Reckless by Hannah Howell

15

Ailis heartily wished there was some way to send word to Alexander. She sat down beneath a tree and struggled against falling asleep as her child nursed. Exhaustion had become a constant companion. Each time she stopped walking, she fell asleep. She knew that every step toward complete exhaustion brought her a step closer to what could prove to be a deadly illness, but she was too weary to even worry about that any longer. All she wanted was to reach a place where she could have a safe, dry bed.

Jaime gently removed the child from Ailis’s arms and redid her gown, ignoring her sleepy protests. He set the baby at his shoulder and walked, murmuring soothing nonsense to the child as he made certain there was no air in the small belly to give the baby a pain and cause him to cry. Unlike his mother, the child appeared to thrive on the journey to his father’s keep. The heir to Rathmor was already displaying his sire’s strength. With each new sign of the child’s continued good health, and strength, Jaime’s concern eased.

It was Ailis who began to truly worry Jaime. They had come so far, but it had cost her dearly. She said nothing, but he was certain she had contracted a severe chill from either the mists that so often assailed them or the rainstorm they had gotten caught in last evening. Exhaustion had sapped all the color from her face, yet there was a flag of scarlet decorating each cheek. Every bit of strength she could muster went to the simple act of placing one foot before another and caring for her child. She had none left to fight a fever. Jaime feared that, in her badly weakened condition, an illness could easily mean her death.

Reluctantly he woke her. She desperately needed rest, but at the moment it was a luxury they could not afford. They had but a half day’s walk ahead of them before they reached their long-sought destination. At Rathmor there would be warmth, a bed, food, and people ready and able to care for Ailis. Jaime was sure that moving on was the wisest thing to do. Ailis had also given him strict orders when they had begun their journey—he was not to hesitate for her sake, for reaching Rathmor had to be all that mattered.

“Oh, the bairn is done,” Ailis mumbled as she struggled to stand.

“Aye, mistress. We must be walking on. ‘Tisna too much farther. We should be at the gate of Rathmor by nightfall. Nay,” he said when she reached for her child. “I will carry the bairn.”

She gave him no argument. Even her child’s slight weight had become too much for her to bear. It was all she could do to stay erect. Her greatest fear was that fever now lurked in her blood. Her limbs felt heavy, and it was increasingly difficult for her to think clearly. Ailis tried not to let Jaime see how poorly she was faring, but she knew she was failing miserably by the way he kept frowning at her. All she could do was pray that he did not stop, that he would obey her orders to get her child to Rathmor no matter what.

As they had slipped across MacCordy lands, they had had to hide from Donald’s men several times. They were at least safe from that danger now. She was not sure they could completely trust any MacDubh they met, however. Someone had betrayed Rathmor. Someone had told Donald where to find her and Alexander that day. She could not be certain that traitor had been captured. Jaime clearly shared her fear, for he kept them away from any signs of habitation, traveling close to the trees and keeping near to all possible hiding places. In fact, he was revealing a real skill at stealth, one surprising in such a big man.

Although Alexander was constantly on her mind, he was even more so as they drew nearer to Rathmor. She would finally see his beautiful face again, see that he had recovered from his wound, and finally put her fears for him to rest. So, too, would he protect their child. Donald’s chilling threat had lain heavily on her mind for what felt like a lifetime. That burden would soon be eased, for it would be shared. She would be able to rest for the first time in far too long. She clung to that thought as she struggled along.

 

As Alexander walked to the parapets of Rathmor, he heartily wished for a chance to rest easy with no fears or the nightmares inspired by them. Reports of the MacCordys and the MacFarlanes riding over the countryside searching for Ailis told him that she had somehow escaped her enemies, yet there was no word on her. That she was no longer in the hands of enemies should have been good news except that he had no idea whose hands, if anyone’s, she was in. Again and again he tried to think of where she could be, and again and again he came up with a thousand different possibilities.

One thing he knew for certain was that he sorely missed her. He sighed as he leaned against the wall and stared out toward MacCordy lands. His bed had never seemed so empty, yet he felt no urge to fill the space she had left. The hunger he felt had but one source and but one remedy. He even missed the way she would argue with him. It continually surprised him to discover just how fully she had become a part of his life. He was not at all sure that he liked it. It was exactly what he had tried to prevent, to shield himself from.

