You canna seem to keep your hands off me.” He grinned as her eyes grew wide. Robley coughed, no doubt in an effort to contain his laughter, drawing True’s attention to the fact that they were not alone. Malcolm watched as a delightful blush colored her cheeks. Without speaking, she reached out to feel his forehead. Removing her hand, she rose from the bed with dignity, straightened her gown and stood with her back straight.
“There is no fever,” she proclaimed. “Please inform Malcolm that I am not speaking to him.” She graced him with a glare. “He left without telling me.” Lifting her chin, she stomped to the door, threw the latch and slammed it behind her.
He and his cousins stared after her in silence, shocked when she stormed back two seconds later. Circling his bed to the side where she’d sat, she lifted the basket she’d forgotten and left again without a word, refusing to look at any of them.
“True is not talking to you, Malcolm,” Robley informed him through his laughter. “She’ll share your bed, but dinna expect conversation.”
Liam cleared his throat again. “Malcolm, I must ask. What do you intend to do about our Lady True?”
Malcolm closed his eyes and rested his aching head against his pillow. “I had intended that we would wed in the spring upon my father’s return. ’Tis clear I canna wait until then. I’ll send to Edinburgh for a priest, though ’tis unlikely we’ll see him arrive before spring with winter fast upon us.”
“Sweeten the offer with a generous tithe,” Liam suggested. “Robley, would you see to dispatching the missive? I need a word with Malcolm in private.”
Something in Liam’s tone alarmed Malcolm. “Before you see to writing the request, have Molly send me a tray to break my fast,” he told Robley. “And ale. Have her send ale. I’ve a powerful thirst.”
Robley closed the door behind him, and Liam raked his hand through his hair, clearly unsure where to begin.
“Dinna waste your breath scolding me, Liam. In my present state, I could do naught but sleep. True’s virtue is safe, and I trow neither you nor Robley will speak of this to anyone.”
Liam shook his head. “That is the least of my worries. Since the day we found her, I’ve kent the two of you would marry.”
“What vexes you then?”
“It started within the keep and has since spread throughout the clan.”
“What has? Is there an illness amongst our people?”
“Nay, no illness.” Liam glanced into his eyes then turned his gaze to the floor. “Our clan is determined to find a suitable husband for True.”
“Aye, myself.” Malcolm shrugged his good shoulder.
“Nay, Malcolm.” Liam sent him a sheepish look and shook his head. “You are no’ on the list the elders have compiled. No’ even at the very end.”
“I’m no’ on what list? She is mine.” Malcolm made to rise, but he gave it up as he listened, dumbstruck, to Liam’s accounting of True’s activities over the past mont
h. He’d been blamed, and rightly so. She had asked him for hides and furs, and he’d neglected to provide them before leaving. Liam described in detail his clan’s loyalty to the foreigner they now viewed as their own.
“How is it she left the island without your knowledge?” he asked once Liam had finished. “I specifically commanded she remain behind the curtain wall.”
“She had help. The weaver’s son lent her a small fishing boat. Cook left her breakfast each morn. Elaine secured needed equipage, and Lydia turned a blind eye, ignoring your wishes. By the time our sentries spied the smoke from her fire, she’d already been at it a se’nnight. I saw no harm in keeping her busy whilst you were away, and I posted guards to keep her safe. I did no’ foresee…that is…I never imagined things would take the turn they have.”
“Think you she’ll go to the mainland today?” Malcolm’s frustration with his own physical weakness sparked his temper.
“I dinna ken. ’Tis unlikely. Surely she’s exhausted this morn.”
“Liam—”
“I mean from tending the wounded.” He grinned.
A knock sounded on his door. “Enter.” His mother came in with a tray of food. The smell of freshly baked bread and meat made Malcolm’s mouth water, and his stomach gave an audible growl. Mayhap he’d feel stronger after he ate.
“True spent the night in your chamber, my lad.”
He groaned. Liam laughed, and Malcolm sent him a quelling glare. “You’ve things to attend to, aye?” Still snorting, his cousin left him to face his mother’s accusations alone.
Malcolm rubbed his temples with both hands; his head throbbed. “True fell asleep. I only saw to her comfort.”
“Rather than wake her and send her off to her own bed where she belonged, you mean?” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Here, drink this.” She handed him a mug from the tray she’d set on his lap. “True sent it up for your headache.” She waited as he took a sip of the bitter brew. “I ken naught happened. All saw the state you were in. We sent True off to bed when it was clear she would soon drop from exhaustion. I suspected she’d make her way back to your chamber. As we tended the wounded, I watched her.”
“She was up to something?” Malcolm swallowed more of the bitter tea and looked at his mother over the top of the mug.
“Och, aye. She bade us wash everyone’s wounds with soap and then insisted we use perfectly good uisge beatha to bathe the wounds again. When she thought none were watching, she took something out of her basket, a salve of some kind, and smeared it over their injuries. I checked this morn. Not one of the injuries she treated thus has festered.”
“Humph.”
“Well, don’t you see? For some unfathomable reason, she’s hiding the concoction. True came back to your chamber late last night while you slept to put the salve on your arm.”
Malcolm rubbed a finger across his skin near the stitches. It came away with a film of something greasy. He rubbed his finger and his thumb together and brought them to his nose. He could detect no scent. “She’s no’ speaking to me.”
“No doubt. She was quite distressed to find you’d left without a word. Liam caught her just before she took one of the villager’s skiffs to follow you. True took to her bed for two days, and it required a good deal of persuasion to roust her. I am certain her distress is why Liam allowed her…um…activities on the mainland to continue.”
“I missed her.” Malcolm had to swallow hard several times.
