The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle)

by Ashley York

  Calum edged forward. There was no other movement. Their eyes met. As one, they broke into a run in the opposite direction, only stopping at the first large tree. Calum grabbed the lowest branch and began to climb, walking his feet up the trunk.

  Iseabail, on tiptoe, pushed him from behind. “Hurry, Calum, hurry. Do not look. Just hurry.”

  The growling turned into barking as it neared. Calum made it to the first branch big enough to sit on. Imagining the animal right on her heels increased the fear gripping her chest, but she fought it down. Her brother wrapped his legs around the trunk and turned to offer her his hand as she reached up to the same low-hanging branch.

  She knew the instant her brother saw the beast—his face tightened with fear. The creature snarled just below her. Calum stretched toward her, but his fingertips did not quite reach. Time slowed as the dog’s hot breath fanned her skin, and its teeth sank into her calf. Searing pain shot up her leg. She bit her cheek to keep from screaming.

  “Stop, stop.” Calum’s command was ignored.

  Iseabail kicked at the dog with her other leg. She could not get out of harm’s way without the use of her feet. Her arms strained from trying to climb.

  “Oh, Iseabail, a little farther,” Calum cried out.

  Iseabail touched Calum’s fingertips as the dog caught hold of her cloak. Pulled off balance, she tumbled to the ground. With the heavy material of her outer covering as her only protection, she covered her head and prayed.

  *****

  Seumas reined in his horse when he heard yelling in the distance. Steering toward the sound, he trotted, not knowing what to expect. It was not until he heard “Iseabail” that he forced his horse to high speed. The sight of her body falling onto the grasping mouth of the crazed dog was his last clear thought.

  He dropped from his horse and was upon the dog, forcing its head back, dagger in hand. Whether slitting its throat or breaking its neck had killed it made no difference to him. The sight of the lovely Iseabail covered in blood was his undoing. Like a wounded animal, he gave an agonized groan. Once again, he was a witness to senseless death and destruction. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he cradled her head against him. The young boy dropped to the ground beside him.

  Calum pulled at the cloak, already soaked in blood. “Oh, Iseabail, Iseabail.”

  Gently shifting her in his arms, Seumas removed the cloak from her head. Her face looked deathly pale, and her long lashes lay still against her cheeks. Calum lightly stroked her head. Tears streamed down his face to drop onto Seumas’s arms.

  “There’s water on my horse.” Seumas spoke quietly.

  Calum jumped to retrieve the skin and returned with it—along with a blanket grabbed off the horse’s back—within moments.

  The smell of horse sweat and leather filled the air as Seumas held the water skin to her blue-tinged lips. Her pallor terrified him, her skin so pale he could see the blue lines under the surface. He feared she would not survive.

  Her eyes were closed. Her breathing shallow. For just a moment, he smiled at the memory of those eyes flashing with anger when he had called her ignorant. For just a moment, he imagined that in another life, he could have loved her and mayhap, she could have loved him. For that moment, he allowed real desire to reach the depths of his soul.

  “Now will ye admit ye are ignorant, my bonnie lass?” His voice was quiet as he held her close, willing the life in his worthless body to be transferred, somehow, to hers. Without thinking, he kissed her forehead.

  Her quiet moan surprised them both.

  Calum sat closer to his sister. “Iseabail? Can you hear me?” He stroked her hair as if she were the child. He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “Iseabail, please hear me.”

  Cautiously, Seumas laid her on the ground and checked her injury. Halfway up her calf, he found where the dog had managed to nearly rip the sinew from the bone. Seumas’s stomach lurched at the sight. If she survived, it might be she would have to lose her leg. Further up were more teeth marks, but these had not broken the skin.

  “Can ye fetch more water, lad?” Calum moved quickly. “And there is a cloth in my bag.”

  “I am not ignorant.” Her hoarse voice was barely audible, her eyes still closed.

  Seumas’s breath caught when he realized what she had said. He smiled at this show of defiance. “Aye, mayhap ye are not, lass.”

