Màiri brushed Niall’s hair flat in a motherly gesture. “At first, she lost her strength so much so that climbing from bed became a struggle. Soon afterwards her appetite disappeared and she lost a great deal of weight until only flesh covered her bones. Her days were full of great pain in her belly and back. Then her belly had swollen so much she looked as though she was with child.”
“Did the doctor do anything?”
“He bled her, covered her frail body with leeches. She took steamy hot herb baths, drank the herbs, ate the herbs, and salved her body in them but they never worked. The leech said her humors weren’t balanced. He told us to pray.”
“What did Duncan say?”
Màiri shook her head. “He wasn’t here. He was off because of that woman.”
What woman? Who was she? And why was he off? Did he love her? Does he still love her? She never demanded answers to the questions raging in her mind. Màiri spat out the last two words so no answers came from her.
Truthfully, she wanted no answers. She feared the possibility that Duncan had loved another, which meant only one outcome for her. She would never receive Duncan’s love.
“In the morning, Niall tried to wake her but…” She gave a one-shoulder shrug resignedly and choked on her unshed tears. “Hector had to explain why she would never wake up.”
In their silence, Duncan stepped into the chamber. For a moment, he worried Niall’s illness intensified then he heard his brother whimper. He propped a shoulder on the wall, needing its support.
Quietly, he shut the door and crossed to the room to stand between Màiri and Ailsa as he stared down at his little brother. The feeling of impotence washed over him. As laird and brother, his duty was to protect him, to fight his demons but Duncan thought, this fight would be won thanks to Niall’s will and Ailsa’s determination.
Duncan scooped him up in his arms, feeling his slight weight and his burning heat radiate through wool and linen to his skin. “Put him down. He needs to rest,” Ailsa ordered, clutching his muscular forearm.
“I’m bringing him to the other chamber. It’s been prepared and is waiting.”
“I want him here.” She chased after her husband out the room and down the passageway.
“He needs to be in the other chamber so both of us can get some rest and the servants can help care for him.” He motioned her to open the door to his childhood chamber. “That can’t be done in our chamber.”
“Fine but I’ll be by his side.”
He laid his little brother on the bed and covered him with every blanket. “I expect no different.” Duncan placed his arm around his wife, feeling her tension stiffening her shoulders but she leaned into him and held tight onto his plaid. She slumped against him, revealing her fatigue. Keeping his mouth shut, he wondered how to get her to bed when a timid knock sounded.
Moira popped her head inside. “I’m here to stay with Niall so my lady could get some rest.”
“That’s not necessary I plan to stay. You can seek your bed—”
“No, Moira will stay tonight. Don’t fight me on this, I will be the victor.”
Ailsa made a sound in the back of her throat then smacked her mouth closed and dipped her head in agreement. “Thank you, Moira.”
Duncan added more peat to the fire, listening to Ailsa instruct Moira in Niall’s care. He slapped his hands together, brushing away dirt while Ailsa continued instructing Moira. He straightened and waited for her to finish or at the very least take a breath. Duncan found solace in her diligence. Niall was in an angel’s hands.
“Come, Ailsa. Moira knows what to do,” he cut in when she started listing the songs that calmed him and she didn’t seem even half way finished.
“You can depend on me,” Moira vowed when Duncan led his weary wife out the chamber and to bed.
Duncan wrapped his arm around her waist. She clutched at him. Her fingernails pressed into his side.
“Do you think Moira will remember my instructions?”
“No.” He softened his rebuke by stroking her hand.
She sprung from his arms, almost hitting the wall behind her. Duncan caught her in mid-spin before she sprinted back to the chamber. “I was teasing.” Her lips pursed. “Badly. I tried to lighten the strain.”
No emotion showed on her face so he knew not whether she was angry and refused to speak or felt a bit more lighthearted than she had since Niall fell ill. Her head dipped in acquiescence and he decided to follow her lead. “Do you think I should check on him?”
