The Bride

  “Alec, where do you get your ideas?”

  He didn’t answer that challenge. “It will not make me sick.”

  “If you get ill, I’ll be very displeased with you.”

  And if his voice turned any harsher, it would probably cause lightning to strike, Jamie thought. “I’m going to take care of him, husband, with or without your permission. Now get out of my way.”

  He didn’t budge, but his eyes had widened over her sharp command. Jamie thought he might be considering strangling her. She decided then that ordering him about wasn’t the right approach. “Alec, did I tell you how to fight those bandits who attacked us on our way here?”

  He thought that question was too ridiculous to answer. Jamie answered for him. “No, of course I didn’t. I don’t know anything about fighting, husband, but I do know a bloody lot about healing. I’m going to help Angus and that’s that. Now please move out of my way. Your friend is in terrible pain.”

  It was her last remark that gained his cooperation. “How can you know he’s in pain?”

  “I saw him grimace.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Very certain.”

  The fierceness in her tone amazed him. Before his eyes she was turning into a tigress. “Do what you can.”

  Jamie let out a weary sigh as she hurried to the table. She placed her jars near one corner, then bent over Angus to study his injuries.

  The warriors all returned to the table. They looked outraged. Alec thought he might have a rebellion on his hands. He folded his arms across his chest and slowly scanned his audience, for one and all had turned to look at him now. They were obviously waiting to see what he was going to do about his wife’s disrespectful interference.

  Jamie didn’t pay any attention to the soldiers. She gently prodded the edges of the welt on Angus’s forehead. She studied his chest wound next.

  “’Tis just as I suspected,” she said.

  “The damage?” Alec asked.

  Jamie shook her head. There was a smile in her voice when she said, “It’s mostly bluster.”

  “Bluster?”

  “Meaning it looks worse than it really is,” Jamie explained.

  “He isn’t dying?”

  The priest asked that question. The old man struggled to his feet, wheezing from the effort. He stared at Jamie with a frown as fierce as any she’d ever seen.

  “He has a good chance, Father,” Jamie said. She heard a woman cry out and guessed it was Elizabeth.

  “I would like to help you,” the priest announced.

  “I would appreciate your help,” she replied. She heard the soldiers grumbling under their breath behind her. She ignored them and turned back to her husband. “You were leaving with your men, I noticed, but if it wasn’t an important errand, I could use your assistance.”

  “We were going to build a box,” Alec explained.

  “A box?”

  “A burial box,” the priest interjected.

  Jamie looked incredulous. She felt like putting her hands over Angus’s ears so he wouldn’t hear this discouraging talk. “For heaven’s sake, you’d put Angus in the ground before he quit breathing?”

  “No, we’d wait,” Alec answered. “You really think you can save him, don’t you?”

  “What can I do to help?” Gavin asked before Jamie could answer her husband.

  “I need more light, linen strips, a goblet of warm water, bowls with more water, and two slats of wood, Gavin, about this size and length,” she instructed, showing him with her hands the desired dimensions.

  If they thought her requests didn’t make any sense, they didn’t mention it to her.

  “His arm is broken, lass. Do you think to cut it off?” the priest asked.

  A soldier behind Jamie’s back muttered, “Angus would rather die than have his arm removed.”

  “We aren’t going to cut his arm off,” Jamie announced in exasperation. “We’re going to straighten it.”

  “You can do this?” the priest asked.

  “I can.”

  The circle of men tightened around the table. Gavin nudged his way next to his mistress. “Here’s the goblet of water you wanted. The bowls are behind you.”

  Jamie opened one of the medicine jars, pinched a sprinkle of brown powder between her thumb and forefinger, and mixed it with the water in the goblet. When the liquid had turned murky, she handed it to Gavin. “Please hold this for just a moment.”

  “What is it, mistress?” Gavin asked, sniffing the potion.

  “A sleeping drink for Angus. It will also ease his pain.”

  “He’s already sleeping.”

  Jamie didn’t recognize the voice, knew another soldier had called out that comment. His tone had been filled with anger.