  “My head, though, it aches so.” She moaned. Her hand reached toward her head but fell back to her side.

  “Does anything else hurt?”

  “My leg is on fire.” She groaned and turned to curl up on her side. “Where is Calum?” Tears ran down her cheeks. “Calum?” She called to her little brother in a weak voice.

  “Wheesht, lass, he fetches water to clean yer wounds. He shall be right back,” Seumas reassured her as he rubbed her back in little circles.

  Calum returned to her side and Seumas poured some water onto the cloth.

  “Can ye hear me, Iseabail?” Calum asked.

  “Yea, my sweet. I am sorry, Calum. I always hated climbing trees.” She tried to laugh but it turned into a cough and blood tinged her lips. A bad sign.

  “Oh, Iseabail, you have to get well.” Calum glanced up at Seumas, a distinct distrust in his eyes, then turned back to his sister and lowered his voice. “We have to help Iain, remember?”

  Seumas knew that Iseabail and her brother were in some sort of danger, but he had not bothered to find out the details. Instead, he had gotten angry and stalked away. He berated himself. Now this young lad looked at him as if he might be the devil himself. There was no defense.

  Tears ran down Iseabail’s cheeks. She reached to touch Calum’s face but seemed unable to find it.

  Calum took her hand in his. “You will get better.”

  Seumas gently lifted her leg and blocked out her moans of pain. He had to clean her wound properly and it would hurt. He pulled her skirts aside then carefully removed all debris from the gash before covering it.

  “Fetch me another cloth, lad.” Wiping the bloody spittle from her lips, he opened her mouth slightly. There was a huge cut inside where her teeth had all but gone through her lip. It had been a bad fall. He carefully felt her head for lumps or lesions and found a bump at the back of her head.

  Encouraged by the notion that Iseabail could speak and reason, he flew into action. “Gather some of the frozen fiddleheads that are still in the shade, quickly.”

  Thank the Lord for the heavy frost that had come so early the night before. They found several moisture-laden plants, still frozen solid, which they could hold to her head. The swelling lessened with their attentions, and she opened her eyes once and asked what had happened. After drinking some water, she fell asleep.

  Darkness came too quickly. Calum managed to start a small fire, which warmed them slightly. With that done, Seumas debated the safest place to take her.

  “Have ye stayed around here for long?”

  Calum showed surprise at the question. Seumas decided to come clean and tell him what he knew, hoping the boy would see the confession as a sign of Iseabail’s trust. He needed details about the danger surrounding them.

  “Iseabail told me ye two were in hiding, and I assumed ye had been living in the forest. I am thinking it is probably not safe for ye to come inside the castle again?”

  Calum nodded.

  “Is there any shelter nearby?”

  “When did she tell you this?” Calum asked.

  Impressed by the boy’s frankness, he answered in kind. “I watched over her last night. Kept her safe.”

  Calum seemed satisfied with this and led him down a trail where the trees were impassable on horseback. Several had fallen down, blocking the path. Seumas carefully cradled Iseabail in his arms, grasped the horse’s lead, and followed Calum.

  Seumas glanced around the area. The natural ravine created by the uprooted trees gave protection from the wind and passersby. It was a good enough shelter for a night. He settled down and
shifted Iseabail onto his lap. The cold earth seeped into his body. He held her close, surrounding her with his own warmth. Iseabail’s head rested once again on his chest, and her breath was warm against him.

  Calum hobbled the horse nearby then shuffled slowly back, as if not sure where to sit. Seumas motioned for him to come up alongside him then enclosed him in his arm as well. Although Iseabail moaned occasionally, the two slept restfully while Seumas kept watch and daydreamed about crofter’s cottages and fields of sweet hay.

  Chapter 10

  By morning, a fever consumed Iseabail’s body.

  “Calum.” Seumas shook him awake. The lad was immediately alert. “Go fetch some water from the river.”

  Calum quickly returned and put some on to heat. “M’lord, her fever is near unbearable.”

  Seumas laid her on the ground. “The humors are playing havoc with her insides.”

