Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy)

by McGoldrick, May

  “So it appears. I think his impatience with the confinement, added to a constant melancholy that plagued him, inhibited the progress. He is a man whose spirit cannot be fettered or shut in. Instead of improving, Gibbs told me, he became worse, and the various medicines from the physicians did nothing to make him better.” Ohenewaa could not hide her disgust. “There was no effort made to exercise and strengthen the limbs, but only to keep him confined in a bed or a chair. There was no one to clear and challenge his mind. Instead, he was kept subdued and out of the way. If you tie the legs of the great lion and keep him in a dark hole, he will soon refuse to eat. And then he will die. Kill the spirit, and the noblest of creatures will die.”

  Having lived with Lyon for over a month, Millicent understood more than ever how a situation like that would have killed him. The dowager’s plea to her that first day to marry him made so much sense to her now. The old woman knew what was happening to her son.

  “True, they managed to save his limbs, but in the process they were cutting off the sustenance he needed to live.”

  “What can be done for him now?” Millicent asked.

  “He does not want to believe it, but there is no saying that he shan’t be able to regain more movement in his limbs. Considering the extent of his injuries, the length of time he has been healing is short.”

  “One thing my husband lacks is patience. Is there anything that might help his body and not dull his mind?”

  “I already have given him an ointment I call Matthiolus salve. ‘Tis good for all pains in the joints. Something better than that would be an ointment of leopard’s bane, but I do not have all that I need to mix that here. Jonah tells me, though, that the apothecary shop in St. Albans might have what is required.”

  “Leopard’s bane. Even the name sounds fitting,” Millicent said wryly. “I shall send someone for it today. And if you need anything else, that can be purchased as well.”

  “Another way of helping him is to force him to move those joints.”

  “Do you mean having someone else move them for him?”

  She shrugged. “I already know no one could force him to sit through any exercise like that unless he himself is willing. But if he can be persuaded, he may heal more quickly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All the ointments will do is help to warm and stimulate the joints. For him to walk again, though, he needs to ignore the voice in his head that says he cannot. Your husband’s body is healing, but he does not believe it.”

  Millicent’s head reeled with all this information. This was not at all what she had been expecting a month ago. Everything was changing so quickly, but this was not the time to confuse herself with the thoughts of that.

  “Do you really believe that he has a chance to recover fully?”

  Ohenewaa nodded her head. “You are the only one who can persuade him to do things that he resists doing. ‘Tis in your hands to nurture his spirit to health, too.”

  *****

  The afternoon’s sun was still bright and warm through the single window of the steward’s office, and Lyon stretched with pleasure at the feel of it. The farms’ books lay open in front of him. He looked up as Gibbs and the bailiff, Jonah, entered the room.

  Lyon looked at the young bailiff. He was not a big man, but he looked strong and his eyes were clear and intelligent. From what Lyon had heard from Millicent, Jonah had been outspoken and somewhat rebellious during his servitude to Wentworth, and he had suffered greatly for it. Still, he had managed to establish himself as a leader among the workers at Melbury Hall, and Millicent had apparently trusted him. Since being made bailiff, though, he had not yet shown the confidence that the position required. It must be difficult, Lyon thought, to go from the depths of slavery to a position of authority. Who could blame the man if he took a while to feel comfortable in his new role?

  Lyon noticed the amity that already existed between Gibbs and Jonah. A good thing, he thought.

  “Gibbs and her ladyship both speak highly of you, Jonah,” Lyon said after the initial introductions. “What do you say we put our heads together about these properties?”

  Together, the three of them discussed Melbury Hall’s farms and lack of income. Throughout, he encouraged the two men to be open in their thoughts on ways of improving things. Before long, the ex-slave was expressing himself without hesitation.

  Jonah’s detailed assessment of the present situation was clearly based on close scrutiny and thoughtful analysis. Lyon listened carefully as the bailiff spoke at length.

  “There are tracts of land in the east farms, m’lord,” he concluded, “that are surely capable of yielding many good crops. But they lie fallow, and the farm buildings are tumbling down from lack of use. The land is used only for sheep grazing. Even the dairy farm. Makes no sense to me, begging your pardon. Wool prices are down. The squire was partial to his horses, too, so we have too much grazing land here at the home farm. Solgrave, the estate to the west of us, plants barley, rye, some oats, and acres of wheat.”

  When Jonah paused, Gibbs asked what was stopping them from doing the same here. The bailiff told them of the lack of people in the outer farms. All the Africans had previously lived in the Grove, and it was not practical for workers to travel daily to work those farms. But now, with Lady Aytoun’s project of building new cottages, the hope was to plant those fields in the spring.

  Lyon told them what he had heard of new methods that were being used throughout the countryside. Agricultural methods were changing, with progress being made using crop rotation, forage crops, and new field design. For an hour and a half, they discussed better uses of the soil and the land.

  Finally, talk turned to the idea of reorganizing the outer farms, leasing the land to families, and helping them restore or build whatever dwellings or outbuildings were needed. By the time Jonah left the room, Lyon was confident that the man would do well. He also found himself looking at Gibbs differently.