“No, I think you need to rest.” He hauled her to their chamber. And in her exhausted state, he got her in the chamber and half undressed before she spared him a glance.
“I should be with him.”
“Arms up.” She lifted them straight over her head. Duncan drew the rest of her dirty, sweat- soiled clothing and threw it over his shoulder. “You need sleep.” He shed his clothing. Ailsa remained motionless on the bed, her hands folded in her lap, and her brow knitted as she stared in the direction of Niall’s chamber.
“If I order you to sleep, will you obey me?”
“I’m too weary to disobey.”
Her confession brought a smile to his face. “I order you to bed.” He scooped her up and without loosening his hold, climbed into bed. He cradled her close with her head on his shoulder and her hair in his mouth. He spit the silken strands from his mouth and smoothed her locks down, far from his mouth.
“I don’t think I can sleep,” Ailsa confessed.
“You can, just don’t fight against it.”
He believed she was welcoming sleep. Time slowly ticked by and he began to drift off.
“Duncan,” she whispered tentatively. He made a soft sound in response. “Niall thought I was your mother.” Duncan tensed but as Ailsa continued speaking, his trepidation slowly abated. “He misses his mother.” He hoped Ailsa would drop the subject. “Do you miss her?”
He briefly thought about not answering. “Aye, I was her favorite,” he chuckled softly with a trace of scorn. His mother’s favorite yet he neglected the woman who gave him life in her last days because he was blindly, foolishly in love. He failed to do his duty to protect her. He had broken his vow to his father.
Duncan knew he lacked the power to prevent her death since he couldn’t even stop her pain. And not having to see her wracked with pain, he acted as though it didn’t exist. Now his guilt for abandoning her choked him. Anger surged through him for being foolishly blinded by Ceara. Guilt and anger was all he seemed to feel.
Ailsa squeaked and he loosened his hold on her.
“Then again, she told Hector and Niall the same thing insisting we were all her favorites for various reasons.”
Duncan didn’t want to think of her.
“She sounds very loving.”
“Ma was in every way. When I was younger, I was quite restless and only she calmed me. She taught me patience.”
Duncan didn’t understand why he was speaking of his mother with Ailsa but the words flowed from him. Maybe he was able to speak so freely because he felt as though the dark hid him. “I think I might miss her more than Niall.” Ailsa rose up and set a kiss upon his chin before scooting back in his arms. He smiled as he brushed her hair from his mouth again. “What about your mother?”
“She was the perfect mother.” Her body took on a lightness he sensed when she was in his arms and her voice brimmed with love, taking on a wispy quality. “With her, I was safe and protected. My father never bothered me. My life was quiet and calm. Only my mother could make everything right. It’s fitting she was named Erin.”
“Peace,” he said aloud, not meaning to.
“Aye, she gave me that and her love.” Sleep thickened her voice. “She would have liked you Duncan. I miss her.” Her breathing deepened in slow and steady rise and fall.
Duncan shut his eyes but they popped open minutes later. He was perplexed on why he told her about his mother. He never shared anything about her. But with Ailsa, it felt
right to share. She would understand. He closed his eyes and dozed off seconds later.
* * * *
Ailsa wiped down Niall’s feverish body while Moira straightened the messy chamber. New linens were set on the trunk ready for her use. Dozens of jars stuffed with herbs rested on the trestle table and dirty bowls replaced with clean ones but the roasting air in the chamber weighed down on Ailsa. Perspiration drenched her body even between her toes. Fanning herself never gave her a reprieve from the chamber’s sultriness but she refused to part from Niall. She needed to be here with him. Being at his side banished her fears and worries.
Ailsa replaced the blankets, tucking them snuggly under his chin. He still writhed from the fever consuming him but he wasn’t cool enough for Ailsa’s peace of mind.
Moira gathered soiled linens and was ready to leave the chamber. “If that is all, I’ll leave you, my lady.”
“There is something I wish to ask you.” Ailsa grabbed the jug of water and poured some into a bowl. “What do you know of that woman Duncan was with when his mother died?” She asked as she crushed herbs in another bowl, preparing the drink to combat Niall’s illness.