  “You are a healer?”

  “I have learned what to do about certain afflictions.” He gave Calum a reassuring nod. “Can ye stoke the fire?”

  Seumas tried to settle her comfortably, but her moans were heart-wrenching.

  Calum paused at the sound. “She is in so much pain. What can we do?”

  “Just as we have been doing. Her fever is the problem.” Seumas held the skin to her lips, trying to get the remainder of his water past her parched lips. “Drink, lady. Drink,” he whispered in his frustration.

  The liquid dribbled down her chin. He sat back on his haunches and surveyed the area to see what was available to them.

  Calum rummaged through the supplies packed on Seumas’s horse. He had not been intending to return any time soon, even before his decision to leave the mercenary life, so there was much available to him. Calum brought extra blankets to cover Iseabail. Seumas gathered the peppermint and lavender he found growing nearby and prepared a tincture to bring down her fever and a poultice to wrap around her wound.

  “We must stay here until she is ready to travel.” Calum spoke more to himself.

  “Where were ye two going?” Seumas exposed the wound again to clean it. The angry red skin was beginning to bulge at the sides. A sure sign of infection.

  “We were looking for legal assistance.”

  Seumas paused in the cleaning. “Like barristers and judges?”

  “Aye.” Calum inspected the wound over his shoulder. “Someone who can help to oust the intruder from our lands.”

  Strange way to put it.

  Seumas did not question who “the intruder” was. Being from much further north, he was not familiar with the MacNaughton clan or any of their people. His curiosity sparked, but he let it go. For now.

  Her wound ran clear and smelled untainted. The cause of the fever had to be something inside. He wrapped her leg in a new poultice to draw out any poisons.

  “Ye two seem very close.” Seumas spoke quietly so as not to disturb Iseabail, who was sleeping more restfully now that the dressing was cleaned.

  “And my brother Iain.” Calum glanced up at him, a smile in his eyes. “We are all three very close. We were not allowed any visitors. Iseabail especially was not allowed companions after the intruder arrived, so we spent a lot of time together.”

  Seumas envied their bond, their commitment, and the trust they shared, but then hardship often bonded people. What had “the intruder” done? It must have been quite a trial for the two—no, three—of them.

  Iseabail’s fever stubbornly remained. Seumas poured water on her arms and face to cool her skin. By midday, the fever had spiked, and Seumas feared for her life. Her face was deathly gray. Her sleep became unsettled, and she called out to her brother. Calum was beside himself with worry.

  Seumas knew of only one herb that could help break the fever, but he did not see any in the area. He had only known it to grow further north, in the Highlands. However, he happened to know that the cook at the castle had her own stash, but he could not leave Iseabail to get it. Perhaps the boy could get back into the castle. He was young, not considered a threat.

  “I am afraid she might die if we do not get her fever down,” Seumas said. Calum’s eyes were wide with fear. “I need ye to get something from the cook in the castle.”

  The lad stood without hesitation. “Tell me what I need to do.”

  “Ye cannot be seen, Calum.” His bravery was admirable, but there was a real danger of him being caught. Seumas did not know all the details, but he knew that much. “Ye need to get into the castle unnoticed. Go in with others passing through the gates so ye do not stand out.”

  Calum nodded.

  “Get into the barn and tell Robbie ye need his help. He will know what to do.”

  “Will I take your horse, then?”

  Seumas had not thought about that. Could the boy even ride?

  “Only to the edge of the field before the bridge. Then dismount so ye do not draw unnecessary attention.”

  Unwavering, Calum moved to untie the destrier, and Seumas helped him mount. At first a little concerned about the difference in size between the horse and rider, Seumas was relieved to see Calum had no problem controlling the animal as he headed toward the castle. He rode quite well.

  Iseabail’s moan drew him back to her side. Without that herb, he knew of only one thing to get her fever down. Submerging her body in water. The river nearby ran cold from the loch to the east. It would have to do. He cradled her in his arms as he carried her the short distance to the river. Her head bobbed against his chest. The lack of moisture on her body was a bad sign.

