“Nay, she will listen to me and wake up,” Fiona shouted louder.
Tarr dismounted and approached her slowly. “When Aliss is ready, she will wake up.”
“She,” Fiona pointed to her sister, “will wake up now.” She pounded her fisted hand against her palm. “I insist. Wake up now, Aliss. Now.” Fear chilled her bones and she shivered. “She must wake up. Oh, God, please let her wake up.”
Tarr went to her side, and though she tried to deny his comfort, pushing him away with flaying hands, she finally crumbled in his arms and wept against his chest.
“Quiet!”
The forceful shout surprised them all.
“My head hurts,” Aliss said more softly.
Fiona was instantly at her side as was Raynor.
“An arrow pierced your skin and you still bleed,” Fiona said, then hurriedly asked, “What do I do?”
“Stitches?” Aliss winced as she raised her hand to touch the wound. “If the bleeding does not stop soon”—she paused for a breath—“you will need to stitch the wound.”
“I am not good with a needle,” Fiona protested.
“Do what must be done.” She took a breath. “I am weak and may not remain conscious long. Follow these instructions.”
A shout sounded for Tarr that riders approached, and with a quick look to Raynor to watch over the women, he hurried off.
When Aliss finished, she barely had a breath left in her.
Fiona took firm hold of her sister’s hand. “You will be fine, I will see to it.”
She watched Aliss’s eyes as they drifted shut.
“She needs rest,” Raynor said.
“You reason while I worry.”
“I try to look at this as Aliss would, and do what she would do. She did the same for me once and saved my life.”
“Aliss knows what to do.” Fiona shook her head. “I fear I do not know enough.”
“She instructed you and I listened well. I can help you.” He reached out and placed his hand over hers and Aliss’s. “We will save our sister together.”
“Forgive me. It will take time for me to realize I have a brother who truly cares.”
“Do not worry,” Raynor grinned. “I shall not let either of you forget it.”
“Aliss will be all right,” Fiona said with certainty, yet she wanted Raynor to confirm it.
He obliged with a hasty, “She will be her old self in no time.”
Fiona turned a sad smile on her brother. “We both attempt to convince.”
“Better than to think the worst.” Raynor shook his head, glancing down at Aliss. “The bleeding does not subside. You need to stitch the wound now.”
“What has happened?” A shrill screech ripped through the silent chilled air.
Raynor and Fiona turned to see Anya rushing toward them. Her purple cloak flew out behind her and her green eyes were wide with fright.
Raynor stood shocked to see his mother. She immediately went down on her knees beside her daughter. “Mother, what are you doing here? Where is father? How did you get here?”
“Your uncle Odo arrived shortly after you left and he brought me here. I could not bear to be away from my daughters. Now tell me what has happened to Aliss.”
“An arrow has grazed her temple,” Fiona explained, and wondered over a sudden sense of hope and comfort that rushed over her. It was the same feeling she had gotten when she was little and her mother would tend her when she was sick or wounded. “She slips in and out of consciousness and has told us what must be done.”
“Her wound needs stitching,” Raynor informed her.
Anya looked to Fiona. “I am talented with a needle.”
“Good, for I am not and this must be done now before she loses more blood.”
Fiona fetched her sister’s healing basket containing a cloth with her various size needles and threads and her pouches of herbs. She instructed Raynor to ask Tarr where the closest water supply was and to bring her a bucketful. Anya prepared her daughter by placing a blanket beneath her head, removing all hair away from the wound, then finally removing the blood-soaked cloth from around her head.
When all was ready, Anya kneeled over her daughter and with skillful hands and a gentle touch she began to stitch the wound.
Fiona remained beside her, dabbing at the wound between stitches as Aliss had taught her to do. Keep it clear of blood she would order Fiona when she had helped her. So with her sister’s words strong in her head, she did as she recalled.
It was over and done in a few minutes, to Fiona’s relief, and glad she was that her sister was not awake to feel the continuous prick of the needle as five stitches were made in her flesh.
The cart arrived soon after, and Tarr and Raynor saw to moving Aliss while Fiona and Anya cleaned up.
Fiona watched the men carefully, ready to bark her disapproval if they were not cautious with Aliss. She needed tender care and a watchful eye, which was why she intended to ride in the cart with her sister and—
Her thought was interrupted by a strong squeeze to her arm. Her glance drifted to her mother.
“I will ride in the cart with Aliss and watch over her.”
A tug, sharp and fast hit her heart. She took care of her sister, no other did.
“Please,” Anya pleaded softly. “Let me tend my daughter.”
Tarr walked up to stand beside Fiona. “We are ready to leave.”
“Mother will ride in the cart with Aliss,” Fiona said, the tug at her heart now a dull, persistent ache.
Anya hugged her daughter. “I will take good care of her.”
Tarr slide his hand into Fiona’s and locked his fingers around hers.
She squeezed tightly. “Things are changing.”
“For the better.”
“Then why do I feel this ache that chokes my heart?”
“It has just been you and your sister for some time and that is no more. You have a mother, a father, and a brother, and soon you will have a husband. It will no longer be just the two of you.”
