“In here, milord,” the healer said, hurrying to sweep back the curtain to his exam room.
Cailean carried her into the room and laid her gently on the padded table. Her face was flushed a dull red from the heat and damp hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead.
“I’ll have my helper fill the tub,” the healer said. “She needs to be cooled.”
“Then be quick about it,” Cailean snapped. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and began rolling up the sleeves. “Give me a basin and cloth for now.”
“Aye, milord!”
By the time the Healer filled a white porcelain basin and brought it to the table, Cailean had stripped the day gown from Lorna and was removing her chemise.
“Shall I fetch her brother?” the healer inquired. He held the basin as Cailean thrust his hands into the water to get the washcloth.
“She’s my responsibility now, not his,” Cailean said as he gently applied the cloth to Lorna’s face. “What you can do is get her a glass of iced water.”
Guilt rode Cailean McGregor as it never had before. He had cared for his wife Libby but he had never loved her. She had been betrothed to him at birth to tie the McGregor and Shaw families together as they had not been for several generations. Though she had been a pretty woman, she had been a silly one and one given to bouts of crying and wringing of hands each time he demanded his husbandly rights. Twice she had run home to her mother and twice he had been forced to punish her for if a man could not control his woman, he did not have the respect of the clan. His punishments—five passes of his belt on her bare backside—had been light compared to most of the men of the Hill. There were those who said he was too lenient with her. When she came up missing, he was relieved for it was not his intention to wed again.
Until the laird had chosen him as leader of the clan and then the matter had been taken out of his hands.
“There is one remaining Tabor woman and we have set into motion a plan to bring her to the Hill,” Elder Jubal told him. “I would see you Joined with her before I breathe my last.”
Shocked by the order, Cailean had no choice but to agree. “I will do as you ask, milord,” he said. Although humbled by the command, he nevertheless resented it. He had no desire to pit his will against another headstrong woman. Life was too short to endure such misery and the constant fight to claim his conjugal rights.
“And with her as your bride, you will assume the mantle of laird of the Tabor clan and produce for us a male child.”
Shock turned to stunned surprise as he stared at the Elder. “Me?” he questioned, feeling the blood drain from his face.
“You have always been like a son to me, Cailean,” Elder Jubal said. “I am passing the care of our clan into your hands where I know it will be safe.”
“Milord, I am unworthy of such an honor!” he had protested.
“I will have none other than you replace me.”
The die had been cast. Cailean had bowed to the wishes of Elder Jubal and would soon be given entrance into the Tribunal of Elders. That honor must be achieved before he could Join with Lorna and the ceremony to induct him was to be later that night.
Plunging the cloth into the cold water again, he wrung it out then began working his way down his intended’s neck and across her bare shoulders. She groaned but did not awaken. Her lips were white and cracked.
“Did no one take her water?” he demanded of the healer when the man brought a tall goblet to the table.
“I am sure they did, milord,” the healer answered although his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely positive that had been the case.
“They’ll regret it if they didn’t,” Cailean muttered. “Is that tub ready?” He tossed the cloth into the basin.
“It is almost filled, milord.”
Carefully, gently, Cailean eased his arms under her back and legs and lifted her from the table. The healer stepped forward to draw aside the curtain, extending an arm to indicate Cailean was to precede him from the examining room.
The healer’s help was pouring the last bucket of cold spring water into the copper tub when Cailean carried Lorna into the bathing chamber. He knelt and laid her tenderly into the icy-cold water. Almost immediately her eyelashes fluttered open but there was no true recognition in her eyes. They stared helplessly, alarmed into his.
“We need to get your body temperature down,” he said softly as he drew his arms from beneath her. He frowned for she just lay there without trying to cover herself, to keep him from looking at her nakedness. That did not bode well for her frame of mind. He glanced up at the healer. “I want a buckboard readied with a soft mattress and clean sheets, a pillow. I’ll be taking her to my place as soon as she can travel.”
“Aye, milord,” the healer agreed. “I’ll see to it straightaway.” When he would have turned away, Cailean called out to him.
“And send a runner to Maggie Tabor and tell her I will need women to watch over my lady while I am at the induction tonight and make sure my brother knows what’s happening.”
“Aye, milord!”
The healer’s assistant had already departed the room but had scooted a small stool over for Cailean to sit on beside the tub. He hooked his toe in a rung and drew the seat closer, perching on it as he reached for Lorna’s hand. That she made no move to draw it back but continued to stare unseeingly at him worried him all the more. He reached down to push a tress of her hair from her cheek.
“You’ll be all right,” he said. “I’ll take good care of you.”
Lorna said nothing. She didn’t even blink. Her gaze was locked on him without expression in her dull eyes. Her finely-shaped lips were parted, her face lax.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to keep them from putting you in that hellish place,” he explained, “but I had gone to see my grandmother.” He caressed her face. “I brought your wedding gown back with me. I’ve decided to move the Joining up to tomorrow night.”
There was a slight flicker of her eyes but nothing more to indicate she had heard and understood his words.
“I would have it tonight but there is another matter that needs seeing to,” he told her. He ran his free hand up and down her arm, scooping water up to cool her flesh. He tried not to stare at her breasts or the dark triangle beneath the water but his attention was drawn to both and the sight made him hard and aching.