  “Do not die,” he whispered, before settling her alongside the rushing brook.

  His hand shook as he untied the cloak, exposing her dress. Again he questioned how well off this MacNaughton clan was. The material was soft against his fingers as he freed the ties and lowered her gown over her shoulders. The loose garment slid easily down her body. Either she had lost weight or the dress was not her own. When only her thin chemise covered her, Seumas took a deep breath to steady his nerves.

  He had seen naked women bathe unashamedly on his travels. Women from other cultures were far less modest about displaying their bodies. With all this vast experience, why was seeing this one woman naked making it hard for him to breathe?

  He shifted her body to work the chemise up over her thighs and expose more of her skin to the cooling water. It snagged and, when Seumas tugged on it, he found the point of a blade poking through. He worked the hem loose to reveal an eight inch dagger sheathed in leather and strapped to her thigh. It was well made and dangerous looking. Meant to inflict pain. He glanced at the woman in his arms. Why would she need a dagger? More questions without answers.

  His gaze roved helplessly over her body, across the fullness of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, the dark triangle visible even through her chemise and disappearing between her thighs. She was all but naked, and he ached to run his fingers along her soft curves. Touch the silky skin. She moaned, bringing him back to his senses.

  He closed his eyes. This woman was definitely trouble. Moving more on the strength of his conviction than desire of his mind, he let her legs slip into the water. He used his hands to scoop the water and dragged its coolness along her arm, working his way up both sides. There was no response.

  Finally he settled her into the river, holding her firmly. The cool water gently lapped at the chemise bunched over her hips, and she took a shaky breath, though her eyes were still shut. After another moment, the heat of her skin lessened. She took another deep breath. Moisture appeared on her lower lip. A good sign. When she started to shiver, he pulled her against him. She was dripping wet, but he cradled her, paying no heed to the dampness of his own clothes. Her fever was dropping. That was all that mattered. She moaned against his chest, and he sighed with relief.

  “Iseabail, ye gave me quite the fright.” He kissed her forehead.

  She murmured what could have been her thanks.

  Iseabail was settled back, fully clothed and resting comfortably, o
n the blankets as dusk began to fall, but Seumas walked to the edge of the clearing for the hundredth time. Calum was taking too long. He exhaled through his nose and forced himself to sit down alongside Iseabail. Her color was better and her breathing steady.

  He glanced at her long, dark lashes, her pert little nose, her rosy lips, and scowled. She was indeed a beauty. She was also a handful. Trouble seemed to follow her. She would never know how close to death she had come—a fever could kill quicker than an arrow. He had learned how to lower a fever through painful experiences in Edessa. He had learned to avoid noblewomen such as her the same way.

  The year he turned fourteen, there had been a noblewoman who had stirred his blood. They had met at the castle during the Harvest celebration. Her hair was a color he had never seen before—gold as wheat. Her long torso had been draped in a green gown covered with jewels and lace. Ah, the material had done little to hide her full breasts pressed against it. The most comely woman he had ever seen, she had taken his breath away, and he had fallen in love with her right then.

  “Ye are a fair beauty, I would say.” When he had spotted her sitting by herself, he had seized the opportunity to talk to her. How his hands had sweated and his knees knocked.

  She had not noticed him. She had even leaned forward in her chair to look around him, clearly searching for someone else.

  Undeterred, he had pushed on. “Is there someone I can get for ye, fair lady?”

  Seumas had not missed the look of repulsion that passed over her face as she looked him up and down.

  “Who are ye?” Her voice dripped derision.

  “My name is Seumas, m’lady. Is there something ye need? I see ye are unattended, and I thought I might be of some assistance.”

  Seumas could still feel the sting of her words.

  “If there were ought ye could do for me, I believe I would rather be pierced through the heart by an arrow than accept yer assistance.” She had turned away from him then, her long nose high in the air.

  He remembered feeling as if his world had ended. Yea, noblewomen were left to their own devices too much. They lacked the firm hand and discipline any well-bred creature needed. Iseabail was no different.