Struggling to her feet, Catherine loomed over the young girl. “Don’t…touch…me,” she wheezed, as her entire body trembled violently.
Recognizing the situation was beyond her control, Tilly scrambled away from the sick woman, not getting to her feet until she was certain she was safely out of reach. Hurrying out the door, she ran full tilt into Rian in the gloomy hallway. Awakened by the shrieks coming from the bedroom, he had scrambled into his breeches before coming to investigate. Tilly had never been so grateful to see him.
“What is it, girl?” he asked, taking hold of her shoulders while ignoring her wide-eyed stare at his state of undress.
“Oh sir, I need Mrs. Hatch.” She pointed to the room behind her. “She’s burning up with fever, and I can’t settle her. I’m afeared she’ll hurt herself.” Yanking herself free of his hold, she ran down the hallway, disappearing in the dark shadows.
Catherine, weaving unsteadily, held onto the bedpost, watching the man who crossed the threshold and entered the room. She stared, frowning slightly at the sight of his bare torso although apparently quite impervious to her own nudity. Her one eye glared at him, glowing with a light that made her look wild and savage. All the bandages, save those still wrapped around her feet, now lay on the floor like discarded ribbons. Rian surmised a few had most likely come loose in her struggle with Tilly; the rest she must have pulled off herself. In any case, the physical exertion had reopened most of her wounds and his mouth formed a grim line at the sight of a trickle of blood sliding across her hip bone.
Catherine was held spellbound by the man across the room. His eyes, the warmest she had ever seen, mesmerized her. Deep brown flecked with gold and framed by thick, black lashes. There was kindness and strength reflected in his eyes, and a voice inside her head whispered that she was safe.
Trust him. He will not hurt you.
She could recall someone telling her that the eyes were a reflection of a person’s soul, but she could not remember who might have spoken such words.
Trust him.
She wanted to, Good Lord how she wanted to, but then from a much darker place a different voice spoke. Loud and strident, it shouted inside her head, demanding to be heard.
He’s a man, and it was a man who hurt you! Do not listen to him. He will only tell you silken lies. You must run; you must save yourself.
No, he will be your refuge, the first voice protested.
Silken lies whispered on a honeyed tongue! screamed the second.
The voices now took to quarreling, and Catherine found herself helpless to quiet them. For a moment she imagined the man across the room could hear them as well, because the expression on his face suddenly changed. The warmth in his eyes cooled and his mouth became stern. He was outraged, and Catherine knew she needed to tell him something, something important that he would understand; only she couldn’t remember what it might be. And then the man moved toward her, and the moment was lost.
All the bed coverings were on the floor, and she watched as Rian approached, moving slowly as if afraid she might turn and run at any moment. His eyes never left her face, even when he carefully dropped to his haunches and reached for the sheet. She tracked his movement, turning her body to follow him and Rian found himself admiring her willpower. That she could stand at all was a miracle. Although seeing how tightly the skin was stretched over her knuckles as she gripped the bedpost, he knew the effort was costing her.
Doing his best to ignore the delicate curve of a breast as it peeked out from behind a tangled skein of her hair, Rian stretched his arms wide. In each hand he held a corner of the sheet, and he stepped forward with the intention of wrapping Catherine in it. She hissed at him, apparently not approving of his plan, and then startled him further by making strange, guttural noises. Rian hesitated. A fine sheen of sweat beaded her limbs, making her skin glisten, and her body, which had been trembling before, now shook more violently. He wondered how it was she had not yet fallen to the floor. Glancing at her still wrapped feet he concluded she most likely lacked the equilibrium needed to remove the bandages, and for that he was grateful. Especially as bright, crimson stains seeped through the strips of linen. A sure indication her feet were not yet ready to take the pressure of supporting her.
Rian was unable to stop himself from gazing at her. Matted with perspiration, her hair fell to her hips, and warmth suffused his face as he noticed the nest of slightly darker curls atop her thighs. As she tilted her head, the curtain of hair moved enough to hide the breast he had glimpsed, but in compensation it revealed the curve of her waist, the round flare of hips, and long shapely legs. She flexed slightly, surprising him with a display of muscle. More than he would have expected. This was a girl who had not spent her life in idle pursuits, but one who enjoyed the benefits of physical activity. And for some strange reason this pleased him.
She watched him. Her eye still glittered with that strange light, reminding him of a wild animal caught in a trap, and just as inherently dangerous. As if reading his thoughts, she curled her lip, bared her teeth and snarled at him. Rian did not need to be told that she was teetering on the edge of madness, or that equal measures of stealth and strength would be necessary to make sure she did not hurt herself.
He had managed to get as close to her as he dared, and feinted to one side in an effort to draw her off balance. His plan was to move in and quickly wrap the sheet about her, and his strategy almost worked. What he had not anticipated was the strength she drew from whatever dark place she was in. It was unexpected and powerful, and she used it to kick him in the balls. At least that’s what would have happened had her stance been more secure, and her aim true. As it was, she managed to land a punishing blow that glanced off the inside of one heavily muscled thigh. Rian sucked in a breath while offering up a silent prayer of gratitude that he might still yet father a child one day.