His remark pitched her deep into her own thoughts, and she remained there as they journeyed to the Hellewyk keep. She rode beside the cart and watched Anya gently cradle Aliss’s head in her lap to keep it from bouncing from the ruts and bumps along the dirt road.
She had wondered over Anya’s sudden appearance. There was time for that later, when her sister was settled in bed. But then Anya would probably want to keep vigil at her daughter’s bedside.
A shout alerted everyone that they neared the keep. When they entered the village surrounding the keep, there was a rush of activity as clansmen and women rushed to offer help and to see how badly their healer was hurt.
Prayers and well wishes were offered as they carried Aliss into the keep. Anya directed Tarr and Raynor to be gentle with her daughter, then chased them from the room after they had carefully placed Aliss on the bed. Anya fussed over her daughter, ordering Fiona to take Aliss’s boots off while she heated water in the hearth.
“You will help me get your sister out of her skirt, but we will leave her blouse, the head wound must not be disturbed. Then I will bathe her as best I can and rid her of the dried blood. After you fix the brew Aliss told you of, you will then go eat and rest.”
Fiona stared at the woman. “You order much like me.”
Anya smiled. “You are my daughter.” Her smile faltered. “I love you both very much and I want what was taken from me. I want my daughters, but right now it is Aliss that matters.”
Fiona nodded and got busy doing as her mother instructed.
Chapter 29
Tarr was speaking with Raynor in his solar when Fiona entered unannounced and with barely a knock. He was expecting her, though her disheveled appearance made him realize the extent of her trauma. She had feared her twin would die and that was not acceptable to Fiona. She would give her life for her sister and that frightened him.
“Join us,” he offered, filling a goblet with wine for her.
&nbs
p; She grasped the goblet with both hands and took a generous swallow.
“Aliss is well.” It was not a question for he knew the answer—Fiona would not be here if her sister was not resting comfortably.
Fiona nodded. “She rests peacefully and mother looks after her.”
“And you?” Raynor asked with obvious concern.
“I want the bastard who did this to my sister.”
Tarr smiled. He admired her tenacity and boldness. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We will find him.”
“Your word?”
“You have my word,” Tarr said.
“Mine too,” Raynor added.
“Good, for you know if I find him first . . .”
Her words trailed off. She did not need to finish, both men understood Fiona would have no trouble taking the man’s life.
Fiona emptied her goblet and held it out to Tarr to refill.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, pouring more wine.
“This morning, I think.”
She sounded unsure, and he could understand why. The past few hours were like a bad dream, best forgotten.
“I will have food brought for you.”
“I am not hungry.”
“You will eat,” Tarr ordered.
Fiona took a swallow of wine. “You will not tell me what to do.”
“I have every right to tell you what to do. I am to be your husband.”
“I want no husband that issues orders.”
“When the orders are best for you, you will obey.”
“Did you say ‘obey’?”
“Mistake,” Raynor whispered to Tarr and with that he took his leave, closing the door quietly behind him.
A crack of thunder split the silence, followed by a sudden pounding of rain against the windows. The sky had darkened considerably, it looked as if night fell upon the land yet it was only late afternoon.
The lone couple remained as they were, staring at each other, until Fiona broke the heavy silence.
“Do you expect obedience from me?”
“I expect you to be you,” Tarr answered.
Fiona’s shoulders slumped, she looked about ready to collapse, but Tarr’s arms were right there to catch her.
“You need to bathe and rest,” he said, holding her close.
“Do you tell me I stink?”
“Fiona—”
She looked up at him.
“Shut up.”
“I want answers. Someone threatens Aliss and me.”
“Leave that to me.”
“But—”
“Later,” he insisted. “We will discuss this later, when you are rested and can think clearly.” He did not give her a chance to argue. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bedchamber, catching a servant in the hall and ordering that a tub of water be prepared for her and food brought.
He no soon as placed her in a chair by the hearth than he was summoned to the great hall.
“Go,” she said reluctantly. “I do not need you.”
Tarr leaned over her, his hands braced on the arms of the chair. “You need me more than you know.” He kissed her and hurried off, promising to return shortly.
In the meantime she tended herself, chasing away the servants who offered her help. She needed no one. She had taken care of herself and her sister since she had been eleven; she needed no one, not a soul.
She wrapped herself in a towel and crawled into bed exhausted from the day that seemed never ending. It should be night, she thought, so she could sleep and rest. It was not right to sleep during the day, though the sky did look more like dusk. There were things that needed attending to, like the threat to Aliss and her. She needed to give it her immediate attention.
She yawned and cuddled beneath the wool blanket, and in seconds fell asleep.
Tarr spoke briefly with Kirk in the great hall, issuing orders meant for their ears alone, before he hurried out of the keep to greet Odo and his men. They had met briefly when he arrived with Anya, but in all the excitement he had had little time to speak with him. When it was made known what had happened, Odo instantly volunteered to search the area for the culprit, hence his delay in arriving at Hellewyk.
Raynor was already greeting his uncle with a bear hug and a slap on the back.