  “Aye, he’s sleeping,” another muttered. “Anyone can see he is.”

  “He is not sleeping,” Jamie countered, trying to hold her patience. She knew she’d have to gain their confidence if she was going to get their help.

  “Then why ain’t he talking to us or looking at us?”

  “He’s in too much pain,” Jamie answered. “Alec, would you hold his head up so he can drink more easily?”

  Alec was the only one who didn’t argue with her. He moved closer to the table and lifted Angus’s head. Jamie leaned over his friend, cupped his face in her hands, and spoke to him. “Angus, open your eyes and look at me.”

  She had to repeat her demand three times, bellowing the last, before the warrior finally complied.

  A surprised murmur rushed around the table. The doubting Thomases had just been convinced.

  “Angus, you must drink this,” Jamie ordered. “It will take your pain away.” She didn’t let up on her prodding until the warrior had swallowed a large portion.

  Then she sighed with satisfaction. “It will only take a minute or two before the potion does its work.”

  After making that statement, Jamie glanced up.

  Alec was smiling at her.

  “He could still catch fever and die,” she whispered, fearing she’d given him too much hope and not enough caution.

  “He wouldn’t dare.”

  “He wouldn’t?”

  “Not after the way you screamed at him,” Alec replied.

  Jamie felt herself blush. “I had to raise my voice,” she explained. “’Twas the only way I could get him to respond.”

  “I think he’s sleeping now,” Gavin interjected.

  “We shall see,” Jamie announced. She once again leaned over Angus and cupped his face in her hands.

  “Is the pain leaving you yet?” she asked.

  The warrior slowly opened his eyes. Jamie could see the medicine was beginning to work, for his brown eyes were glazed.

  His face had taken on a tranquil expression, too. “Have I gone to heaven?” Angus asked, his voice a scratchy whisper. “Are you my angel?”

  Jamie smiled. “No, Angus. You’re still in the Highlands.”

  A look of horror crossed the warrior’s face. “Good God Almighty, I ain’t in heaven. I’m in hell. It be a cruel trick the devil plays. You look like an angel, but you sound . . . English.”

  He’d roared the last of his statement and immediately started struggling. Jamie leaned so close to his right ear she was almost kissing him, then whispered in Gaelic, “Rest easy, friend. You’re safe in Scots’ hands, you are,” she lied. “Picture your next battle with the English if it will make you feel any better, but hush your talk now. Let the potion woo you to sleep.”

  The soft burr she’d deliberately put in her voice sounded awful to her. Angus was too drowsy to notice, though. He quit his struggles and closed his eyes again.

  He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

  Jamie thought he might be counting the number of English soldiers he was going to kill.

  “What did you say to him, milady?” a soldier asked over her shoulder.

  “I told him he was too stubborn to die just yet,” Jamie replied with a
dainty shrug.

  Gavin was disconcerted. “But how would you be knowing if Angus was stubborn or not?”

  “He’s a Scotsman, isn’t he?”

  Gavin looked over at Alec to see if they were supposed to be amused or insulted by Lady Kincaid’s comment. Alec was smiling. Gavin decided his mistress must have meant to jest with him. A frown marred his brow, and he began to wonder how long it was going to take him to understand this unusual Englishwoman. Her sweet voice was as deceptive as her appearance. She was such a delicate-looking little thing. Why, the top of her head barely reached her husband’s shoulder. That husky voice of hers could coax him into complying with each and every request she gave if he didn’t stay on his guard.

  “I would also like to help you.”

  The tearful voice belonged to Elizabeth. She stood across the table, facing Jamie. The fair-haired woman still looked frightened, but determined, too, and when Jamie smiled at her, she gave a hesitant smile back. “Angus is my husband. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”

  “I’m thankful for your help,” Jamie told her. “Dampen this cloth and press it to your husband’s brow,” she directed.

  Jamie pulled three stockings out of her pocket and slipped one of them over the wood slat Gavin had provided. Before she was finished, one of the soldiers had covered the second slat for her.