For half an hour she lay in the tub until he was satisfied she was no longer overheated. He called for the healer to bring a thick towel as he lifted her from the water. As gently as though she were an infant he placed her feet on the floor—hoping she would not slump to the wooden planks—then began to towel her dry as the healer gave him instructions on making sure she had plenty of fluid intake. The man left but returned directly.
“I brought one of my lady-wife’s gowns and some undergarments for her to wear, milord,” the healer said. “I didn’t think you’d want to her to dress in the soiled one.”
“No, I didn’t and thank you, Healer Stuart, I am in your debt,” Cailean said. He took a pair of panties and a chemise from the healer who had the gown draped over his arm.
“I sent Timmy over to the jail to fetch her shoes.” The healer turned to pick up the footwear from a shelf then bent to place them beside Lorna’s feet. “And the buckboard is ready whenever you are.”
Cailean nodded. With infinite gentleness he knelt before her with the panties in hand. “Lift your foot, dearling,” he said and when she didn’t—or wouldn’t—he circled her ankle with his fingers and lifted her foot to place it in one of the leg holes. He repeated the gesture then drew the garment up her legs, striving not to gawk at the dark patch between her legs. He got to his feet and drew the gathered chemise over her head. With the healer’s help, they got her arms in the soft cotton garment and Cailean smoothed it down her hips before he took the gown from the healer.
“There is one last thing you can do for me,” Cailean said.
“Anything you need, milord,” the healer replied.
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“I’d like a bottle of laudanum in case she has trouble sleeping.”
The healer didn’t question the request but hurried to fetch the drug.
“I’m taking you to your new home,” Cailean said and swept Lorna into his arms. He carried her out of the bathing room and into the waiting area. The healer opened the door then stepped back as the young man carried his intended out of the cabin and to the waiting buckboard. His horse, Saoirse, was tied to the back of the conveyance.
“Lady Maggie said she’d be waiting at your place, Cail,” Sam Reid said. He looked at Lorna with a hurt expression. “Is she all right?”
“She’ll be just fine,” Cailean replied. “Get in the back and I’ll hand her to you.”
Sam swung his legs over the buckboard seat and cautiously made his way to the rear of the conveyance so as not to disturb the bedding. He leaned over, took Lorna from Cailean’s arms then turned to lay her down.
“Be gentle with her,” Cailean instructed.
The sun was lowering on the horizon as Cailean hopped up into the back of the buckboard and settled down beside Lorna with his back against the side rail. Sam returned to the seat and bent forward to pick up the reins, clucking his tongue to set the two mares pulling the vehicle into motion.
“Make sure she gets lots to drink now,” the healer called out as the buckboard started up the winding road.
From across the way, Daniel Brent watched McGregor and Sam until the buckboard was lost in the darkening shadows of twilight. He stood with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his black gabardine trousers, shoulders hunched. A part of him wanted to run after the buckboard, to save his sister from her fate, but he knew he would only be prolonging the inevitable. From the moment he had arrived on Tabor Hill, he had known he had found his destiny and that destiny was larger than the priesthood he had believed was his calling.
“You are of noble blood, Daniel,” Elder Jubal had told him. “You are a Tabor clansman.”
The truth had shocked Daniel and he had denied it for as long as he could. One trip to Lady Belle McGregor’s cabin deep in the forest had shown him the truth of the matter. He’d seen small tin types of Tabors from long gone, little paintings from lockets and even a large canvas of Alinor Tabor, the wife of the first laird of the clan. The moment he had laid eyes on that ancient painting, every question he’d entertained had been answered.
“This is our true heritage, Lorna,” he said softly. “We can no more fight it than stop breathing.”
Not that he wanted to fight it, he thought as he turned away. All his life he had felt as though he didn’t belong. Now he knew why. He belonged here—on the Hill—with the men of his mother’s real family. He didn’t belong in the priesthood. Not here. Not on the Hill. No one came to Mass so what was the use? As he walked back to the rectory, he made the decision to close the church. He could say his prayers just as easily on his knees by his bed as he could from the altar. With one last look at the empty road down which the buckboard carrying his sister had passed, he turned his back on his past and with a spring to his step, took a different route to his future.
* * * *
Maggie Tabor and her sister Sadie McFadden were standing on the porch of Cailean’s house when the buckboard pulled to a halt. Sadie was holding a lantern so she stepped off the porch, holding the lantern aloft so the men could see.
“How is she?” Sadie asked.
“Hasn’t said a word,” Cailean replied.
“We’ve got your clothes laid out for you,” Maggie told him. “You’d best make haste to get yourself cleaned up. I packed a couple of sandwiches for you to eat on your way back to the settlement.”
“I appreciate it, Maggie,” Cailean said as he hopped down from the buckboard. “I’ll wash off real quick then be on my way.”
Sam was in the back of the buckboard, bending down to pick up Lorna. He carried her to the tailgate Cailean lowered and handed her into McGregor’s care. He told Cailean he’d untie Saoirse for him then take the buckboard back to the settlement.