Deciding to take advantage of his weight, he rushed her, and managed to get enough of the sheet wrapped about her body to pin her arms to her sides. The shriek of fury that issued from her nearly perforated his ear drums as she twisted and struggled within his embrace. She continued to kick out wildly, and Rian grunted when she caught him on the shin. It wasn’t until she head-butted him, making him bite his tongue and suck in a sharp breath that he decided it was time to end her wild flailing before one of them really got hurt. Pulling her hard against him, he used enough force to unbalance her, but in doing so he also lost his own footing and fell back onto the bed, bringing the struggling girl down on top of him. With both arms wrapped around her, Rian took the added precaution of throwing a leg over both of hers and pinning her against him.
“God damn it, woman, would you lie still? I’m trying to help you,” he growled through clenched teeth and the taste of blood in his mouth.
At that moment Tilly burst through the open doorway, followed by the flawlessly turned out Mrs. Hatch who, in turn, had a tousle-headed Liam on her heels. All three of them now stared at Rian, and he realized that if the situation were not so dire, the picture he presented could easily be misconstrued. He lay half naked on his back with an obviously distraught female on top of him. A female who was obviously quite naked inside the sheet she almost wore.
He let out an exasperated sigh and wondered if he should explain that, up until a moment ago, their patient had been hell-bent on trying to ensure the continuation of the Connor line would fall to his brother alone. He doubted anyone would believe him, especially as she now lay meek and quiet in his arms with all trace of violence suspended.
As the moment of quiet lengthened, Rian could feel the feverish heat radiating from her body, and with a slight gesture of his head he motioned for Mrs. Hatch to come forward. Immediately the housekeeper took charge, going to the washstand and pouring water from the large pitcher into the basin before sending Tilly for more linen wraps and salve. Loosening his hold on the girl’s arms, Rian began to ease himself out from und
er her, but as he shifted away, she managed to pull one arm free and grab his hand.
“No, don’t leave me,” she muttered hoarsely.
The firmness of her grip was something he had felt before, but at that time she had mistaken him for the person who had hurt her, and was begging him to stop. Now he could sense that she knew he was not the same person. Whoever she thought he was, her need for him seemed very real. Rian stared at her. The strange, almost feral light that had shone from her eye was gone, leaving the cornflower blue iris shimmering in a pool of unshed tears. Thick dark lashes glistened, and he watched as she silently pleaded with him. She swallowed, the movement of her throat making her grimace. A moment ago she had been positively violent in her effort to free herself from his hold, and now she was silently beseeching him to stay. Conflicted by this sudden change, Rian shook his head and looked to his brother for help. But the only response Liam had to offer was his own bewildered expression.
“She does seem a little quieter with you here, Master Rian,” Mrs. Hatch murmured while dispensing a nod of encouragement.
“You wouldn’t say that if you had seen her five minutes ago,” he muttered sourly.
“Be that as it may, she is quieter now,” the housekeeper continued, “and perhaps if you were to remain, she will lie still long enough for me to redress her wounds, and make her more comfortable.”
It was a reasonable request and made good sense, so Rian perched himself awkwardly on the edge of the bed with his hand held fast in the girl’s grip.
Tilly returned with the linen cloths and salve, and was then dispatched to brew a cup of Dr. MacGregor’s special tea, guaranteed to calm a fractious body. Gently the older woman sponged the girl’s face and wiped down her arms but her patient didn’t seem to notice, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on Rian’s face.
“I need you to lie down, child, so I can put some medicine on your back; it will help with the pain,” Mrs. Hatch said softly, gently pressing her hand against her patient’s shoulder. The girl remained rigid and uncooperative, and turned her head to stare at the matronly figure.
“You must let Mrs. Hatch help you,” Rian said, grateful to see a flicker of recognition illuminate her face. Somewhere in the chaotic fragments of her mind, the housekeeper’s presence registered.
Following her example, Rian put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and pushed gently, surprised and pleased when she allowed herself to be lowered to the bed before automatically rolling onto her stomach. Her movement meant she had to release Rian’s hand, and he swore he heard her whimper before she reclaimed it once more.
“Good God!”
Although Rian had described the girl’s injuries to his brother, seeing them with his own eyes was another prospect entirely. Liam had been standing quietly, observing the interaction , completely unprepared for the sight of vicious welts and livid bruising that crisscrossed their patient’s back. It produced a reaction in him similar to the one his brother had experienced at the sight. Unfortunately the unfamiliar male voice made her eye open wide with fear.
“I think, Master Liam, it would be best if you were to leave now,” Mrs. Hatch told him. “I thank you for your concern, but as you can see, we are all quite safe, and in no danger.” Her tone brooked no argument, and finding himself in sudden desperate need of a drink, Liam turned and left the room.
“I’ll speak with him later,” Rian said quietly.
“Aye, that might be best.”
Cooing gently, Mrs. Hatch quickly applied the soothing ointment and, with Rian’s help, once more bandaged the open wounds both on Catherine’s back and her feet. Rian thought it likely the girl was in a state of shock. The pain, he knew, would come later.