“I am certain you did, Malcolm. Eat. You must regain your strength quickly.”
“Quickly?”
“Have you no’ heard? You are no’ even on the list of suitable husbands for our True.” She laughed at the sour expression on his face.
“I’ve sent for a priest.”
“’Tis unlikely we’ll see one before spring, and the clan may have her handfasted ere long. Some treasures have naught to do with coin, jewels or land.” His mother gave him an arch look. “Do you ken my meaning?”
“Of course I ken your meaning, Mother. Am I no’ your son? Will she come see me, do you think?”
“Aye. Whilst you sleep. And only to put more salve on your wound.”
“Send Beth to me.” He tore into the meal on his lap.
“As you wish.” His mother patted his knee and rose to leave. “Do put something on before she arrives.” She fetched his robe from the peg where it hung and draped it over his bed.
Clothed and his hunger sated, Malcolm rested his head against his pillow and thought about everything he’d learned this morn. His head had ceased throbbing, no doubt due to the bitter tea his lady had sent. He smiled. She would not speak to him, yet still she saw to his care.
As soon as Beth fetched her for him, he’d beg her forgiveness, hold her close and kiss her sweet lips until she moaned into his mouth. He closed his eyes, allowing the fantasy to unfold behind his eyes.
“Milord, you wished to see me?” Beth opened his door a crack and peered in.
“Aye. Go to your lady and bid her come to me anon. I would speak with her.”
“Aye, my lord.”
She curtsied and shut the door, and he closed his eyes to take up the fantasy where he’d left off. All would be set right soon.
True took far too long responding to his summons. Malcolm became impatient, frustrated and wanted out of his sickbed. A knock sounded on his door. He blew out a breath, relieved she’d arrived at long last. “Enter.”
Beth walked through the door, looking as if she feared the worst. “My lady said I’m to quote her exactly.” She twisted her gown with her hands. “But I dinna ken the word’s meaning, ye see.”
Malcolm let his head fall to his pillow. “It means you are to say her words exactly as she said them.”
“Oh.” Beth’s face smoothed. “Well then.” She took a breath. “Lady True says to tell ye, ‘He’s no’ the bossamee.’” She nodded. “Do ye ken what it means?”
“Aye.” He closed his eyes and massaged his throbbing temples. “I ken what it means.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Using the walls, his bed and anything else within reach for support, Malcolm walked slowly around his chamber to regain his strength. It had been three days since he and his men returned, and he’d had enough of his bed. Since the night True had slept in his arms, he’d not caught even a glimpse of her. Frustration at his weakness ate at him. Her refusal to obey his summons infuriated him, and restlessness, combined with everything else, had him feeling like a caged animal.
It should have been a simple thing—stay awake through the night and catch her when she came with her ointment. But his body betrayed him, and he’d slept through her ministrations to wake with the dawn knowing she’d been there. Her floral scent lingered—had she? Had she held his hand for a moment, or stroked his brow?
His arm itched like the devil. He knew it meant the injury healed well, still ’twas another torture to add to his growing list of complaints. Malcolm snatched his robe from the peg and struggled into it. He wanted a bath and a hearty meal. Both would do much to revive him. Then he intended to go after True and force her to reason.
A knock on his chamber door sent his heart racing. “Enter.” Elaine walked in with a tray. He took a seat by the hearth, exhaling his disappointment on an audible sigh.
“I’m not who you hoped to see.” Elaine smiled as she arranged his breakfast on the table. “Still, I need a word with you.”
“Aye? What revelations will you share this morn, sister mine? I’ve had a belly full of late, and find I suffer indigestion.”
“’Tis about True.” She handed him a mug of the bitter tea for his pain. “There are things I should have told you ere now.”
“If you mean to tell me about her hunting, or that the clan means to marry her off to Robley or Liam, you are too late.” He scowled at her. “I’ve already been told.”
“Nay, Malcolm. ’Tis something True told me during the harvest. She mentioned you and Father believe Giselle drugged her and sent he
r to Scotia by ship.”
“Aye?” He ate his breakfast, curious where Elaine was going with this.
“She told me what really occurred with Madame Giselle. She was no’ drugged or sent here by ship. ’Twas magic that brought her here. She had nothing to eat or drink in the woman’s company.”
“Elaine—”
“Dinna give me that look.” She straightened with a scowl and placed her hands on her hips. “How oft have we heard of some person disappearing, only to return months later with fantastic tales of some foreign land they say they found themselves in?” Her eyes offered a challenge. “Their stories are always the same. They have no inkling how they got there or how they got back. Mayhap this Madame Giselle is fae. I have no reason to doubt True. There’s no reason for her to concoct such a tale, and she seemed loath to share it. ’Twould be far simpler to hold to the version you and Father concocted.”
Malcolm shook his head, considering the possibility. “I will no’ argue. I concede, I’ve heard the stories you speak of.”
“She’s afraid Giselle will take her away from us the same way. True loves you, Malcolm. She fears giving her heart if she’s to be plucked from your side at any moment.”
“She told you this?” He sat up straighter at the first good news he’d heard since his return.
“Aye. She also told me she plans to leave us to become part of a traveling minstrels’ group come spring if Giselle hasna returned her to her home by then.”
“The devil you say.” His brow rose. “Why would she do such a thing?”
“She is frightened of being taken from us and frightened by an uncertain future. Put yourself in her place. True feels she is only a guest here. She worries our hospitality will come to an end. She told me it is time for her to find a way to support herself and Hunter on her own.”
“This is my fault.”
“Aye, ’tis all your fault.” She grinned at him. “Now set it aright.”
“Send someone to fetch Liam for me. Have him meet me in the great hall by Sext.”
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 18