“The weans, Kieran. They need tending. They must have been down there all night. Let go.” Maude struggled to stand, but Kieran shook his head and refused to release her. He didn’t trust his voice as he cast a long look at her before peering at the children. They watched him and Maude with eyes as wide as saucers; the little boy sucked his thumb. Maude pushed against his chest until he loosened his grip enough for them to stand.
“Are ye hungry, little ones?” Maude once more squatted in front of them. They nodded but said nothing. She took each of their hands, careful not to rub blood on the little girl who walked on her wounded side. When they reached the horses, Maude pulled out blankets for the children and wrapped one around each before spreading one on the ground. She pointed for them to sit and moved to another satchel that contained food. Kieran intercepted her and guided her toward the blanket and eased her onto it. He fetched the satchel and pulled cheese, bannocks, apples, and a jug of ale from it. He whispered to the children as he handed them the food, but he never took his eyes off Maude, who rested with her own eyes closed. She yelped with surprise when he lifted her and carried her behind a wall that still stood. The sun was higher in the sky, and he was able to see saw her injuries. He lowered her to her feet and removed the stopper from a jug of whisky. Maude took it from him without a word and placed the opening to her lips, taking a long draw before sucking in a deep breath. The alcohol burned, but she’d had it often enough that she did not splutter. She handed the jug back to Kieran and looked at her arm.
“Don’t take that far away,” she muttered.
“I’m not leaving your side. What happened? One moment you were by the horses and the next I see you running toward the unknown.”
“I heard them crying out for help. I spotted them at the same time I saw the first wildcat. It attacked just as I reached them. I jumped in front of it and shot it, but before it dropped to the ground, it sank its claws into me.” Maude grabbed the rent sleeve and ripped it from the shoulder seam. She dropped the dirty fabric to the ground and twisted to see her ribs. The animal had shredded the tunic there too, so she tore along the side seam to open it. Maude looked in every direction before unlacing the leggings and dropping them to her ankles. Kieran sucked in a breath and uttered several oaths as he turned her toward the sun and examined the damage. She took the jug back and consumed several more gulps before taking a fortifying breath and pouring a steady stream of whisky over her wounds. She grunted from the pain but refused to cry out. She flushed the wounds as best she could until she emptied the jug.
“Waste of bluidy fine whisky,” she grumbled. “Can you fetch some bandages? And there’s a fresh tunic in my bag. Oh, and the plaid. Please.”
She was panting by the time she finished speaking. Despite his hesitation about leaving her, Kieran jogged over to the horses. Maude leaned heavily against the wall and prayed it didn’t collapse beneath her. She gritted her teeth and pulled her tunic over her head before bending to unlace her boots. When the pain had her seeing stars, she decided she would wait for Kieran to assist her. He returned and began unpacking the satchels he brought with him. Maude began winding the bandages he handed her around her thigh and hips. She took another roll and bound her ribs before moving on to her arm and shoulder. She recalled the Egyptian mummies she’d read about when her tutor taught her geography. She swayed on her feet, and Kieran shot up to steady her.
“Can you loosen my boots? I can’t reach them.” Kieran nodded and untied them as she braced her hands on his shoulders. Once they were off, she kicked the leggings loose. “Is there any rope? I didn’t think to ask before you walked away.”
“Aye. We brought plenty. What do you need it for?”
“A belt. I have to wrap the plaid around me, and need to tie something around my middle.”
While Kieran went to retrieve the rope, Maude struggled into the spare tunic and groaned as she kneeled on the ground. She laid out the plaid and pleated it. When Kieran returned, he had the lack of grace to laugh as he realized she intended to wear the breacan feile like he did rather than as an arisaid.