Tilly returned with the tea, and Rian turned his head to grant some privacy as the patient was persuaded to sit up with her back resting against a mound of soft pillows. She still did not let go of his hand. After tucking the sheet around her for modesty, Mrs. Hatch quickly fashioned her long hair into a single, thick braid.
“When you feel up to it, I’ll wash it again,” she said kindly as she secured the end with a length of ribbon. Taking the cup and saucer from Tilly, she then dismissed the younger girl for the rest for the night. “Let’s see if you can manage a sip or two.”
Having kept his eyes averted while Mrs. Hatch attended to her patient, Rian now turned his head back, and gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. The girl’s expression did not change, but he felt her fingers flex as she squeezed his hand a little.
“I can sit with her now, Master Rian.”
But moving from the bed proved to be impossible as she refused to let go of him, and any attempt to free himself only made the grip on his hand tighten. “I don’t think she wants me to go just yet,” he apologized.
The unnatural flush that colored her face was spreading, making its way down her neck and across her shoulders. He took the cup and persuaded her to take a sip. The honey sweetened brew soothed the rawness of her throat, and she greedily finished it for him.
“Can you tell me your name?” he asked, keeping his voice low so as not to frighten her.
“Catherine.” It was an automatic response, delivered on a hoarse croak, but it was given without any hesitation. Rian and Mrs. Hatch exchanged glances.
“And your family name?” Rian kept the same, low tone. “Can you tell me that?”
Unconsciously he held his breath, watching the smooth forehead pucker in frustration as she tried to catch hold of something familiar and recognizable.
“Catherine…my name…is Catherine…” she repeated.
Her eyelid began to flutter, and she struggled to keep it open. There seemed to be something else she had to tell him, something important, but it was no use. The combination of the rising fever coupled with the calming brew was proving too much. The girl he now knew as Catherine sighed and closed her eye as her head fell against his shoulder.
“Mrs. Hatch?”
The housekeeper moved around the bed and placed her hand on Catherine’s brow. “She’s resting a little easier now, but the fever has yet to break. It will get worse before it gets better, but sleep is the best cure for her now.” She looked at Rian. “Perhaps she will not notice if you were to slip away?”
He tried, but his movement made Catherine moan and clutch at him harder. “Perhaps not,” he murmured.
“No,” Mrs. Hatch agreed, “at least not just yet. In a little while perhaps.”
Deciding to try again when Catherine had fallen into a deeper sleep, Rian resigned himself to remaining where he was. Trusting that her patient could not be in safer hands, Mrs. Hatch picked up the empty cup along with her tray of medicines and quietly left the room.
But Rian did not leave Catherine that night, or the one that came after. He remained as her sickness ran its course, sponging down hot, aching limbs with cool water, and holding her to him when chills shook her hard enough to make her teeth rattle. Dr. MacGregor came and left again. The Scot shook his head as his worst fears were manifested. He told Rian in his soft burr that he had done all he could. Catherine was now the architect of her own recovery. And despite the doctor’s grim prognosis, Rian was pleased to discover the physician was a rarity amongst his profession. He refused to bleed his patient.
“Weakening an already compromised body is nae bloody use at all,” he grumbled to Rian in explanation.
Mrs. Hatch and Tilly took turns, gliding in and out of the room like silent shadows, but Rian was the only one that Catherine would allow near her. He held her in his arms, rocking her gently as her dressings were changed. Poured cool water between her parched lips, and calmed her when Tilly needed to replace the soiled bedding. By chance he discovered she became less fretful when he sang to her, so he hummed songs from his childhood, and when he ran out of those his voice gently wrapped itself around some of the more polite shanties he had learned aboard ship.
> But whenever he tried to leave her, Catherine would reach for him as if the physical contact was a lifeline she was afraid to release. If God was kind, he told himself, she would not remember clutching the back of his breeches every time he needed to use the chamber pot.
The hallucinations came as her fever entered its second day. At the height of her delirium, Catherine began to speak gibberish, her words garbled, and making sense only to herself. And with her incoherent speech came violence. Physical violence. The fierce aggressiveness that she displayed now was far worse than anything Rian had witnessed when he had first tried to wrap her in the bed sheet. Tearing off her bandages, she ripped and clawed at her own flesh before he was able to make her turn her rage outward and direct it at him. She came at him with a strength only those who believe they are in mortal danger possess. Caring nothing for himself, he used all his skill to make certain she did no harm to herself. Her fury became an entity unto itself as she fought against whatever monster had tortured her. And when finally she was spent, and fell exhausted into his arms, Rian knew that what she had endured had left an indelible mark on her.
At some point during the early hours of the morning, Mrs. Hatch softly stole into the room and found Catherine asleep. With one arm curled loosely around Rian’s neck, and her head resting on his bare chest, she slumbered peacefully for the first time since her ordeal began. With her breaths coming in a deep, easy rhythm, Rian had finally let fatigue claim him. He slept with one arm around Catherine’s waist, holding her to him.
The housekeeper smiled as the back of her hand on Catherine’s forehead confirmed the fever’s departure, but her good humor vanished when she saw the deep gash on the inside of Rian’s free arm. A memento from long fingernails at the height of a particularly frenzied delusion.
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