~ ~ ~
Cortland beamed when he found Meggie in the corridor. “I have fine tidings this morn. Mary’s fever is gone.”
Meggie squealed and threw her body at him and hugged him hard. “‘Tis the best news I have heard in too many days. Would you tell Declan, or should I?”
“See to Emma and Mary as you intended. I will speak with Declan. It has been a day since we have had words. We have much to discuss.” Cortland stayed in the corridor long enough to witness Meggie confirm the absence of fever and coo and fuss over Mary. After five long days, joy was a fine sight to behold.
With a knock to Declan’s chamber door, Cortland waited to see if the man had finally decided to sleep. With no reply, he knocked again. Still met with silence, he tried the handle, certain the door would be locked if Declan were asleep inside. If it opened, he would look elsewhere for the man.
The door would not budge, yet Declan had failed to reply; the man always replied. Banging on the door, he yelled for Declan to answer as cold settled in his belly. With his ear to the door, he heard the rustle of small movements and waited for what seemed an eternity for the sound of the bolt to slide, followed by a large thud.
Not waiting to be bid to enter, Cortland pushed against the wooden door with all his might until it opened enough for him to slide in. His gaze fell to the body blocking the door, and he reached to touch Declan’s head. A curse left his lips when he felt the heat and realized the laird had fever.
~ ~ ~
Declan opened his eyes only to close them as the cough wracked his body with enough force to make it hard to breathe. Dizziness passed over him while he drew a shallow breath and was assaulted by the noxious aroma of mint and the floral scent of her hair. Despite his anger, Declan took a swallow of the cup raised to his lips and voiced a curse for the foul taste.
“Oh, come on. You can barely taste the herbs mixed in the soup,” Emma said as she removed the cup. “Mary is still fine with no trace of fever for two days. She is arguing that she wants out of bed.”
His fever-bogged mind processed her words slowly. He knew Mary was healing, such words had already filled his ears, but to hear them again was a fine thing. Or would have been from a different messenger. “Why are you here?” he croaked as he batted away the hand that touched a cool cloth to his head.
“Because you are sick, and Cortland needed to sleep. He has been with you for the last two days, and no one wanted you to be alone.” Emma moved his hand aside to allow her ministrations.
“I dinna want you here, lass. You are naught but a liar.” With an attempt to add harshness to his weak voice, he snarled, “You are no longer welcome on my lands. Have the man you call father take you from here now.”
“I know this is the fever talking, but what do you think I have lied about? Honestly, now is not the right time to pick a fight with me.” Her soft laughter rang in his ears.
Another cough took its toll, and it was a bit before he had the strength to reply. “Did you think I would nay hear of it? The whole of the village speaks of your whoring ways with Merrick. Did you think me such a fool? One who has known more women than you have ever met would have quickly discovered a lie over innocence. Whatever you sought to gain, wealth or position, you will have none.” His tirade led to another round of coughing, but no soft hands reached out to aid him, which suited him fine.
Even now she tries to trick me with false hurt on her face. “I wanted nothing from you, nothing like that. You’re the one who kept insisting that . . .” She rose from the chair by his bed. “And you believed every word spoken?”
That she questioned him with such a timid voice led him to believe she was better at deception than he could have ever imagined. “I ken the truth when I hear it, whore.”
“How dare you? Heaven forbid you ask me for the truth. Fine, I’ll leave and have Meggie send someone else to take care of your stubborn ass.” He wasn’t able to see her leave but heard her limping steps and a strange flopping noise.
“Be gone from my lands and stay away from my daughter. She should nay be in your company.” Declan wanted to shout but heard only a harsh whisper leave his parched lips.
“Do us both a favor and just go to sleep,” Emma stated from across the chamber. “Maybe when the fever breaks you’ll be human again.”
