“Oh, but I do mind.” Gerard’s voice hinted at his tightly controlled anger. He glowered at Owen. “You heard the lady. She doesn’t wish to speak to you.”
Owen snatched a mug of ale off of the table and took a drink. He pointed at Gerard. “This man,” he said, addressing the large crowd. “This man is a thief.”
Low murmuring began throughout the Great Hall. Rowan held up a hand for silence. He stepped forward. “That is a strong accusation.”
“Aye, but it is the truth,” Owen insisted, gathering his courage. “This man,” he said, pointing once more at Gerard, who only glared in return,” stole something very dear to me.”
“What did he steal?” a man called from the back of the room.
Owen waited a moment for dramatic effect and then said, “My wife.”
The murmurs turned into a roar and Isabella’s heart sank as Eva pulled her aside. “I can’t believe you were married to that man,” she said, grimacing in Owen’s direction.
“Aye,” Isabella said softly, “neither can I.”
“Come.” Eva took her hand. “Let us leave and let the men sort this out.” She pulled Isabella from the room and then smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be in Owen’s shoes. Rowan looks as if he is about to explode and Gerard is close to throwing a punch.”
Isabella retired to her bedchamber and looked out the window at the falling snow. It was pretty, but she knew it wouldn’t stay. Tomorrow, more than likely, it would change back to rain, but she could enjoy it while it lasted.
The door to her room creaked open and she turned with a smile expecting to see Gerard. Her smile faded on her lips when she saw the identity of her visitor. Owen stood smirking at her just inside the door.
“You can’t be in here,” she hissed, as she rushed to push him out of her room.
“Oh, but I can,” he said, casting her an evil smile. “The castle is full and there is no other place for me. The laird decided that, as your husband, I should share your bedchamber.”
Isabella felt the sharp stab of betrayal. She had expected the laird to defend her, to take her side, but it appeared as if she had been sadly mistaken.
Owen sat down on the bed. “This is a large room. Much nicer than our tiny cottage.” He tested the mattress on the bed. “We should have a lot of fun tonight, aye, Isabella?”
“No,” she snapped, as she headed for the door. “We will not.” Once she reached the door, she turned back. “Keep the room. I will find other accommodations.”
“If you are speaking about your lover,” Owen drawled from his place on the bed, “don’t bother. The last I saw, he was speaking to one of the chamber maids and the two of them looked rather cozy.”
He patted the spot beside him. “It looks as if I will be the one to satisfy you tonight.”
“Never again, Owen,” Isabella said, as she stepped out the door, slamming it behind her. “Never again.”
The room was bathed in shadows. Firelight flickered on the ceiling and walls of the bedchamber. In the large bed, Isabella wrapped her arms around the warm man sleeping beside her and gave him a hug. It was only the second time she had awoken in Gerard’s bedchamber and she had to admit she was beginning to like it.
She began to trace patterns on his sculpted abs and then dipped lower to wrap her hand around his impressive member.
Gerard opened one sleepy eye and smiled. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”
Isabella moved her hand up and down his shaft until he moaned.
“Is this my Christmas gift,” his hissed, as she replaced her hand with her mouth. “Because if it is, it is a rather nice one.”
A knock on the door interrupted them. Gerard groaned and mumbled something about “perfect timing” but quickly got up from the bed and donned his clothes. He opened the door and spoke a few words to the person standing in the corridor, then turned back to Isabella.
“One of the scullery maids is in labor,” he said, lighting a candle on the bedside table.” He looked to where Isabella was sitting in bed, the long tresses of her hair hiding her nakedness. He sighed. “As much as it pains me to have to say this, your help has been requested.”
Isabella quickly dressed and stepped out into the corridor where a woman she recognized as the cook was waiting. “You need my help?”
“Aye,” the middle-aged woman said as they hurried along the corridor to the staircase and the floor below. “Tisn’t me, but poor Elspeth who needs your help. She went into labor before we were to begin meal preparations.”
Isabella followed the cook down a passageway and into the kitchen. Even though the hour was early, it was already bustling with activity. Today was Christmas and a feast was being prepared.
The woman ushered her into a windowless room off of the kitchen used for storage and closed the door. A young woman who was no more than a girl was lying on a cot in the corner. From the woman’s moan’s, Isabella could tell that she was already in labor.
Isabella walked to the cot and assessed her patient. The woman’s face was pale and a sheen of perspiration had broken out on her forehead.
“How long has she been in labor?” Isabella asked, turning to the cook who was hovering by the door.
“A little over an hour,” the middle-aged woman said, wringing her hands. “Elspeth lives in the village with her mother and shouldn’t have come to work today, but with it being Christmas, every hand was needed.”
Isabella nodded as she pulled back the blanket and examined the woman. If her guess was correct, the bairn would be here before long. She turned to the cook. “I will need water and Rosemary and a clean cloth to swaddle the babe in once it is delivered.”
The woman rushed to do her bidding, leaving Isabella alone with the expectant mother. “How old are you?” she asked the laboring woman.
“Fifteen.”
Is this your first child?” she asked once the girl’s contraction had subsided.
