“And it’s your damn fault we’re here instead of at the Keep where there are trained healers who could help Molly,” Perry snapped – he’d spoken in a low, angry whisper but it was still clearly audible to everybody at the table.
Brianna held her breath. Could this be a fatal falling out between the three men? She could feel Robert tensing at her side, clearly thinking the same thing she was – if there was a chance, however slight, that they could bundle Weatherby out of the room in the ensuing chaos… if Malcolm and Perry went at each other’s throats as they seemed about to do —
But Kellan slammed a fist on the table, breaking the tension, his jaw tight as he snapped at his men. “Behave yourselves. Remember what’s at stake, here.”
“Sorry, Kellan,” Perry mumbled, sitting back in his chair. “Forgot myself.”
“Aye, you did,” Kellan said, giving him a long stare.
Malcolm, for his part, didn’t apologize, but Brianna saw a look of acute relief flit across his face as he returned to his dinner – he’d asked for a second helping, she noticed with amusement. He really was making the most of his stay here, for all that he was the last among the Stuart refugees who seemed to need any more food.
“The healer being unable to get here is… unfortunate.”
“Aye, it is,” Robert said, the sympathy on his face very real. “I sent the messenger again by a longer and more circuitous route, so word will reach the castle one way or another – and if the MacClaran guards on patrol are able to get rid of the last of the highwaymen, I’m sure someone will be sent straight away.” He sighed. “Would’ve been better to send her straight there, Kellan.”
“I don’t need your advice,” Kellan said sharply – but it was clear from the look on his face that the revelation that bringing Molly here had been worse for her health than taking her to the Keep had shaken him.
That was good. They needed him shaken, needed the three men at each other’s throats… the more internal division they could sow, the more likely they were to be able to get Weatherby out of captivity as soon as possible, and get these refugees on their way.
But on their way where? She bit her lip, torn between the importance of doing her job and keeping Weatherby and her allies safe… and her increasing concern for the refugees. Where were they going to go after this? It was clear that little Molly needed much more than a few days’ rest to make a full recovery… she’d still barely woken since the day before, even with Eliza coaxing broth into her at every possible chance.
The more the Stuarts warred among themselves, the more Brianna worried that their future was in jeopardy. If things got worse for them and not better, she’d be partly to blame. Could she live with that?
Chapter 25
It wasn’t long before Kellan, clearly anxious, finished his meal and pushed his plate away, his worried eyes dancing over the gathered guests at the table. With a quick jerk of his head, he signaled for his men to take Weatherby back to his chambers. The Lord protested that they hadn’t even had dessert yet, but a quick flash of the steel that the men carried — some of it liberated from Weatherby’s guards, Brianna noticed with some amusement — reminded him who held all the cards in this particular situation. Grumbling to himself – though, she noticed, not loudly enough for anyone to actually hear him – Weatherby allowed the men to escort him to his bedroom, giving Brianna and Robert a pleading look as he went. She wished she could tell him it was all going to be alright… but she didn’t want to risk antagonizing his captors.
Besides, she wasn’t actually sure that it was going to be alright.
With Perry, Malcolm, and Weatherby gone, Kellan was alone with them at the table. He sagged a little, clearly exhausted despite the day of rest, and Brianna tilted her head, leaning a little closer to him.
“Have you had the chance to rest much today?”
“No,” he admitted, giving her a suspicious look. “Why?”
“You look wretched, man,” Robert said with a booming laugh that brought a reluctant grin to Kellan’s lips, despite his irritation at the insult. “Like a half-drowned rat. Why won’t you rest?”
“And leave those two in charge? You’ve seen how they bicker.” He shook his head, scrubbing at his face with one hand.
Robert got to his feet, glancing thoughtfully around the room.
“Baldric told me an interesting little secret about this room,” he said to himself, heading over to a bookshelf that looked just like the others – but Brianna’s eyes widened when he pulled away what looked like the spine of an enormous tome to reveal a full-sized bottle of clear amber liquid stashed inside the book’s hollow carcass. “Hah! I knew Weatherby wasn’t as well-read as he’d like to let on. Scotch whisky,” he said with some satisfaction, bringing the bottle back over to the table. “At least he’s got decent taste in that.”
“And that alone,” Kellan said, rolling his eyes.
But she saw how quickly he offered his glass to be filled and grinned to herself. It seemed Robert had a few tricks up his sleeve. This was an opportunity to get a little more information from Kellan – maybe even to figure out some new strategies of getting a decent resolution to all of this. Robert poured her a draft, too, and they clinked their glasses before downing it. Kellan sighed in contentment.
“God, did I need that,” he admitted, shaking his head.
“You’ve had a hell of a year,” Robert agreed, then poured another round.
Brianna sipped it carefully, hoping her alcohol tolerance would keep up with these men… and knowing by the warmth already spreading from her belly that it absolutely wouldn’t. Best to get her questions in soon.
“Why did you come here?” she asked softly, leaning forward. “What made you choose to come here and take Weatherby prisoner instead of simply asking for aid at the Keep? They’d have been able to do so much more for Molly there.”