“I suppose it won’t cover your legs otherwise.” He kneeled beside her and slid the rope beneath the material. He helped her to lie down before wrapping one side over the next. The plaid was far too long; rather than end at her knees, it finished at the sole of her feet. He was careful not to rub the material over her hip or thigh. He knew that, despite the bandages, the wool would irritate her skin. He tied a loose knot around her waist before cutting the extra length of rope with his dirk. He moved with slow purpose as Maude took his hand and stood. He draped the extra fabric over her good shoulder and wrapped his arm across her upper back before leading her back to the others. She leaned most of her weight against him, but he noticed she fought not to limp. He guessed Maude worried he would chastise her if she showed weakness. Recrimination was the last thing on his mind; he was too filled with pride and fear.
“You’re the bravest lass I ken. I can’t think of too many men who would’ve done what you did. I’m so very proud of you, buttercup. You saved those weans’ lives.”
Maude rested her head on Kieran’s shoulder as she let him guide her back to the horses. “You’re not angry with me? You don’t regret bringing me?”
“Am I pleased you’ve been injured? Nay. Was I scared witless? Am I still scared? Aye. But I told you, I’m proud of you, Maude. You risked your life for those weans without a moment’s hesitation. I’m not angry. I just thank God you’re alive. I’d ask you not to terrify me like that again, but I know it’s not in your nature to put yourself first. You’ll race into danger if you believe it’ll save someone.”
“You’d do the same. And don’t tell it’s not the same thing because you’re a warrior. I heard those voices and knew they were defenseless. I couldn’t ignore children who needed protecting.”
The men surrounded them and applauded, cutting their conversation short. Maude wanted them to cease since her head ached, but she smiled and offered her thanks. She felt accepted by Kieran’s guards; she just wished the women of their clan would see her worth as easily as the men had.
“Ma lady, is there aught we can do?” A young guard stepped forward.
“Aye. Two things. Carry the weans back with us. And someone give me more whisky. This burns like the bluidy devil.”
Several men turned toward the horses, and moments later jugs and flasks appeared from all sides. Maude reached for a smaller flask and unstopped it. She down the contents of the full container in a few gulps. She wiped the back of her hand across her lips before nodding her head.
“The laird will give ye more,” she rasped. She’d allowed her burr to slip into her voice on purpose when she spoke to the children. She wanted to put them at ease and not sound too posh, but now it remained because she hadn’t the strength to regulate it. She didn’t move from her spot as Kieran and his men continued investigating the remnants of the village. The children she’d rescued had fallen asleep once they’d eaten. Maude watched them and longing crept over her. She wondered if she and Kieran would have children. She prayed it would be soon even though she enjoyed the time alone with him each day, and she knew she had more than enough challenges awaiting her upon her return to the keep. But the notion of creating a new life with Kieran made her ache to carry and bear a child. She chalked her sentimental longing up to an excess of alcohol. She rested for another hour before Kieran called an end to the search for any survivors or evidence to why the attack occurred. He helped her onto Trioblaid despite his protestations, but Maude feared having her side jostled against Kieran even if he tried to be careful.
As the horses galloped back toward Stornoway, Maude swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. The two bannocks she’d eaten on the ride to the village threatened to revisit her, and the whisky sloshed about her stomach. She refused to be ill while she rode, and she would not ask Kieran to stop. She wondered if she would have been better riding in Kieran’s arms after all; he could have h
eld her in place instead of every jarring hoofbeat sending excruciating pain through her side as she rode. It wasn’t long before she broke into a sweat as she tried to control her body. She pushed the extra plaid from her head and shoulder, grasping it and wrapping it loosely around her waist. The crisp morning air helped at first, but it wasn’t long before perspiration was dripping between her breasts and trickling down her spine. She attempted a surreptitious wipe of her brow, but Kieran’s head whipped toward her as soon as she shifted again. He’d observed her rearrange the plaid and now cocked an eyebrow at her, but she forced a smile. When she recognized her surroundings, Maude drew a relieved breath. Her sight had tunneled, and she gripped the reins to keep from tumbling from the saddle. She blinked several times to clear her vision as they barreled down the final hill, but despite her best efforts, everything turned black.