“Aye.” The young woman attempted to smile, but grimaced when another contraction quickly overtook her.
“What about the babe’s father?” Isabella asked as the young woman began to push. She could see the crown of the infant’s head and knew it wouldn’t be long before it was over.
“The bairn’s father is a soldier,” the girl panted as she pushed. “He is a married man and won’t acknowledge the child.”
Isabella’s mouth was set in a firm line as the infant’s head and shoulders emerged. She knew it was common for married men to father children outside of marriage, and the mother and child were often left to fend for themselves. It was a cold cruel world they lived in; that was for certain.
A few minutes later, the child slipped into the world. Isabella stared down in wonder at the infant in her arm. Covered in afterbirth and with its umbilical cord still attached, it was still the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
“It’s a girl.” She smiled at the new mother.”
The storage room door opened to admit the cook carrying a pitcher of water. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” the woman huffed. “But one of the new maids scorched the Christmas pudding.”
Her eyes widened at the sight of the infant in Isabella’s arms. She rushed over. “Let me have a look at the wee thing,” she said, her face wreathed in smiles.
“It’s a girl,” Isabella said, as she finished swaddling the baby who had begun to squirm. “And a healthy one at that.” She placed the infant in its mother’s arms and began to remove the dirty bedding.
“What a perfect Christmas,” the cook said with a tear in her eye. “A Christmas miracle.”
The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Gerard slipped out of the castle into the cold air. He walked to the lists, expecting to see it empty at this time of day, but was surprised to see Rowan already there, thrusting and lunging as he battled an invisible foe.
“I believe you are losing, cousin,” Gerard called, with a grin on his face.
Rowan stopped what he was doing and walked over t
o him with a smile. “Merry Christmas, cousin. What brings you out so early? I would have thought you would still be in bed with a lovely woman in your arms.”
Gerard scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed. “Aye, those were my plans, but they were interrupted. One of the scullery maid’s babe chose this moment to enter the world. Isabella is attending the birth.”
“Ah.” Rowan nodded in sympathy. “Let us pray the birth goes well and the infant arrives quickly, healthy and whole.” He lowered his head for a moment and was silent.
“What are you doing up so early?” Gerard asked after Rowan opened his eyes and lifted his head.
Rowan grinned. “I thought I would get a little training in before Eva drags me off to morning mass.”
Gerard groaned as he thought about the service he would be forced to attend. The sermons were usually enough to put a man to sleep and being that it was Christmas, it would be long and boring.
Rowan nodded at the sword in Gerard’s hand. “We should have a few more minutes before we are forced to go back inside.” He raised his own sword. “Care to join me?”
Gerard grinned. “Aye, cousin, I believe I will.”
Isabella rushed along the corridor. The sun had risen by the time she left both the new mother and infant to their rest. Elspeth had named her daughter Mary and with a headful of fiery red curls, she would no doubt grow up to be a beautiful lass.
She turned a corner into the dimly lit corridor leading to her room and bumped into someone. Opening her mouth to apologize, the words died on her lips.
Owen stood in front of her. He reached out to grasp her arm to prevent her from escaping and leered down at her. “Are you in too big of a hurry to watch where you are going?” His hand reached up to roughly grasp her breast. “Are you rushing to get to that man whose bed you have been keeping warm since you got here?”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Isabella hissed, as she pulled her arm away and took a step back. “There is nothing for you here.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong.” Owen recaptured her arm and pulled her into the bedchamber. “You are here,” he said, as he pushed her back on the bed. “And the pleasure I know I will find in your arms is here.” He yanked up the skirt of her dress, ripping it in the process.
Isabella fought hard. She had just managed to land a well-placed kick, when the bedchamber door crashed open and Gerard rushed inside. He grabbed Owen by the back of his tunic and hauled him off of her.
“I should kill you,” Gerard growled as he slammed the man against the wall.
Owen’s face turned red as he struggled. “She is my wife!” he spat. “Not yours.”
“Isabella is not legally your wife,” Gerard said, as he slammed the man once more against the stone wall for good measure before releasing him.
“Is she yours, my lord?” Owen sneered. “Have you wed her? Or is she just the whore you take to your bed?”
Gerard drew back his fist, but was stopped when Rowan entered the room. “Gerard! Enough!” Rowan’s voice was commanding and left little room for argument. Gerard stepped back but not before giving Owen a dark look.
“Good god, man.” Rowan gave Gerard an incredulous look. “Need I remind you it is Christmas?”
“Aye,” a disgruntled Owen said. “I was just saying Merry Christmas to my wife when he,” he pointed at Gerard, “interrupted.”
“Is that what you call it?” Isabella gave Owen a murderous look.
Rowan scrubbed a hand across his face as he assessed the situation. He finally turned to Isabella. “Do you wish for this man to leave?”
“Aye,” she said softly. “Nothing would make me happier.”
“Consider it done.” Rowan motioned to a guard who was standing in the hall. “Escort this man outside the castle walls and see that he does not return.”
“What about the coin you promised me?” Owen called as the guard began to haul him away. “I should receive something for my troubles.”