  Her hands were shaking now, for the task she most dreaded couldn’t be delayed any longer. It was time to straighten Angus’s arm.

  “In England, it has become fashionable to use a sleeping sponge to put a man to sleep, but I don’t hold with that form of treatment,” she rambled. “I pray Angus will sleep through this.”

  “Would he sleep better if you’d used the sponge?” a soldier asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Jamie answered. “But he might not wake up. Most don’t. The disadvantage does outweigh the merit, don’t you think?”

  The soldiers immediately blurted out their agreement.

  “Alec? You’re going to have to do this for me. I don’t have the strength,” she said. “Gavin, I’ll need long strips of linen ready to bind the slats together.”

  Jamie worked the third stocking over Angus’s swollen hand, paused to cut five holes in the toe of the sock, then eased his fingers and thumb through the openings. Each time she touched his arm, she gave Angus a quick, worried glance to see if he’d awakened.

  “Alec, take hold of his hand. Gavin, you hold his upper arm,” she directed. “Pull, but ever so slowly please, until I can straighten the bone. Elizabeth, you must turn your back now. I don’t want you watching this.”

  Jamie took a deep, settling breath, then murmured, “God, I do hate this part of my duties. Do it now.”

  It took three attempts before she was satisfied that the broken ends of the bone were in the correct position. She slid the first slat under the arm, then put the second on top. Her hands shook. Alec held the slats in place while Jamie wound the strips of linen around and around the wood. When she was finished, Angus’s arm was firmly locked in place.

  “There, the worst is finished,” she said with a deep sigh of relief.

  “But his chest, milady,” the priest reminded her. He let out a loud, painful-sounding cough, then added, “It’s got a gaping hole in it.”

  “It looks worse than it truly is,” Jamie answered.

  A collective sigh made her smile. When she requested additional light, she was almost blinded by the number of candles the soldiers held up for her.

  Jamie asked for another goblet of warm water. She opened yet another one of her jars, sprinkled a fair amount of orange powder into the liquid, and then surprised the priest by handing it to him. “Drink this. It will cure your cough,” she told him. “I can tell it pains you.”

  The priest was speechless. Her consideration astonished him. He took a fair gulp, then grimaced. “Drink every bit of it, Father,” Jamie ordered.

  Like a child, he balked for a minute, then did as she ordered.

  Jamie turned her attention to Angus’s chest injury. She worked well into the night. The wound was crusted with dirt and dried blood. Jamie was meticulous in her task, for she knew from past experience, and from her mother’s instructions, the terrible damage a single fleck of dirt could do if left inside the wound. She didn’t understand the reason behind this truth but believed it to be fact all the same. Since the wound was ragged, she used needle and thread to sew the edges together.

  Alec had ordered a bed carried into the great hall. He knew Jamie would wish to have her patient nearby, and Angus’s cottage was a good distance away.

  Angus’s wife hadn’t spoken another word during the long night. She hadn’t moved from her position across from Jamie and watched her every move.

  Jamie barely paid her any attention. She’d been bent over the warrior for such a long time that when she finally straightened away from the table, pain rushed up her spine, startling a gasp out of her. She stumbled backwards. Before she could regain her balance, she felt at least a dozen hands on her back bracing her.

  “Elizabeth, please help me bandage your husband’s chest,” she asked, thinking to include the worried-looking woman.

  Elizabeth was eager to assist. As soon as the task was done, Alec carried his friend over to the bed. Jamie and Elizabeth followed behind.

  “He’ll be spitting mad with pain when he wakes up,” Jamie predicted. “You’re going to have a bear on your hands, Elizabeth.”

  “But he will wake up.”

  There was a smile in Elizabeth’s voice. “Aye, he will wake up,” Jamie confirmed.

  She let Elizabeth tuck the covers around her husband’s shoulders before she asked, “Where did Edith and Annie go?”

  “Back to their cottage to sleep,” Elizabeth answered. She brushed her hand across Angus’s brow in a gentle, loving action that told how very much she cared for her husband. “I’m to wake them when Angus . . . when he dies.”