He had sent out some patrols, claiming that it was to scout for MacFarlanes or MacCordys. That the men probably suspected his true motives did not bother him. A few scouting forays was a small thing, but at least it was some sort of action taken. If by some miracle Ailis was making her way toward Rathmor, his men would find her. He just prayed that she would not try to avoid them because she feared a traitor. That was a possibility, for she could have no way of knowing that the man had been caught.

“ ‘Tis hard not kenning.”

Alexander grimaced as Barra stepped up next to him. “I think even word that she had died would be some relief at this point.”

Barra nodded and briefly clasped Alexander’s shoulder in a gesture of silent sympathy. “I just canna make myself believe that she is dead.”

“Nay, nor can I, although how she could disappear for a week, or more, whilst three clans search for her . . . ‘Tis as if she has become the mist—out there, yet not out there.” He shook his head. “Heed that. I grow fanciful.”

“She is but one person, mayhaps two, if Jaime is still alive. Then, too, ‘tis nothing less than their lives that is at stake.”

“Aye, true enough. That can serve to make the dullest become crafty, and Ailis isna dull of mind.” For one moment he wished that that was not true, for if she were not so clever, she would have stayed where she was, and then he might have had a chance to rescue her.

“And when ‘tis his mistress he must protect, Jaime can be very sharp as well. Such a thing brings out the best in that soft-hearted giant. And I hope he does still live, if only for our poor Kate’s sake.” Barra shook his head. “I hadna noticed how much her cheerful nature mattered about here until she grew so dowie, so solemn and forlorn.”

“Well, I hope the man is with Ailis, for she is either near her birthing time or just risen from a childbed. She will be in sore need of his brawn.”

 

Ailis realized that she could no longer fight her weakness or hide it from Jaime. Twice she had stumbled, but, blaming some obstacle, she had regained her feet and plodded on. The third time she could not even do that. She sat where she had fallen and fought the urge to burst into tears. It seemed to her to be the cruelest blow to lose the last of her strength when her final goal was so near at hand.

“Ah, Jaime, I am so close, but I canna take another step.” She shook her head. “Ye had best go on without me, Jaime. Take the bairn on to Rathmor and safety.”

“Dinna talk such foolishness! I willna be leaving ye.” He picked her up from where she sat in the road and carried her to the shelter of some trees.

“I could order ye to do as I say,” she said as he sat her down and crouched in front of her.

“Aye, that ye could, but I wouldna heed ye, so dinna waste what little breath ye have left. A bairn needs its mother.”

“There will be women enough to hold him. He will be needing a wet nurse anyhow; she could take my place.”

“A man needs his wife,” Jaime continued in a dogged tone as he tried to rouse her flagging spirits.

“Alexander MacDubh needs no one. He but smiles and a dozen lasses flock to his side. He will miss me little,” she said, her despondency causing her voice to tremble. “Och, Jaime, ‘tis no use. I can barely lift a finger, let alone walk. My body has said ‘’tis done.’ ‘Twas only the thought of how close I was to Rathmor that had kept me going all day.”

“I kenned that, lassie. Ye were too soon off your childbed. Ye have a fever, if I judge it aright.” He felt her forehead and cheeks, frowning deeply over the heat he discovered there.

“Aye, and that fever is what weighs me down. I canna think clearly. Go on ahead, Jaime. Ye could come back for me.”

“I willna leave ye. Nay, and not when we are so very close. And there is rain scenting the air. I will carry ye.”

“Nay, that will slow ye down.”

Jaime was prepared for argument or, if that failed, to make use of his greater strength, but his attention was suddenly diverted from Ailis. He heard the sound of horses being ridden leisurely down the road toward them. He quickly pushed Ailis down onto the ground and tucked the baby into her arms. With a quiet he had perfected over the last few days, he crept toward the roadside. Even though they were very close to Rathmor, he did not dare to assume that the people approaching would be friends. He crouched behind a small knot of bushes and strained to get a good look at the small band of men despite the diminishing light of an early evening. When Jaime recognized the leader, he was swept with relief.

“I am nay too fond of going back to the laird without any word—again,” grumbled one man.

“Aye.” Angus sighed and shook his head. “The laird doesna much like not kenning. He needs to act, yet he canna do naught. God’s beard, where can that lassie have gotten to?”

“Over here, Angus,” called Jaime as he slowly stepped forward, out of his hiding place.

“Jaime?” croaked Angus as the group reined in and stared at him. “ ‘Tis truly ye?”

