Читать книгу Highland Sword - Ruth Ryan Langan - Страница 12

Allegra was grateful that the others had finally vacated the lad’s chambers. Now her only distraction was Merrick MacAndrew, who hovered over her like an avenging angel.

She ground the willow bark into a fine powder, then sprinkled it into a goblet of water before holding it to the lad’s lips.

At once Merrick was beside her, clamping a hand on her wrist. “Hold, woman. What is this thing you give my son?”

“A potion for the fever.”

“Before it passes his lips, you will taste it.”

She was already shaking her head. “I have no need…”

His fingers tightened on her flesh. “I said, you’re to drink first.”

“Very well.” She took a taste. “And now will you waste precious hours waiting to see if I die, before allowing me to minister to the lad?”

Merrick’s frustration came out in a hiss of breath. “Enough of your insolence, woman. See to him.”

Very gently she held the goblet to the boy’s lips and watched with satisfaction until it was empty. Then she turned her attention to the balm and wood anemone, grinding each into powder.

With each twist of her hand, as she worked mortar and pestle, she could feel her strength being drained.

Merrick studied the concoctions with a wary look. “What do you hope to do with these weeds?”

“They are herbs. Wood anemone alleviates swelling. As for the sweet balm, I’ll use it to help the lad sort through his thoughts. He seems confused.”

Merrick’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve read his thoughts?”

“That is not my gift. But there are a few thoughts mingled with the pain, which I can discern. Perhaps it is the blow to the head, or perhaps there is something that is still causing him such fear, it blocks all else, even the healing.”

Merrick’s voice lowered with feeling. “Can he hear my voice?”

For the first time since encountering this angry man, Allegra saw a glimmer of the depth of his pain, something he’d managed to keep from her until now. “I know not. Who can say what those on the other side can hear?”

“The other side?” He blanched. “Is he dead, then?”

“Nay, my lord.” Seeing his pallor, Allegra was quick to explain. “He is not dead, but he has slipped far away from this life.”

“Why?” The word came out in a croak of misery.

“Some go there because it is a place of healing. Others go to prepare themselves for a life far different from the one they know here.”

“You’ll not let him go, do you understand?” Again his fingers tightened on her wrist, and she felt the mixture of anger and frustration pulsing through him. “Cast a spell, or do whatever it takes to keep him with me. If you fail, woman, you know what will happen.”

“Aye.” She snatched her hand away. “You’ve made that perfectly clear, my lord. Now I suggest you tend to your son.”

“Tend him? How?”

“Speak to him, as a father speaks to his son. Call to him. Let him know you are here, waiting to welcome him back from his sojourn to that other place. Urge him to come back to you.”

For a moment Merrick merely glowered at her. Then, putting aside his anger at the woman, he knelt beside the bed and touched a hand to the lad’s forehead.

His voice, when he finally spoke, vibrated with feeling. “Hamish, lad. I’m here now. Nothing can harm you, son. Nothing. Let go of your fears and come back to me. Please, Hamish. I need you here with me. You’re all I have in this world now.”

Allegra stood to one side, watching and listening in amazement. When Merrick MacAndrew spoke to his son, he became a different man. The brute who would force his will on others disappeared beneath the guise of a loving father. But she sensed that this was no mere playacting. The love this man felt for his son was a living, palpable thing.

Still, she would do well to remember that this was no gentle lord, but a coarse brute. And she had the bruises to prove it.

Shivering, she walked to the fire and stood with hands outstretched. But even this close, the warmth eluded her. The dizzy feeling that had come over her when she’d touched the lad was with her still. She felt light as air. As though, unless she anchored herself, she would float clear up to the rough wooden beams of the ceiling.

She took hold of the back of a chair and went very still, struggling to keep her wits about her. But now there was a strange buzzing in her head, and little stars began floating in front of her eyes. Bright they were, and giving off sparks that blinded her. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

As if from a great distance she heard the lord’s voice calling to her. “What are you about now, woman? I’ll have none of your tricks. Come here and see to my son.”

She wanted to answer him. But though she opened her mouth, no words came out. Instead, the room went suddenly dark. She felt herself tumbling down into a deep, black abyss.

Strong arms caught and held her before she could fall to the floor. She felt herself being lifted and cradled against a solid wall of chest. She had not the strength to lift so much as a hand in her defense as she was lowered to a pallet.