  Jamie gave Alec a perplexed look.

  Father Murdock started snoring, drawing everyone’s attention. The old priest was sprawled in a chair he’d pulled up next to the table. “Oh, dear,” Jamie said. “I forgot to tell him the potion would make him sleepy.”

  “He can sleep there,” Alec announced. He turned to Angus’s wife and said, “Elizabeth, go and get some rest. Gavin and I will take turns sitting with your husband until you return.”

  From the crestfallen look on Elizabeth’s face, Jamie could tell she didn’t want to leave her husband. Yet she immediately nodded and started for the door. Jamie assumed that obedience to her laird overrode all other considerations.

  “Alec, if you were ill, I certainly wouldn’t leave your side. Why can’t Elizabeth sleep here? She could rest in a chair or perhaps use one of the rooms above the stairs, don’t you suppose?”

  Elizabeth whirled around. “I would be most comfortable,” she interjected.

  Alec looked from one woman to the other, then nodded. “Go and gather your things,” he said. “You’ll sleep in one of the rooms upstairs, Elizabeth. You must remember your condition. Angus will be angry if he wakes up and finds you exhausted.”

  Elizabeth made a formal curtsy. “Thank you, milord,” she said.

  “Marcus? Take Elizabeth to her cottage to get her things,” Alec called out.

  Jamie stood next to the bed, watching Angus. Elizabeth walked over to her side, hesitated, then reached out to touch her hand. “I would thank you, mistress,” she whispered.

  “You won’t have to wake Edith and Annie,” Jamie replied.

  Elizabeth smiled. “No, I won’t have to wake them.” She started to turn away, then changed her mind. “My son will carry his father’s name when he arrives.”

  “When does this blessed event take place?” Jamie asked.

  “In six months’ time. And if it’s a girl . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I shall name her after you, milady.”

  Jamie would have laughed if she’d had the strength. She was so e
xhausted, though, she could only manage a smile. “Did you hear her promise, Alec? Elizabeth doesn’t seem to think Jamie is a man’s name. What think you of that.”

  Elizabeth smiled at Alec, received his nod, and then said, “Jamie? I thought your name was Jane, milady.”

  Alec laughed for his wife. Elizabeth squeezed Jamie’s hand to let her know she was jesting, then left the hall with Marcus.

  “Does that man ever smile?” Jamie asked Alec when they were once again alone.

  “Who?”

  “Marcus.”

  “Nay, he doesn’t, Jamie.”

  “He dislikes me immensely.”

  “Aye, he does.”

  Jamie gave Alec a disgruntled look over his easy compliance, then mixed another potion that was known to chase fever away. She was walking back to the bed when she suddenly realized she hadn’t looked at the lower half of Angus’s body to see if there were other injuries needing her attention.

  She decided to let Alec do the looking while she kept her eyes closed.

  “There aren’t any other injuries,” Alec announced after he’d done as Jamie asked.

  Her relief was short-lived. When she opened her eyes, Alec was standing just a foot or so away, smiling down at her. “You’re blushing, wife. Answer me this question,” he commanded in a soft, teasing voice. “If there had been injury, what would you have done?”

  “Repaired it if possible,” Jamie answered. “And probably blushed all the while. You must remember, Alec, I’m a mere woman.”

  She waited for him to contradict her.

  “Aye, you are that.”

  The way he was looking at her made her blush intensify. Whatever was the matter with him? He acted as though he wanted to say something more to her, yet couldn’t make up his mind.

  “Am I back to looking ugly, husband? I know I must look a mess.”

  “You were never ugly,” Alec answered. He brushed a lock of her hair back over her shoulder. The tender action sent a shiver down her arms. “But you do look a mess.”

  She didn’t know how to take that remark. He was smiling at her, so she guessed he hadn’t just insulted her. Or had he? The man did have an odd sense of what was amusing.

  The longer he continued to stare at her, the more nervous she became. “Here, make Angus drink this.” She thrust the goblet into his hands.