Kellan’s face twisted with grief at that, and he shook his head, his eyes on the drink in his hands. “Aye, perhaps. I’ll admit that that was my first instinct. We’ve heard plenty of stories about the MacClaran women – healing plagues, saving lives… But Malcolm talked me out of it. I don’t know, I was still so upset over Erin… she took so long in dying,” he said bleakly, shaking his head. “Have you ever watched someone you love starve to death?” Robert shook his head, his eyes shadowed, and Brianna felt her eyes stinging a little with tears at the utterly broken look on Kellan’s face. “It’s not pretty. I – I wasn’t myself. Malcolm’s got a way with words when he wants to… he goaded me into getting angry, into wanting revenge and reparations for what the English did. But this isn’t the best place for Molly,” he said, rubbing his forehead, an absolute picture of exhaustion. “I should have known that.”
“She’s okay,” Brianna said, feeling a strange need to reassure him, even though professionally speaking it might have been a better tactic to encourage this loss of faith in his man Malcolm. “She’s safe and warm with a roof over her head. She’ll regain her strength. We’re doing what we can for her here.”
“But with no healer…” Kellan sighed.
“We’ll get her a healer as soon as we can,” Robert said firmly. “I'm sure Eamon’s men are working on routing the highwaymen, clearing the roads again for travel between the Manor and the Keep. Once that’s done, we’ll have every expert in the country coming to visit Molly. She’ll be well again, Kellan. I promise you that at least. Can’t say as much about the ransom…”
Kellan actually laughed at that, a bitter, hacking sound. “Don’t say too much about that or Malcolm will come running. I swear he’s more interested in money than he is in his own niece.” He sighed heavily, taking another deep draft of the whisky. “I shouldn’t be speaking about this with you. Time for bed, I think. Thanks for the whisky,” he added, giving Robert a wan smile. “And thanks for your honesty, Lady Brianna. Keep an eye on Molly, would you?”
She nodded, oddly touched by the request. He clearly cared a great deal for his daughter…
wanting her to be in Brianna’s hands was a compliment. She only hoped that her help would be useful… that they could make sure that the poor little girl got well again, and soon. If they lost her right now… well, precious little else seemed to interest Kellan. What if he succumbed entirely to despair? She felt an awful flash of how she’d felt at the moment she’d realized that her last negotiation back in the twenty-first century had failed… the sound of the man’s ugly laughter as he set his entire home ablaze with him and his family inside… would Kellan do something similar?
Not if they looked after Molly, she told herself firmly. And as she and Robert left the room, Robert picking up his weapons from the guards at the door as they did, she felt a new determination to make sure the little girl survived her affliction. She was no nutritional expert by twenty-first century standards… but here in the medieval era, what she knew about food practically made her a witch. First thing in the morning, she was going to check on Molly and see what could be done about introducing what she needed to her diet to get her well again.
Robert was oddly quiet as they walked down the hallways toward her room, and she glanced up at him to see his face deep in thought. Gently, after quickly checking that nobody was around to see him, she slipped her hand into his, and felt him squeeze it warmly in response, giving her a quick look of affection as he did. “Lost in my thoughts,” he admitted with a soft smile. “That Kellan… I’ve seen that look on a man’s face before. Saw it on my own more than a few time, on my brothers’. He’s still hurting from the loss of his wife… but I can’t imagine how bad the hurt would be if he lost Molly, too.”
“We’re not going to let that happen,” Brianna promised him. “I’m going to go and see her first thing tomorrow. I know a few things about nutrition – I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she’s okay.” She sighed, thinking back to her medicine cabinet back home. She’d always kept vitamin pills on hand – what she wouldn’t give for a single one of the multivitamins she took every single day! Even a vitamin C tablet would be worth its weight in gold… not for the first time, she marveled at the unbelievable conveniences that she’d taken for granted for so long. Even a hot shower was an unimaginably futuristic luxury… not that a hot shower was what would help Molly right now.
Then they were at her door, and Robert swooped down to give her a furtive kiss goodnight before leaving for his own quarters. She lingered at the doorway a moment, torn by the urge to call him back, to ask him to stay with her again… they could give each other comfort through the long, cold night… but no, she decided, biting her lip. It seemed he had some feelings to work through about his wife… and she was mindful of not wanting to get on the wrong side of that. If this relationship was going to be something serious – and more and more, she was realizing that it was something she wanted – then she’d have to tread very carefully when it came to the topic of his dead wife. She couldn’t be a replacement for a dead woman, couldn’t fill that empty space in his heart – if they were to have a relationship, it would need to be something completely new, which meant he needed to heal fully. She was fairly sure he’d done a lot of that work already… but still, with everything going on, there was nothing wrong with taking it slow.
Still, her bed felt cold and lonely in comparison to how it had been with him in it the night before. Had it truly been less than twenty-four hours since the kidnappers had come? It took her a long time to get to sleep. When she finally drifted off, she found herself running down the cobblestone streets of London again, but this time the shadowy figures watching her from the alleys all had the faces of men she knew – of Malcolm, Perry and Kellan, of the guards, even of Weatherby and Baldric… even of Robert… and all of them were pursuing her, getting closer and closer as she ran and ran. She was terrified in the dream, terrified that they’d catch her… but not because she though they’d hurt her. She was worried that if they caught her, they’d see her for what she was… a fraud.