  “I am quite impressed with how suited you appear to be for the position of steward. Who would have thought that such a dog could rise to such heights?”

  The giant man scowled at the earl.

  “I am serious, Gibbs. You have established a workable relationship with this bailiff, who will be a great help to you. You know the household. Already you have had enough time here to learn your way around and get to know everyone. And as far as doing the job of steward, you have helped Campbell enough times at Baronsford to handle everything here.”

  “Och, I wish I could say for sure, m’lord. Men are born into these sorts of positions, I’m thinking. Perhaps yer wife should be looking someplace else to fill the position. Do ye think she might just be asking too much of me?”

  “You are a muscle-brained ox, to be certain, Gibbs,” Lyon snapped at him. “You have no more faith in yourself than a stewed prune has. She is not asking you to sell your soul to the devil, man. She is only offering you a position in the household. A position in which you will excel. Speak up, you Highland ape. What is stopping you? Out with it.”

  Lyon knew what his man was thinking. For ten years they’d been inseparable. Where Lyon had gone, Gibbs had gone as well. When he had taken a commission, Gibbs had joined to serve with him. When his regiment had been dispatched to India to fight the Dutch, Gibbs had been at his side. When he’d fought duels against any number of scoundrels, Gibbs had faithfully served as his man. Now the Highlander was being offered a position that would give him a place of his own, in a sense.

  Gibbs’s dark brows were a straight line when he finally looked up. “It has to do with responsibilities, m’lord—responsibilities and loyalties. After all these years together, I just cannot have ye thinking that I have forgotten what ye did for me.”

  “I dragged your arse out of an oyster house. That’s all.” Lyon shook his head in disbelief, but he remembered the day very well. Wandering into an Edinburgh establishment on High Street on King George’s birthday, Lyon had found a tall, slightly ine
briated Highlander refusing to drink to the monarch’s health unless the rest of the drunken mob would drink to Bonny Prince Charlie’s. They’d been ready to stuff his rebellious carcass into Mons Meg and fire him from the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle. “And that was over a decade ago. Do you know how many times you have repaid me over the years for that day?”

  “Nay, m’lord. ‘Tis been a very fine thing, serving in your house over the years. But I’ve ne’er had the chance to repay ye. For as many years as I have been serving ye, I’ve been the envy of every manservant from Baronsford to Bath. Ye have always treated me no less than as an equal, and I have much to be grateful for on that score alone.”

  Lyon expelled his breath in frustration. “You are not leaving me, you deuced son of a horse thief. You shall be put in charge of things and making a bloody difference.”

  “Och, by the devil. If ye are thinking—”

  “I’m thinking that I shall be a great deal harder on you if you don’t take yourself out of here right now and tell my wife that you shall take the position she has offered you.”

  Gibbs glanced at the door and back at Lyon. “If ye are certain, m’lord.”

  “Get out.”

  Lyon watched him go to the door and open it. Before going, the Highlander threw a glance over his shoulder. “Thank ye, m’lord. I’ll do ye and yer bride proud.”

  “I know you will.”

  ******

  With the door to the bedchamber left open and a dozen candles burning brightly on every table and shelf, Millicent tried to dispel all appearances of intimacy in the room as she prepared herself for the task ahead. Following her instructions, the valets had dressed Lyon in a nightshirt with wide sleeves and deposited him on the bed.

  While John was still in the room, Millicent applied the ointments to her husband’s right arm and changed the dressing on his burn, which was healing beautifully. But the short, stocky servant then asked to be dismissed, and Millicent was left alone to apply Ohenewaa’s ointments to the rest of Lyon’s partially dressed body.

  By the time she was finished spreading the healer’s ointment on one of Lyon’s legs, her face was on fire, and she was drenched with sweat.

  “Why not just call in the bloody household to chaperon us while you are doing this?”

  She gave him a startled look. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Really?” He lifted his chin challengingly. “You have been nervous since dinner when you thanked me for Gibbs's deciding to accept your offer to make him steward.”

  “You took me on your lap and kissed me.”

  “What is wrong with that?” he asked with a wry smile.

  “There were at least half a dozen servants around, still serving the meal.”

  “And?”

  Millicent had been excited and embarrassed and confused. He had simply ignored all of the shocked glances and unsuccessfully hidden grins of the servers. Of course, the fact that she had practically melted into him hadn’t helped either.

  “And nothing!” she whispered, dipping her fingers into the ointment and spreading it on his other leg.

  Her long talk with Ohenewaa this afternoon had opened Millicent’s eyes to the short-lived nature of her present situation. On the first day of meeting with the dowager, she had demanded that in the event of the earl’s recovery, a divorce would be uncontested. Now it appeared that he would indeed recover, and perhaps speedily.

  Millicent was no fool. She knew she would never be an accepted member of the ton. As a young woman of average looks with a fairly respectable lineage, she had been barely attractive enough to suitors to secure a marriage to an abusive sugar plantation owner with social aspirations. And in the years since, her looks and her luck had only deteriorated. She didn't want to imagine how objectionable Lyon would find her as a wife once he was completely healed.