“Aye,” Rowan said darkly, “you should.” He turned to the guard. “Put him in the stocks and then release him in the morning and send him on his way.”
Gerard turned his back on Owen and pulled Isabella into his arms. “Did he hurt you, lass?” he murmured, as he stroked her hair.
“No,” Isabella said, as she snuggled in his arms. “You arrived just in time.”
“Ah, Bella,” Gerard rasped, as he leaned in for a kiss. “This isn’t the Christmas I wanted for you. I wanted it to be perfect.”
“It is perfect,” she said, gazing up into his handsome face. “At least it is now.”
“Let’s make it even more perfect, shall we?” Gerard said as he led her down the corridor in the direction of his bedchamber.
“I thought you would never ask,” Isabella murmured as she followed him inside the room and shut the door.
Chapter
Twelve
Isabella struggled from sleep and peered into the darkness of her bedchamber. Something had awoken her, and as she listened, she could hear the faint sound of movement outside the door.
A woman’s voice called her name softly.
Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she rose to open the bedchamber door. Eva stood in the dim light. Tears sparkled in her eyes and on her lashes and she was shivering in the cold.
Isabella flung the door opened wider and motioned for Eva to come inside her bedchamber and close to the fire, but Eva shook her head. “No, I can’t stay,” she said, wringing her hands in front of her. “I need your help.”
Isabella’s eyes widened in surprise. It was obvious from Eva’s expression that there was something wrong and she immediately thought of the children. Anne had been coughing at bedtime and wee Nicholas had been running a slight fever.
Isabella grabbed a cover off of her bed and threw it around her shoulders. Next she put on her thin soled slippers before she hurried back to the door where Eva was waiting. “Is something wrong with the children? Are they ill?”
Eva shook her head as they hurried down the corridor. “No, Anne’s coughing has eased and Nicholas’s fever broke some time during the night.”
She stopped outside her bedchamber door. The door was open a crack and the sound of labored breathing could be heard. “It is Rowan I am worried about. His skin is hot to the touch and he has been mumbling incoherently.”
Isabella’s breath caught as she entered the dimly lit bedchamber. A fire burned low in the grate, but it was the man on the bed that drew her attention. Rowan Mackenzie moaned as his bloodshot eyes looked in their direction. His skin was slick with sweat and even though it was obvious his fever was quite high, he was deathly pale.
Isabella’s heart jumped into her throat as she moved to the laird’s side. She placed her hand against his forehead and just as she suspected, it burned to the touch.
“Can you help him?” Eva asked, as she moved to stand beside her. There was a desperate note to her voice. “I have never seen him like this. Rowan has always been the strong one and rarely falls ill.”
She paused to wipe the tears that were now flowing freely down her cheeks. “I can’t lose him, Isabella. I don’t know what I would do without him. I would be lost. I can’t make it here without him by my side.”
“When did his symptoms start,” Isabella asked in a calm voice.
“Just after the evening meal. Rowan complained of a headache and stomach pain and retired early.”
Isabella remembered seeing the laird Christmas evening. He had been unusually quiet, his warm smile noticeably absent. She had thought he might have a lot on his mind. Managing a castle and the surrounding lands couldn’t be easy, but now she could see it had been more than that.
“I will go to the north tower and see if I can find any herbs in the healer’s chamber that might be of any use,” Isabella said, as she moved toward the door.
“Isabella?” Eva called in a tear choked voice.
She turned.
“Please, hurry.”
The healer’s room in the north tower was dark and cold. The shutters on the window had been left open and a harsh wind blew inside, causing the flame on the candle Isabella held in her hand to sway and dance before it guttered out completely.
Using the light from the moon, Isabella crept across the floor to the cupboard against the wall. Her feet crunched on broken pottery and with a sinking heart, she realized that someone had rifled through the cupboard’s contents, spilling precious herbs onto the floor.
A vague memory stirred. She had witnessed the governess and the constable exiting the tower a few days ago. At the time, she hadn’t thought anything of it. Both of them were young and the tower room had become a popular trysting spot since the healer’s death.
She reached in and pulled out one of the remaining containers. Lifting the lid, she saw that it was a tincture containing Burdock. It wasn’t her first choice in treating a fever, but it would have to do.
Isabella carefully navigated the uneven steps of the spiral staircase to the floor below. Making her way quickly through the Great Hall, she climbed the staircase to the second floor and hurried down the corridor to the laird’s chamber. Pushing open the door, she stepped inside to find Eva pacing. “How is he?” she asked, even though one glance at the man on the bed told her that the laird’s condition had worsened in the short time she had been gone.
“Rowan is unconscious,” Eva whispered. “I tried to wake him, but to no avail.”
“Can you lift the laird’s head?” Isabella asked, as she moved to the bedside. Opening the container, she waited for Eva to do her bidding so that he wouldn’t choke and then dribbled a few drops into the laird’s mouth. When she was satisfied that he had ingested enough, she placed the container on the bedside table.
“Do you think it will work?” Eva whispered.
“I hope so,” Isabella said, even though in her heart she knew she couldn’t be certain. She walked to the bedchamber door and then turned. “Let me know if his condition changes.”
Loving A Highlander Page 11