Kieran swerved to catch Maude as she lurched to her far side. He squeezed Peat with his thighs and caught Maude as she fell away from him. His hands cinched around her sides as he plucked her from Trioblaid’s back. When she didn’t make a sound of pain or protest, his pounding heart surely stopped. She was burning with fever as he cradled her and called the riders to a halt. What he assumed were cheeks pinkened by the wind was actually a flush caused by fever. He absorbed the heat radiating from her and forced himself not to panic. She was a veritable inferno. He’d never touched someone so hot, and while her cheeks were darker, the color had leached from her chapped lips.
“Buttercup,” he whispered as fear choked him, but he glanced about for his best rider and called out, “Fetch Eara and bring her to the keep. Tell her Lady MacLeod is ill, and she should bring everything she has that can bring a fever down and fight an infected wound.” The clan’s healer was the oldest person in the village, and Kieran had often wondered as a child if she’d walked with Jesus, she’d seemed so old even then. But so many years as a healer lent her a talent and skill that kept most clan members alive when something ailed them. He prayed the same would be true for Maude.
Kieran pushed Peat to take the last few furlongs until they entered the bailey. He called for Kyle as they passed under the portcullis and handed Maude to him as he dismounted Peat, then scooped her back into his arms and ran toward the keep. Two guards barely managed to open the doors before Kieran hurtled through, yelling for Agatha to get a cool bath to his chambers. He took the stairs two and three at a time until he reached the landing. He spied his mother and sister peeking out from the ladies’ solar, but he had no interest in acknowledging them. He slammed open the door to his chamber and took Maude to the bed, where he began stripping her. He only paused long enough to draw the bed-curtains closed as servants filed in. He saw the blood that seeped through the bandages and watched Maude’s chest rise and fall with ragged, shallow breaths. When the servants left, he unraveled the bandages and had to turn away lest he retch. Maude’s injuries were far worse than he’d believed. The whisky had flushed them of the embedded fabric from when the claws shredded her clothes, and it washed away dust, but it hadn’t done enough. The cuts were deep, and angry, red lines already flaring out from their edges. Infection had taken hold within two hours.
“What happened to the lass?” Agatha asked as she approached the bed.
“She saved those two weans we brought with us when two wildcats attacked. She killed them and protected the weans, but one of them sank its claws into her first. Agatha, she said she was fine. God, what if she isn’t? What if I lose her?” Kieran choked out the last words as tears threatened. Agatha laid her hand on his back and patted him as she had done so many times when he’d been an upset child.
“Get her into the tub, and I’ll clean her wounds, lad.”
Kieran lifted Maude and carried her to the tub, but he insisted that he bathe his wife. He refused the linen square, afraid it would be too abrasive, but Agatha asserted that while Maude was unconscious, the wounds needed a good scrubbing to remove whatever lingered and caused the infection. They worked together and were efficient, so Kieran was holding Maude in his lap before the fire as Agatha combed her hair when Eara, the healer, arrived. Her walking stick clacked on the floor as she moved to the bed and began laying out her tools and remedies. Kieran returned Maude to the bed but lingered beside her.
“Lad, I canna reach her if ye dinna move.” Eara was the second person to call him a lad in the space of one half hour. She and Agatha were the only two who would dare, but it was calming and soothing. He abandoned his efforts to hide his burr when he was with these two women, who had known him as long as his parents had. Both had attended his birth. He trusted these two women above all others to tend to his wife. “Wildcat maul her?”
“Aye. She was protecting two weans from the village that was attacked. She jumped between them and the wildcat. It clawed her as it lunged. She killed it, but nae before it landed on her.”
“They carry something in their claws that causes a fever to people they scratch. Ye did well to get her in a cool bath. The wounds look clean. Does she feel cooler?”
Kieran stepped forward and ran the back of his hand over her forehead and cheeks before nodding and giving Eara his spot beside Maude.