Brianna sat bolt upright in bed just after dawn, her heart still pounding from the dream. Irritated with herself, she shook off the adrenaline of the dream, grounding herself in the present moment. It was just a dream, that was all… a textbook dream about her impostor syndrome, of course, but a dream nonetheless. She took a few deep breaths, wishing sorely that she could talk to her therapist… just for ten minutes. Five, even. She’d kill for one of his gentle, reassuring smiles – that expression that told her that she was doing just fine, even if she felt a little bit silly.
“I know what I’m doing,” she whispered in the cold morning air, a kind of affirmation she was hoping that she’d come to believe. “This is going to be fine.”
She repeated it again and again as she got up and got dressed, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep any time soon. It was a particularly cold winter’s day, and she shivered as she wrapped an extra layer around her shoulders, hoping that the fire in little Molly’s room had been piled high with wood. The little girl had precious little extra insulation to keep her warm on a day like this. That reminded her – she’d been intending to visit. She left her room and tapped gently on Molly’s door, prepared to leave if she didn’t hear a response – but there was Eliza’s voice, calling her in.
Molly looked much the same as she had the day before – she was fast asleep by the fire, her pale face peaceful in rest, if drawn and sallow still. There were more empty bowls on the table beside her, and Brianna was heartened to see the little girl stir a little as the door creaked – she was already showing more signs of life than she had been the day before, and though she still looked like she should be in the emergency room of a hospital, she was clearly still hanging on. Eliza looked a little better, too – clearly a little food and rest had agreed with her, though the worry on her face for her little charge was still very clear.
“How is she?” Brianna asked, tilting her head to the side. “Doing a little better?”
“It’s hard to say,” Eliza said softly, moving to the bedside to stroke the little girl’s hair. “She’s had several bowls of broth now, and I think the liquid is helping her, but she’s so weak, and there’s precious little substance to it.”
“Has she thrown anything up?” Brianna asked, trying to think back to what she knew about sensitive stomachs.
Eliza shook her head.
“That’s a good sign. Perhaps we can move her onto a slightly thicker soup, just to try to get a little more energy into her.”
“I’d happily try it.” Eliza stroked the girl’s hair again, and Brianna sighed at how visibly dry and broken it was. Malnutrition turned up in all kinds of ways.
“What other symptoms have you noticed?” she asked. There had been a section on nutrition when she’d been studying biology in high school… she could still remember a few of the diseases that were caused by nutritional deficiencies. Scurvy, rickets… there were more, too.
“Her teeth bleed,” Eliza said immediately, clearly worried by this particular symptom. “That’s a big part of why she stopped eating solid foods. And she bruises like a peach, too.” She pulled the blanket back a little, revealing the little girl’s impossibly thin arm – more like a skeleton with flesh clinging to it than a real human arm. Sure enough, the arm was covered in bruises, deep and frightening, for all the world as though she’d been struck and grabbed roughly. “It looks so awful,” Eliza said, tears springing to her eyes. “As though she’s been beaten, but I swear to you nobody’s done anything more than touch her –”
“I understand,” Brianna said, shaking her head. “The nutrients in food… they help the body heal. When those vitamins are taken away, the body gets much less resilient. It’s no wonder she’s bruising so easily. Anything else?”
“The exhaustion,” Eliza said, shaking her head. “She can barely stay awake for a few minutes. I’ve been trying to encourage her to feed herself, but holding the spoon for even a minute is too much for her. Her bones hurt, she tells me – she weeps when she’s moved, for all t
he world as though her bones are broken, though they’re not. And her hair. It used to be so soft and golden,” Eliza said sadly, “but now… well, it’s coarse as straw. I daren’t even brush it for fear of how much comes out.”
“I promise you she’ll get better,” Brianna said firmly. “I’m going down to breakfast now. I’m going to see what we can do for her.”
Chapter 26
Brianna headed down the stairs, feeling a new sense of purpose in her belly. Negotiating with the men could wait – right now, the important thing was to make sure that absolutely everything that could be done for Molly was being done. There was nobody coming from the Keep right now, and nobody here more educated on nutrition than Brianna was – so she was just going to have to take charge. First, she grabbed a few pastries from a platter in the dining room, wanting to keep her own strength up but not wanting to sit down to a long breakfast. Then, she headed for the kitchens.
There were a few servants in there, milling about, and they gave her curious looks when she entered, exchanging glances with one another. Brianna smiled.
“How are you all holding up?”
“Oh, just fine,” one of the servants said, shrugging her shoulders. “The Stuarts aren’t so bad, overall.”
“Well, most of them,” the other said darkly. “That fat one keeps robbing the larders late at night.”
Brianna covered her smile – it was pretty clear that the woman was talking about Malcolm. “They’ve been starving for a long time,” she said diplomatically.
“Not that one,” the servant said, rolling her eyes. The second woman shushed her, shooting a nervous look at Brianna.
Highlander Returned: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 9) Page 18