  “You don’t need to do this if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “I am not uncomfortable,” she replied, meeting his amused gaze. She had made a bargain, and she was going to fulfill her part of it. “This is only the beginning of these treatments. The groom I sent to St. Albans was able to find several herbs Ohenewaa was looking for. She has already promised to prepare another ointment for you tomorrow. And I shall need to have John or Will help me every day to exercise—”

  “This is all a waste of time. I have no bloody control of those limbs.”

  “Today you have no control. But tomorrow…” She paused, having finished rubbing the ointment on his leg; she pulled the blankets over him. “Tomorrow is a new day, with new surprises and greater promises.”

  He caught her wrist when she was about to tuck the blanket around his chest. “That is what I have been doing for all these months. Thinking of tomorrow. Knowing that nothing would change. Certain as a man can be that I shall continue to be a pathetic cripple, stuck in a chair for ten thousand tomorrows.”

  “Well, I am determined to change your mind on that, m’lord.”

  “How? By becoming distant? By running away?”

  “No, I am here.” She would help him, but she had to protect herself—and her heart. But how could she admit this to him? “I shall be here whenever you need me.”

  “Very well. Then spend the night here with me. In my bed, beside me.”

  “I don’t see that—”

  “Last night was the only restful night I have had in months. I want you here. I need you here.”

  *****

  He had tipped his hat to her and whispered good morning. He had smiled at her when he’d entered the servant's hall tonight. Violet didn’t see anything wrong with serving Ned Cranch the late supper. Clearly he had found his manners once again, and Vi liked the way he was treating her.

  Violet topped his cup of ale and sat across the table, watching his large, callused hands handle the food on his plate. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the feel of those hands on her body. She looked up at his wide chest and thought of the crisp, curly hairs and the feel of them rubbing against her breasts. And that mouth biting and suckling her. She must have made a sound, for Ned’s green eyes lifted from his food and met hers.

  “Don’t let yer thinking wander too far south, lassie, or I’ll be taking you down by the stables. If we make it that far.”

  Violet blushed with embarrassment and stared down at the deep grooves in the dining table. He was handsome and charming and the only lover she had ever had. But at the same time she needed to force herself to remember that he was mean and rough and had not thought twice about kicking her out of his room at that tavern in St. Albans. Violet knew she had to force herself to behave coyly, to remain cool and reserved, the way Mrs. Page did with Mr. Gibbs. It definitely would not do to drool after Ned whenever he came near her.

  “Who that one think she is, the bloody Queen of Sheba?”

  Immediately annoyed with his tone, Violet followed the direction of Ned’s gaze and saw Will, the lanky valet to the earl, holding a door open while Ohenewaa carried in a tray. The woman definitely had the look of a queen.

  “She is a great healer.”

  “What the de’il does that mean? She’s a witch?”

  “No,” she snapped at him. “That’s Ohenewaa. She’s quite knowledgeable about herbs and medicines. She was a slave to an English doctor for some forty years before Lady Aytoun brought her here. The women here at the Hall say she probably taught that doctor more about healing than she learned.”

  Violet watched with great admiration as the old woman glided through the room and disappeared into the kitchens with Long Will on her heels.

  “The stories they tell about her ability to heal things are so impressive. Most of the black folk here knew her from the—”

  “Ain’t your mistress afraid of letting her near the food? I’ve heard stories about them witch doctors in the sugar islands. When they’re not stirring up trouble with the slaves, they’re poisoning the masters.” He shoved his half-eaten meal away from him. “What if this one decides t
o poison us all with one of her brews?”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say.” Violet frowned at him. “Everyone trusts Ohenewaa. She wouldn’t do anything like that. And that includes my mistress.”

  He snorted in disbelief and stabbed at a big chunk of meat on the plate.

  Feeling compelled to defend Ohenewaa, Violet leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “Lady Aytoun bought her at an auction. That old woman was brought here in nothing more than rags.”

  “Aye? So what?”

  “Well, her ladyship values Ohenewaa’s opinion more than those of all those fancy doctors that have seen to his lordship since his accident. More than that doctor who came out from London. That’s what I call trust.”

  “How’s that? That woman is looking after the earl?”

  Vi nodded exultantly. “None of those other physicians is even allowed to come here anymore. Her medicines are the only thing the earl takes. What she says goes. The mistress has put her husband’s life in this woman’s hands. That should tell you how much she values Ohenewaa.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The mattress shifted slightly beneath their weight, and Millicent awoke with a start. Lying on her stomach at the very edge of the bed, she pushed up on her elbows and watched him. While still asleep, Lyon was trying to roll onto his side. She considered how she could help without waking him up. Before her sluggish mind could sort out a plan, though, he whispered something under his breath and rolled successfully onto his right side.

  Millicent had given in to his request of spending the night in his bed. As odd as it felt, she was his wife, after all. And last night had been special for her, too. What harm could possibly come of it if she were to crawl beneath the sheets after he was asleep? She could keep a safe distance between them.

  Looking at how close they were now, Millicent realized that her assumptions had been wrong. She’d intentionally had slept on the right side of the bed so that his good arm would not inadvertently brush against her body. But he had rolled toward her and, as she watched, his left arm reached out and came to rest across her back.