Moira stared at the floor, her feet shuffling in place. “Do you really want to hear that? It might pain you. I know hearing about another woman with Hector would break my heart.”
Last night, Duncan revealed his buried feelings about his mother. To Ailsa, that was a beginning but she needed to know more about his demons if she was going to win his love. Ailsa gulped down her fear. “I must know.”
Moira dropped the pile back on the floor and perched on the stool. She tapped the other stool, gesturing for Ailsa to sit. Ailsa knew it must be a grim story if she must sit but she needed to hear his history so she perched on the stool, holding herself upright.
“Ceara was her name. She was beautiful and MacLean loved her.”
Ailsa choked. Tight bands constricted around her chest, becoming tighter and tighter until she couldn’t suck in a much needed inhale. Duncan loved another and probably still loved her. He would never love her.
Moira clasped her hand, pulling her free from her heartbreak.
“Please go on.”
She darted a look at Ailsa as she wished to disagree.
“I must hear it all.” Ailsa covered Moira’s hand with her own trembling one. Both felt the shaking but Moira never mentioned it. Ailsa was thankful for her reserve.
“That woman came here to help her aunt who lost her husband. Ceara was very beautiful with fine blond hair and pale blue eyes that almost appeared white. She certainly looked virtuous but she was sinful, very sinful. From the instant she arrived, Ceara sought out the laird, chasing him around until it seemed they spent every moment together. There was talk that he planned to wed her. She seemed to be very kind but there were moments when her true ugliness came out. That woman couldn’t abide being around Hector. I heard her whispering that they should have sent him to live in a monastery so good people wouldn’t have to be around him. She said he made her ill.”
Ailsa gasped. She couldn’t understand how Duncan failed to see the evil in the woman. Her beauty and Duncan’s love must have blinded him to her evil side. She glanced at Niall. He cared so very much for his brothers that Duncan would cut down anyone who slighted them.
Moira sighed. “Then the laird died and she began pressing MacLean to wed but he told her to wait until he had secured his position as laird. When the Lairdess sickened, she avoided her, never caring for her or even inquiring about her health.”
Ailsa was jealous of this woman. Jealous, she attained his love. That woman had a rare treasure and destroyed it. She wished for only a slice of her husband’s heart for even a tiny sliver would bring her joy.
“Miobeal was still alive and Ceara began behaving as though she was the Lairdess. The laird thought she was helping but that woman found wrong with everyone. The worst happened when she went to visit her family and upon her return told MacLean, some MacKinnons attacked her. It was a lie but he charged to her defense. While he went off feuding, Father Murray visited to counsel Moibeal. He told Lachlan that Ceara was to wed MacKinnon and very soon since they had their wedding night before the wedding.”
She betrayed him. “But why did she join with MacKinnon?”
“MacLean land is fruitful with the sea and trade. And if MacLean died, the clan might have become unstable, maybe even in turmoil.”
“That devil’s mistress just didn’t want Duncan’s death. She wanted to annihilate the clan,” Ailsa cried out. How Duncan must have felt? The torment he must have experienced to know that someone you love never returned that sentiment and actually used it against you.
“How did Duncan find out?”
Moira brushed her hair back. “He returned when he got word of his mother’s death.”
“So what happened?” Ailsa prompted when Moira fell silent.
“Lachlan greeted him and told him of his mother’s death and of her treachery. Ceara denied it and accused Lachlan of touching her. MacLean attacked Lachlan but he wouldn’t raise a hand to the laird. Instead, he took every blow without raising his arms in defense. Father Murray stepped in and told him the whole story.”
"My lady," Moira cried. "You are crying. I will say no more."
Ailsa waved her to finish the telling. Her heart cracked into pieces and her hopes for his love dwindled with every word but she needed to know.
“She said Father Murray was a liar. Imagine saying that about a man of the cloth and such a sweet soul.”