“Thanks,” Cailean said absently.
“We changed the sheets on your bed, Cail,” Sadie stated. “Everything’s all ready for her.”
“Jubal sent a couple of men to watch over us while you’re gone,” Maggie added as she hastened to open the screen door for him. “They’re patrolling the yard.”
“I’m much obliged,” Cailean replied. He carried Lorna onto the porch and into his cabin. “She hasn’t eaten anything.”
“She’s one of us, Cail,” Maggie said, following him into the good-sized bedroom—the only one in the four-room cabin. “We’ll take care of her. There’s no need for you to worry.”
The chenille spread had been laid back so he placed Lorna in the same bed in which he and his twin and five other generations of McGregor men had been born. He pulled the sheet and spread over her, adjusted the covers, then leaned down to kiss her forehead.
“I won’t be back until sunset tomorrow,” he told her. “But you won’t be alone. Maggie and Sadie will be with you and there are menfolk around to keep the demon away.”
Lorna stared up at him without blinking, without even the tiniest flicker of recognition in her green eyes. She lay as still as death—barely breathing—with her arms limp upon the covers.
Reluctantly, he turned away. He would have little time to wash off and dress in the black clothing the sisters had readied for him. He thanked them again, took the clothes with him into the bathroom and shut the door.
“We’re right here with you, Lorna,” Maggie said. She fussed with the spread covering the younger woman. “Are you hungry?”
“Let’s allow her to rest, sister,” Sadie said. “I’m thinking she probably isn’t ready for food right now.”
“You’re most likely right, sister,” Maggie agreed. She patted Lorna’s hand then left the room, easing the door almost closed behind their departure.
Lorna lay perfectly still for a few moments more then her head slowly shifted toward the sounds coming from behind the bathroom door and held. Her anger and resentment was a sentient life form seething in the heated glare of her hard green eyes.
Chapter Six
Maggie was on the front porch in a rocker, crocheting an afghan, and Sadie was inside cooking the evening meal when Cailean returned to his cabin late in the afternoon the next day. He was tired from having been up all night and his body was sore from the intense ceremony that had made him one of the Elders. He nodded to Maggie then took his horse to the barn to unsaddle the beast and rub him down, feed him a bucket of oats. By the time he was finished, he was limping as he came up the porch steps.
“I asked Sadie to heat water for your bath,” Maggie told him, giving him a commiserating look. “Would you like to bathe first before you eat?”
“I want to look in on Lorna first,” he said, reaching for the handle of the screen door. “How is she?”
The older woman lay the crocheting in her lap and frowned. “Hasn’t said a word to either of us and refuses to eat. She just lays there staring at the ceiling.” She tucked her lower lip between her teeth. “I worry for her state of mind, Cailean.”
“She’s stronger than she looks,” he said. “’Tis nothing more than sulking on her part I believe. She’ll get over it. We’ll just give her time to grow accustomed to the situation.”
“You know best,” Maggie said although the tone of her voice said she had her doubts on the matter.
He went into the cabin and to the bedroom where Lorna lay so still on the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and easy. He thought at first she was asleep so leaned over to brush his lips to hers. She didn’t move but he felt the tightening of her flesh under his.
“I know you’re awake,” he said. He laid his palm on her cheek but she didn’t react to his touch. He caressed her flesh—smoothing his thumb over her full lower lip—then sighed deeply when she did not react. He removed his hand and straightened, turning his back to begin
stripping off his sweaty clothing. He looked toward the bathroom when he heard the sound of water splashing into the tub.
Lorna watched him surreptitiously as he undressed. He had a powerful body with wide shoulders and long, tapered legs. There was no denying he was handsome and virile but the sight of him sickened her. The thought of him having taken her against her will brought such raging hatred to her breast it was all she could do not to scream her fury at him. She wanted to rake her nails down his broad back, claw at his face, drive her knee into the manhood with which he had defiled her.
He turned to look at her. “The Joining will be tonight at midnight,” he told her as he walked toward the bathroom. “That is the traditional time.”
Still she said nothing. Did not move by as much as a blink. Not until he closed the door and she heard him climb into the tub did she turn her head toward the iron-barred window.
“Where are you Chrysty?” she silently asked once again, despondent that the demon had yet to appear to her. “Why aren’t you here?”
Of course, she knew why he had not come. She had yet to ask his help. As soon as she begged his assistance, she knew he would appear and when he did, he would expect her to sign her soul into his keeping.
Fear of eternal damnation wasn’t the only thing keeping her from pleading for his aid. She feared the power he would wield over her once she gave herself to him. She feared the power the witch goddess would grant her once she had joined the Sisterhood.
“Power to crush your enemies and set right the wrongs done to you,” a soft feminine voice whispered in her mind. “Ask and I will allow him to come to you.”
“You’re keeping him away?” she asked in her mind.
“Ask and I will allow him to come to you,” the voice repeated.
Lorna looked away from the door—turning her face so she stared at the ceiling once again. The sounds of Cailean bathing as though he’d not a care in the world, as though he had not degraded her made her grind her teeth together. She dug her fingernails into the chenille spread, her entire body as rigid as an iron nail.
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