“There isnae much I can do besides pack the wounds and give her willow bark tea to bring down the fever. If the infection worsens, then I must cut away the putrid flesh, but I dinna fear it’ll come to that. Did the lass flush them with whisky before bandaging them?”
“Aye, doused them. Used an entire jug. I dinna ken how she didna faint. It must have burned like the flames of hell, but she barely made a sound.” Kieran couldn’t tear his eyes from how small and helpless Maude looked lying alone in their enormous bed. He’d been so proud of her bravery and stoicism earlier, but now fear threatened to consume him as he blamed himself for her condition.
“Kieran,” Agatha’s hushed tones broke through his haze of guilt. “Ye ken she spoke true. Even if ye hadnae let her ride out with ye, she would have followed. Eara couldnae have made the ride with ye, and it was the right thing to do to take a healer.” The healer grunted her agreement as she crushed yarrow leaves with a pestle and mortar. She added wormwood and chamomile, but paused when she reached for the angelica.
Eara returned to Maude’s side and ran her hands over her belly, poking and pressing as she moved. She shook her head and looked back at Kieran. “I canna use the angelica to help with the fever. It’ll get into her womb, and she might lose the bairn.”
“Bairn?” Kieran gasped. Tremors coursed through him as he stared at Maude.
“Didna ye ken? She’s nearing three moons, I’d say.” Eara gave him a reproachful glare. “A lad yer age and with yer experience didna question why his wife hasnae bled?”
Kieran shook his head. He hadn’t given it much consideration since he’d ridden out for weeklong patrols at least once a moon since they returned to Stornoway. He’d dreaded leaving Maude behind knowing things were a struggle, but as laird, he’d had little choice but to take his turn. She’d never discussed her cycle with him, but he supposed he assumed it had come during one of those sennights.
“I didna think aboot it. I was away for a sennight at a time more than once. I suppose her courses might have come and gone while I was away, but she was never indisposed while I was home.” He chided himself for being so unobservant, but a realization flashed through his mind. “That’s why she’s been nauseous so often. She believed it was from being anxious, but now I dinna think that’s the case. She’s had nay appetite, but she’s struggled for years with what she eats. The vicious things ma mother and sister said to her aboot what she eats reminded her of cruel things she heard when she was growing up and from other ladies-in-waiting. It might have been from the strain she’s been under, but it could also be symptoms of carrying a bairn. But I dinna believe she kens. She wouldnae have kept that from me, and I saw how she looked at the lad and lass this morning. She wants bairns of her own. It was longing, not anticipation. I’d even thought to speak to her, reassure her that
they would come when the Lord is ready and that I’d love her even if we never had any. I ken she’d fear I would set her aside for a woman who could give me an heir.”
Kieran knew he was rambling, but he found speaking kept his mind from dwelling on the image of the wildcat attacking her. He climbed onto his side of the bed before sliding across to lay beside her. He lifted the hand on her uninjured side and cradled it between his much larger ones. Everything about her seemed frail as he brushed the hair from her forehead. He was aware that Agatha and Eara spoke to one another, and he even noticed a servant who brought in boiling water and hooked the pot into the fireplace, but he wasn’t interested in anything but Maude.
“Prop her up so I can spoon the willow bark into her. I dinna want her choking.” Eara ordered, and Kieran was quick to obey. The old woman followed the tea with spoonfuls of plain water before ordering Kieran to let Maude rest. Kieran noticed that Eara had packed and dressed the wounds at some point, but the sight of Maude’s sunken, flushed cheeks and the sweat that continued to roll along her temples monopolized his attention. He pressed the cool compress that Agatha handed him against her brow and wiped it along her temples. And so began the routine that carried them through the rest of the day and into the night. Eara offered Maude medicinals every few hours and sat by the fire sewing and humming while Kieran lay on his side observing Maude for any slight change or movement.
A Wallflower at the Highland Court: A Slow Burn Highlander Romance Page 27