How dare she not believe my threats and take my demands seriously? If I could stand, I would toss her outside the gates and lock them forever. He couldn’t even manage to sit up enough to be imposing. He only wanted Emma to feel the hurt and betrayal that haunted his soul. Forcing his body to lean up on his elbow, he said, “I have never had so much gratitude for my child to be ill. Her fever saved me from a lifetime of regret. And the laird was correct, Emma. There is little on you to hold my attentions.”
“You’re both asses,” she called, stomping from his chamber.
He was only irritated she hadn’t bothered to close the door as the fever dragged him down into blackness.
~ ~ ~
“I said leave, lass,” Declan whispered hoarsely, attempting to push the cool cloth from his brow.
Declan attempted to force the unwanted care away, but his hands were batted down as if they were dead leaves blowing in the wind. “You must be mad with fever if you think me a lass.” Cortland’s voice filtered through the fog in his mind.
He chuckled even as he tried to remember why he was surprised at Cortland’s presence. “Why are you here, old man?”
“You have chased everyone else away from your chamber. Apparently yelling and calling all by foul names is no way to treat those who serve you.” Declan heard only Cortland’s cold, harsh voice.
Declan knew he had yelled but thought it only at Emma, and he believed she deserved the whole of his wrath. “I dinna want you here,” Declan said, pushing the cloth off his head, suddenly recalling his fury at the man and his poor excuse for a daughter.
“Too bad. I’m the only one left who will dare to step foot in your chamber.” Cortland propped Declan up to replace the sweat-soaked pillows with cool fresh ones. As the older man eased him back down, he offered him a sip of the herb-laced soup. “I am missing three men.”
“I sent them to Malcolm to fetch me a bride,” Declan answered with what he hoped was a sneer, the most he could muster. Shifting the blanket at his waist, he asked, “How much time has passed?”
“You have ten days before the day of your birth is marked,” Cortland answered. “Why did you send the men without telling me?”
With great effort, he turned his head to stare into hard pale blue eyes. Even fevered, Declan knew the man asked questions to which he already had answers. “I have no trust in you. You claimed the lying bitch, and your loyalty is to her and nay me.”
“You must be delusional if you refer to Emma. We both ken that lass has no skill for lies as her face always reveals the truth.” That Cortland spoke nonsense infuriated him. Somewhere in his thoughts he remembered Emma’s face told all. Even her face lies.
Declan closed his eyes. “The village women and the men speak of it, how she spent the night with Merrick the eve before battle. When I spoke with Merrick, he confirmed it all. Your daughter is a lying whore.”
“And you believed him?” Cortland asked with a chuckle that held no merriment. “‘Tis an odd thing you would have so much faith in a man we all ken you dinna trust. A man who waits for you to fail so he may have the lands his father would abandon. I will nay even comment on you listening to the old women at the well. But tell me, why should it even matter to you?”
“The lass tried to trick me. We sat here drinking after the battle, and we talked long into the night. Emma made me trust her.” Declan forced the grin onto his dried lips, even as he felt them crack, if only to anger Cortland. “I had her in my bed, and she told me she was innocent. The fool that I am, I offered to c
laim her. I could have been trapped by that whore if nay for Byron coming to tell me Mary was ill.”
Cortland leaned over him, and his hostility chilled the air. “If you were nay sick, I would beat you for touching my daughter. Emma is beyond your reach in all ways. Any father would be justified at the anger I carry for you. You fed her whiskey all night and then took advantage of her. You disgust me.”
He barely managed to choke out, “You play the game too well. She is nay your daughter. What did you hope to gain? Was it wealth? Were the lands I gifted you nay enough?” He hated that the last question came out as weak and betrayed by the hurt over Cortland’s plot.
“I have heard enough,” Cortland said, rising from the bedside chair. “Sick or nay, how dare you accuse me of being anything other than loyal to you? I have served the clan with honor the whole of my life.”
“Take the whore and leave these lands. You dinna serve me any longer,” Declan ordered with his hoarse whisper.