There were voices. So many voices around her, and all of them babbling.

The high-pitched voice of the housekeeper. “Well, m’lord, no wonder the poor lass fainted. How long has it been since you fed her?”

The impatient tone of her captor cut through. “There was no time for food, Mistress MacDonald.”

“No time for food? And what about dry clothes?” Something tugged on Allegra’s boots, and she felt warm fingers rolling away her cold, wet stockings. “Look at her. Soaked to the skin. Ye must leave now, m’lord. ’Twouldn’t be proper for ye to stay here while I strip away her clothes and wrap her in dry linen.”

“I have no intention of letting this woman out of my sight until Hamish is healed.”

A long, deep sigh, and then the resigned notes of the housekeeper. “Very well, m’lord. But to preserve her modesty, ye will walk to the balcony until I’ve dressed her in a dry night shift.”

Allegra heard the sounds of booted feet storming across the room, and then the soft rustling as the housekeeper began removing her wet gown and undergarments.

When Allegra’s eyes opened the old woman took a step back, her face registering shock, then fear, then resignation. Pressing her lips together, she returned to the bedside, determined to complete her task.

Allegra touched a hand to her head. “I’ve never…fainted before.”

“Ye’ve no doubt never gone this long without eating before, I’ll wager. I’ve sent a serving wench to fetch some broth and biscuits.”

“Thank you, Mistress MacDonald.”

The housekeeper’s lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Up close ye don’t look like a witch. Why, ye’re hardly more than a lass.”

“I’m ten and nine. By the time my mother was my age, she had three babes.”

“As did I. I was wed when I was but ten and three.” The old woman helped her into a soft, warm night shift, before draping her in a shawl for modesty. “This’ll warm ye.”

“Thank you.” Allegra looked around. “Where am I?”

“Ye’re still in the lad’s chamber. I’ve made up a pallet for ye near his.” She lowered her voice. “The lord wouldn’t hear of ye leaving the lad’s bedside.”

“You’re very kind, Mistress MacDonald.”

The old woman shook her head. “Ye’re here to heal our dear Hamish. For that, I’ll do whatever I can to see to ye’r comfort, lass.”

“Even though you’re afraid of me?”

The housekeeper gave her a sideways glance. “Are ye reading my mind?”

Allegra laughed, a clear lilting sound. “There’s no need to do that, Mistress MacDonald. You’re not very good at hiding your feelings.”

“Are ye a witch, lass?”

Allegra’s smile faded. “Perhaps. I don’t know.”

“Isn’t that why ye live in the Mystical Kingdom? To keep ye’r secrets from the rest of us mortals?”

Allegra shook her head. “The Mystical Kingdom has been home to our clan for hundreds of years. I’ve been there since I was very young. My mum and gram say we took refuge there because the outside world fears and reviles what it cannot understand. There are many who would punish us for being different.”

“What is ye’r name, lass?”

“Allegra. Allegra of the clan Drummond.”

“Ah. ’Tis an ancient and honorable clan, Allegra Drummond.”

When a shadow fell over the bed both women looked up. From the scowl on Merrick MacAndrew’s face, Allegra had no doubt that he’d overheard everything.

“I see you’re well enough to gossip with my housekeeper. Does this mean you’re well enough now to see to the lad?”

Mistress MacDonald crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve ordered broth and biscuits for the lass. And Cook has prepared a meal for ye in the great hall, m’lord, where Mordred and Desmond await ye.”

“Tell Cook I’ll take my meal here, Mistress MacDonald.”

“Here?” She glanced around. “But the lass…”

“Is here at my pleasure. She will sup with me. And then, when her strength is restored, she will do what she was brought here to do.”

“Aye, m’lord.” The old woman gave a worried glance at Allegra before hurrying off to see that the lord’s orders were carried out.

When the housekeeper returned, she was trailed by half a dozen servants. While two of them set a table in front of the fireplace, laying it with fine linen, crystal and silver, the others were busy setting an array of food on a sideboard.

When all was in readiness the old woman sent the servants scurrying before announcing, “Ye’r dinner is served, m’lord. Will ye have ale?”

“I will. And so will the woman. It will help warm her.”

“Aye, m’lord.” After filling two goblets, she stood beside the table. “I’ll just wait and serve ye’r food.”