Tarr took note of Odo’s size, tall and broad with a full gray beard that seemed to swallow up his mouth. His gray eyes were sharp for a man whose weathered and wrinkled face made him appear well into fifty years.
He dressed like men from the north in furs and leather, and he spoke in a Viking tongue with Raynor, though switched quickly enough to the Scottish tongue on Tarr’s approach.
“Your men are diligent, they went over our tracks,” Odo said in lieu of a greeting.
Tarr held out his hand. “They obey orders.”
Odo grinned and gripped his hand in a firm shake.
Tarr responded, his hand like a vise that refused to let go until finally Odo relented, easing his grip.
“You found nothing?” Tarr asked, directing Odo into the great hall where food and drink awaited him and his men.
“Not a sign or a disturbance,” he answered, entering the hall and following Tarr to the dais. His men dispersed to the tables laden with food and drink. They stripped off their fur cloaks and hurried to feast on the inviting banquet.
Tarr took the center seat on the dais while Raynor and Odo flanked him.
As soon as drinks were poured and plates filled, Tarr asked, “Tell me what you know of the twins’ abduction.”
“There is not much to tell. One day they were safe in their cradles and the next day they were gone.”
“What of the slave who kidnapped the twins?”
Odo shrugged. “I knew little about her private life, just that she spent most of her time tending to Anya, Raynor, or the twins.”
“She cared for the twins?”
“Aye,” Odo said. “She knew her place and her duty.”
“Who else could possibly mean the twins harm?” Tarr asked.
Odo shook his head. “We went over the same questions years ago and found no answers. We could find no reason for the abduction. No one would benefit from the twins’ disappearance. There simply was no reason for their abduction.”
“There had to be a reason,” Tarr argued. “And I intend to find it.” Then he left Odo feasting with his men and Raynor, and met with Kirk in his solar.
“What have you learned?” he asked his trusted friend.
“Whoever does this, leaves no tracks.”
Tarr frowned. “How is that possible? There are always tracks to follow.”
“Not with this one. The men have gone over the whole area and have found nothing. They grumble amongst themselves, insisting it is a ghost who haunts the twins.”
Tarr pounded his fist on the table. “It is no apparition, but a man of flesh and blood who hunts the twins.”
“How do we find him if he leaves no tracks?”
“Every hunter leaves a track and we are going to find it.”
Tarr crept into his bedchamber after giving further instructions to Kirk. Fiona was curled in his bed sleeping and he did not wish to wake her. He merely wished to make certain she was all right.
He went to the bed, slipping out of his shirt and tossing it to the floor as he went. He would change into a clean one for the evening meal. He tucked the strip of plaid that ran over his shoulder around his waist as he reached the bed.
Fiona was sound asleep and completely naked, the blanket only partially covering her. One long leg and part of her firm backside lay exposed. Her bright red hair crowned her like a wreath of flames and her cheeks were rosy from their recent scrubbing.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, and shedding his plaid and boots he crawled in next to her.
He only wanted to hold her, nothing more. He pressed his body gently to hers and draped his arm over her, sliding his hand beneath the blanket to cup her breast. She was warm and he
r skin soft and smelling fresh, and it felt so right to be there beside her.
He loved to touch her, but then perhaps it was because of the way she responded to his touch, eagerly and with a sense of excitement that flamed his own already raging desire for her.
She was a woman comfortable with making love and she was adventurous. She had not shied away from his nakedness or his eagerness to please her, and welcomed him and all he had to teach her.
She stirred and her hand joined his at her breast, forcing a gentle squeeze out of him.
He nibbled at her ear. “You are awake.”
She wiggled her backside against him. “I was waiting for you to wake.”
He trailed kisses down her neck, turning her skin to gooseflesh while his hand left her breast and drifted down between her legs. As his finger slipped inside her he pressed himself hard against her.
“Is that awake enough for you?”
“Mmm, not sure; let me feel that again,” she laughed.
He bit playfully along her shoulder as his finger worked a magic that soon had her moaning with pleasure.
“Damn, but I want you,” he whispered harshly in her ear, then flipped her around on her back and eased over her.
A sharp knock had them both holding their breaths until Tarr finally called out, “Who goes there?”
“Shamus. You are needed in the hall.”
Fiona grabbed his arm and demanded in a whisper. “You will finish this before you go.”
He grinned as he shouted. “I will be down shortly.”
“Aye,” Shamus acknowledged, and walked away.
“I would have liked to take my time with you.”
“Tonight when every one is abed, for now”—she reached out and took hold of him and guided him into her— “fast and hard will do.”
Tarr obliged entering her with a solid thrust that had her tossing her head back and moaning. Her moans grew as he plunged into her time and time again, and when he emptied into her she joined him, her head spinning, her heart thumping, and her body tingling with satisfaction.
He lay on his back a moment regaining his breath, his hand reaching out to take hers.
“That felt wonderful,” Fiona exclaimed with a smile. “I do not even feel tired anymore.” She hopped out of bed and stood with her hands on her naked hips. “I will dress and go see how Aliss is, then join you in the hall.”
The Daring Twin Page 20