“Fine. We leave at first light. I serve no one who doubts my word. But so you ken it all, I will speak. You are the greatest of fools. Go ahead and trust Merrick, mayhap he will tend you and nay smother you with your pillow,” Cortland snarled, leaning over him. “Emma is no liar. She spent that night in her chamber after slapping Merrick for attempting to steal more than a kiss. Her early morn was spent with me on the training fields, as is every morn. The lass I claim as daughter has lived a sheltered life as you ken. There has been no man, ever. She told you the truth.”
Declan felt Cortland’s shadow loom over him when the man stood to full height. “I am pleased beyond telling you were interrupted that night. Emma deserves far better than the likes of you.” Footsteps echoed as booted feet stomped to the door. “By the way, the messengers you sent rode back in late this morn. Malcolm could nay meet with them as the sickness also plagues his lands. Are you surprised to hear his wife refused your offer? When you are thrown off your lands, dinna come to mine.”
The fog of the fever swam in his head, and his throat could not swallow for the dryness in his mouth; so Declan gratefully let the blackness begin to consume him. No man ever wanted to hear where he went wrong. Not completely certain of what he believed—what was lies and what was a dream—he was only aware that again no one had closed the door.
~ ~ ~
There were too many voices whispering beyond his ability to ascertain the words. His stuffed ears buzzed with no information and caused his head to ache. If there were reasons he was supposed to care, he could no longer recall them.
“He has nay woken for over a day. You can nay leave, Cortland,” Meggie pleaded. “Think of Mary. What will become of her?”
“The laird told me to leave, so I will,” Cortland replied.
“Dinna think to fool me. You have packed naught, and Emma spends her days with Mary. Your daughter will nay be pulled away from the child so easily. Once Declan is healed, peace can once again be found. The fever spoke in anger, nay your laird,” Meggie implored, gripping Cortland’s arm. “Too many are too ill to be of aid. There is barely a week before Glenn comes to claim these lands.”
“Cortland,” Declan whispered. He doubted his voice carried enough to call the man, but he sighed as a hand touched his bare arm. “Take Mary with you. With my death, I leave her to face Glenn alone.”
“I’m only still here because of Mary, and I hear your plea,” Cortland replied. “I can take her with us, but should the man find us, I will have no legal claim to her.”
Visions of his daughter filled Declan’s clouded thoughts, and an idea filled him. “You need a contract, something better than Glenn’s. I will sign whatever you bring me.”
“The only contract that would have greater standing would be a carefully worded marriage contract, one that would give your wife claim to the child. Unfortunately, there is no wife.”
Declan fumbled before his hand found the one resting on his arm, and then he gripped it to keep him rooted in consciousness. “Ask Emma. She once swore she would do anything to protect Mary. Dinna try to hold the keep. Take the coin I keep hidden, you ken where, and flee. There is enough to buy you lands far from here.”
“I think marrying you may be further than Emma is willing to go for the child.” Cortland’s distaste for the idea rang loud and clear even in his muddled mind.
“I agree, given my last words to her. She will be a happy widow. Ask it of her. She loves Mary and would nay leave her to an uncertain future,” Declan whispered, hoping he was correct.
“Meggie, fetch me some parchment and ink and tell Emma to join me,” he heard Cortland command. “I do this for Mary’s sake and my pledge to your father, you ken that, aye?”
“Aye,” Declan grunted as sleep won just before his hand fell from Cortland’s arm.
~ ~ ~
The drink choked him, and most of it fell from his lips to wet his chest. The stench of herbs and chicken filled his nose before a light floral scent washed it away. “Emma . . . wife?” The whisper burned his throat.
He felt the mess wiped from his whiskered chin and chest with a cool cloth before water sloshed, followed by the sound of droplets being wrung from the cloth. A sigh escaped him as the cloth found its way to his forehead. “Only to keep Mary safe,” Emma’s voice called to him.