“What did Duncan do?”
“He threw her on his mount and rode out. He returned alone. No one spoke of it again. Hector told me months later that the laird rode to MacKinnon land and threw her like a caber on it and told her if he saw her again, he would run a sword through her. He promised never to love a woman.”
Duncan was a man of his word.
“I didn’t know the MacKinnon married.”
“He isn’t any longer. She died in childbirth along with a child that was full size but three months early.”
“Duncan’s?”
“With her, my lady, I wouldn’t think so.”
* * * *
Duncan spent the day preparing for the night. Before supper, he checked on Niall and found Ailsa where she had been since Niall fell ill, at his side.
The stifling heat spilled from the room. Instantly, he broke a sweat. The sour stench of sick cloaked the room almost causing him to gag.
He watched as his puny wife stretched, massaging her lower back with groans of pleasure and pain. Niall’s guardian angel presented a weary smile over her shoulder.
He crossed to the bedside and scrutinized Niall. Ailsa dampened the cloth again before setting it back on his brow.
“How is he faring?” Niall seemed no different, no worse nor better. He kicked the covers off and released a rattling exhale. Duncan laid a hand on his thin shoulders, calming his brother before covering him again.
“He began to sweat but his fever returned. I just gave him a draft but we have to wait for it to start working. At least he will sleep.”
Duncan placed his palm against Niall’s brow. “He is cooler than yesterday but not as much as I want.”
Silence greeted his words. He looked toward his wife. Ailsa appeared preoccupied with her thoughts as she stared at his hand at his side. She probably fretted about Niall’s health. “Ailsa—Ailsa.”
“Forgive me. My mind was—you were saying.”
“Will you be joining me at mealtime?” He placed his arm at her waist. He needed to touch her to feel her wellbeing. It eased his mind to know she was well. Even though, she looked bedraggled. Her embroidered leine was wrinkled and damp around her neck. Beads of perspiration dotted her brow and matted her frizzy hair in a tangled mess. She lifted her hair off her nape and fanned herself. Duncan leaned over and blew on the nape of her neck. “That feels good.”
Duncan asked her again about joining him.
“Nay, Moi
ra is bringing me a tray.”
He dropped his hand.
For his own solace, Duncan checked on Niall again, silently commanding him to get well. He mustn’t lose him.
Duncan gave Ailsa a quick peck before heading to the hall. His two commanders awaited him, standing next to the left arched window overlooking the clachan.
“The final preparations have been made. More patrols are set around the borders,” Caelan informed him, fixing his eyes on the vista spread out.
“And the cattle have been guarded but we didn’t want to send them to the mountains. Don’t want them to lose all that fattening up,” Lachlan added.
“Why are MacKinnons attacking us now, especially knowing Cameron’s forces add eight -hundred men to my thousand. And why have Cameron and MacKinnon brought in French mercenaries? I don’t trust that rat of a laird.”
The three men looked toward the sounds of shuffling and spotted Hector coming towards them. As he reached them, the men came in.
The subject dropped until the meal was set before them. “Do you think Camerons and MacKinnons are joining together against us? They could overrun us.”
“Would the Camerons do that after Duncan wedded his daughter?” Hector demanded.
“Surely, he possesses no honor,” Lachlan added.
Duncan thought of Cameron’s treatment of his daughter. She never spoke of it but her few words alluded to his indifference. And his swift departure from the wedding feast showed he had no love for Ailsa. So Duncan didn’t believe he would concern himself with his daughter’s wellbeing.
“Not since our wedding day has he sent any inquiry or message to his daughter. If he didn’t care then why should he now?”
“She has no value to him,” Hector interjected. He shrugged in response as they gaped at him. “When she asked for my aid with the clan, she said she wanted to show that she had value. So it obviously means that she didn’t have it then.”
Each man but Duncan was dumbfounded. They failed to understand how a father couldn’t value his daughter. Caelan, the only one with a sister, believed his sister was the most precious person in his life. Women were, at least to Lachlan.
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