“There’s no need, Mistress MacDonald. You’re needed in the great hall. Fill our plates with a variety of Cook’s fine food. If we want more, we can serve ourselves.”

“Aye, m’lord.” After doing as he asked, the old woman gave a last worried glance at Allegra before bustling from the room.

When she was gone, Merrick startled Allegra by lifting her from her pallet.

She shrank back. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want you fainting on me again.” His warm breath feathered the hair at her temple, sending the most amazing curls of pleasure along her spine. For the first time in hours she felt warm, all the way to her toes.

She didn’t know what to do with her arms. To keep them from encircling his neck, she clasped her hands together tightly. Because he was holding her so close, her face rested naturally against the warm hollow of his throat. She breathed in the unfamiliar scent of him, and found it so potent it went straight to her head.

This was a different kind of dizziness. Though her mind seemed to spin in lazy circles, she felt strangely focused. And though one part of her wanted to move away, another, stronger part of her wanted to remain just this way.

She’d never been held by a man before, except for her father. But he hadn’t lived long enough for her to remember much about him, except in dreams. Before, when Merrick had held her astride his horse, she’d been too afraid to allow the sensations to sink in. Now it wasn’t fear she was experiencing, but something far different. Something so alien, she would need time and distance to sort it out.

“You’ll sit here.” He lowered her onto a furdraped chaise set before the fire.

Once he released her, he reached for a goblet of ale and handed it to her. “This, and the fire, will have you warm in no time.”

He circled the table and took the seat across from her before picking up his own goblet and drinking. Allegra did the same, feeling the warmth of the ale seep into her veins.

Though her shift of white lawn was modest enough, with a high rounded neckline and long, tapered sleeves, it couldn’t hide the lithe young body beneath. Even the shawl draped about her shoulders couldn’t hide the swell of breasts. The bare feet peeking out from beneath her long skirts made Merrick aware that, except for the shift, she wore nothing.

It wasn’t an image he’d invited, but now that it was here in his mind, he couldn’t seem to get past it.

He set down his goblet and stared at her in a way that had her heart thundering. Then he blinked and the look was gone. Or had she only imagined it?

She bent to her food. After several bites of mutton she looked up and smiled. “This is grand. I think it may be as good as my gram’s.”

“I take it that’s meant as a compliment?”

“Aye. My gram can make biscuits that melt in the mouth, and cook fish from the loch that would make you weep.”

“Has she taught you her secrets?”

Allegra shook her head. “She tries. But she often complains that, though my sisters and I have many gifts, cooking isn’t one of them. Then there is Jeremy. He’s a little troll who lives with us, because he had no other home.”

“I’ve heard trolls are nasty creatures.”

She shook her head. “Jeremy isn’t like that, though he may have been at one time. Now he simply enjoys the beauty of the Mystical Kingdom.”

“What of your sisters? Are they healers, too?”

Allegra looked down. “We are all gifted, though in different ways. I’m the best healer, though the others can manage simple wounds. Kylia can also see the past, and on occasion, look into the future. What’s even more impressive, she can look into a man’s heart and see good or evil. Then there’s Gwenellen…” Just the thought of her youngest sister had Allegra smiling. “She has not yet discovered her gifts, though I’m certain she will in time.”

Merrick seemed most interested in Kylia’s gift. “You say your sister can look in a man’s heart. What if she sees both good and evil?”

“She would see both, but would not judge him. Kylia is far too sweet to ever judge another.”

“And what of you, Allegra?” The name rolled off his tongue like honey and startled him for a moment, for it was the first time he’d said it aloud. His tone softened. “Are you sweet like your sister, or are you a witch to be feared?”

She looked up, and he felt the smoldering heat of her anger. “Are you like all the others, my lord? Eager to use my gift when it suits your purpose, then resorting to cruel names to brand me different?”

He reached for his goblet, avoiding her eyes. Her words were too close to the mark, and shamed him. But he’d be damned if he’d ask forgiveness of this…this tart-tongued female. “We waste time talking, woman. We’ll eat, and then you can return your attention to my son.”

Allegra shivered as the cold settled into her bones once more. Whatever tenuous truce they’d attempted, it had dissolved like the wisps of fog that often drifted over the Enchanted Loch until banished by the sun.

The man across the table was once more the demanding lord. And she, like it or not, his unwilling captive.