“You will take her away?” Declan asked as his eyes tried to bring her blurry shape into focus.
“I’d give you my word, but we both know how little that means to you,” Emma mumbled as she smoothed the cloth over his heated neck. Even weak, he heard the unmistakable betrayal of hurt in her voice.
“I believe you. I have no doubt of your love for her.” Declan turned his head into the cool wet cloth and savored the momentary relief it brought while he waited for her to say something. When nothing came, he whispered, “My last words to you were harsh. Forgive me before I die.”
“I’ll forgive you if it makes you rest easier. As for dying, we’re doing everything possible to prevent . . .” Emma’s voice trailed off, but he heard her kind, soft tone and allowed himself the luxury of believing every word she spoke.
“What is your truth?” Some part of him still wondered who could be trusted even if the rest of him only wished to sleep.
“It doesn’t matter.” He felt the loss of the cloth, and droplets could again be heard. Cool again comforted his head as she added, “It’s truly none of your concern, but I never lie.”
Declan nodded as well as he was able. With all his concentration, he lifted a hand that seemed to weigh more than a large boulder and floundered until he felt Emma grip his. “Stay with me, wife. I have no wish to die alone.”
Aware of the soft skin surrounding his hand, Declan fell back into darkness with Emma’s voice echoing in his head. “You won’t die, Declan. I refuse to watch anyone die ever again.”
~ ~ ~
The knock at the door pulled Emma from the restless sleep in the chair next to Declan’s bed. Noting the darkness in the chamber, a second married night had begun. She only knew it was the worst honeymoon anyone had ever endured. Wondering who would knock, she walked to the door with her sword in hand. Again, she doubted the bad guys would knock, but she knew to be better safe than sorry.
The knock again sounded as someone on the other side attempted to open the latch. All seemed to know that if Declan was in a chamber he always locked the door behind. At first, she had thought him paranoid, but given the risks presented by his uncle, she saw it as a valid precaution. The part that bothered her was that whoever it was, they hadn’t announced themselves. Cortland and Meggie always announced themselves, and few others dared to come anywhere near the door after Declan’s first two days of fever and hateful name-calling.
Emma’s heart rushed in her chest, and she feared that someone had come to tell her Cortland was ill. While he had been seemingly healthy, too
many were still falling ill. Their preparations filled her thoughts as she prayed bad news was not on the proverbial doorstep. If Cortland were ill, she was supposed to leave immediately with Mary and William. William would take her to Cortland’s lands, and then they would disappear.
Emma blinked away the thought as the knock came louder than before. Sliding back the bolt that had been an obstacle of immense proportion when drunk, she opened the door to face Merrick. His eyes widened at the sight of her then narrowed until his otherwise handsome face sneered at her.
“What are you doing here?” Merrick snarled.
“I was about to ask you the same question,” Emma retorted, stepping partially into the corridor with her arm and weapon tucked behind the door. Merrick was the last person she wanted to see. The staff within the keep had been threatened with banishment if a word were uttered about Declan being struck with fever. It seemed to be keeping the news from the village.
“Is Declan inside?” Merrick asked, trying to walk past her.
Holding out her hand, she pressed against his hard chest. “He’s not seeing anyone right now.” Emma squared her shoulders at the lack of a lie.
“Yet he sees you?” Merrick’s gaze swept her from head to toe, taking in her leather pants, linen shirt, and bare feet.
She scowled at the lack of approval on his face as she reached to push the loose hair from her face. The nap had left her rumpled with a partially undone braid. “If you need something, my da is in the hall this time of day.”
“Does your da ken where you spend your eve’s, lass? After the tongue-lashing he gave me, I doubt he would approve you warming Declan’s bed,” Merrick sneered.
At any other point in time, she would have told the man off and defended her honor. However, she was a key part in keeping the clan’s weakness a secret. Does everyone always need to assume I am warming someone’s bed?
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