“None other. Have your eyes gone bad?”

“My eyes are fine,” Angus snapped as he dismounted hastily along with the others in the scouting party. “We have been searching high and low for ye and the lass for over a week. I didna expect ye to stroll up and hail me as if naught is amiss.”

“I am a bit surprised to see ye, too, as I would have thought that ye would stay closer to Rathmor with so many MacCordys and MacFarlanes wandering the lands hereabouts.”

“Those fools stumble over each other so much they dinna see anyone else. Now, where is the lass?”

“She is over here, Angus.”

With his eldest son in tow, Angus followed Jaime to where he had left Ailis, and he cursed when he first set eyes upon her. “Och, lassie, have ye gone mad?”

“Such a fine greeting,” Ailis murmured and smiled weakly at the men who knelt by her side. “Look here, Angus—a son.” She tugged the blanket open enough for Angus to see the child.

“Sweet Lord, save us! When did he arrive?” Angus stared at the baby in openmouthed surprise.

“About a week past. Nay, a fortnight, I think.” She struggled to sit up, but Angus had to give her a helping hand. “He decided he couldna wait any longer, not even for me to get him home to Rathmor.”

“Ye are completely mad, lassie! Ye should be abed, not traipsing about the countryside. Do ye think ye are some strapping peasant slut? Sweet Mary, ye look poorly and sorely worn down.”

“Always quick with a ready compliment. Ah, but I am sorely tired, Angus. Is Alexander all right?” she asked in a soft, hesitant voice and tensed for the answer.

“Aye, he has healed well. I think his wounds must have appeared worse to ye than they were, although ‘twas no light cut he suffered from, true enough. He is sore hot to take a sword to someone, but with ye disappearing as ye did, it left us with none to take up a sword against.”

“That must dearly try his patience,” she drawled and, despite how bad she felt, she was able to smile faintly.

“Oh, that it does, m’lady. That it does. Here, Jaime, ye take the bairn, and I will take this fool lass,” Angus said and then ordered his son, “Ye will ride with Lachlan, Rory.”

“I almost made it, Angus,” Ailis said as the burly man lifted her up into his arms. “I came so close, but I just couldna take another step.”

“Aye, ye did almost make it, and ye almost killed yourself, too. I think ye may have caught a touch of the fever, by the looks of ye.”

“ ‘Twill pass,” she murmured as they mounted, and she snuggled against his chest, suddenly feeling chilled to the bone and craving his warmth.

Angus wished he felt as confident as she sounded. He did not like her looks, which told him that the fever settling on a woman after a birth had accounted for far too many women’s lives. He pushed his and his men’s horses as hard as he dared, considering that they had already been ridden all day. It grieved him to think that Ailis may have struggled so hard to reach Rathmor only to die. He dared not even think of how such a tragedy would affect Alexander.

 

Chaos erupted when Angus’s scouting party returned. Alexander hurried into the bailey to see what had caused the uproar. As he stepped out of the keep with Barra at his heels, everyone grew silent, and Alexander felt himself tense. Alexander’s eyes widened at the sight of Jaime dismounting to be heartily embraced by Kate. Then his gaze flew to Angus. It was easy to recognize the midnight-black hair that tumbled free of the blanket which shrouded the form in Angus’s arms. Alexander raced to Angus’s side, then hesitated. He felt his heart skip to a stop when he saw how still Ailis was. It took him a moment to find the ability to speak, for fear choked off his voice.

“Ailis?” His voice was little more than a croak as Angus gently placed her in his arms.

Ailis stirred at the sound of her name spoken in Alexander’s enticing voice, and she looked up at him. “I have brought ye your son, Alexander MacDubh.”

“Sweet heavens,” whispered Barra.

Jaime stepped over to him and Alexander, the baby in his arms, and the small face was revealed to anyone close enough to look.

Ailis slipped her arms about Alexander’s neck and tucked her face up against his throat. “Ye must name him, Alexander, and ye must have him christened,” she said, her voice hoarsened by her illness, and she felt him tense. “I am sorry. I didna have a chance to do it. I had to stay in hiding.”

The heat of her small face as she pressed it against his skin caused Alexander to tense with a deep fear for her. He did not need an extensive knowledge of illness to guess that she had contracted a fever. Alexander looked at Jaime. The expression upon that man’s face gave Alexander little hope that what he felt could be disputed, that perhaps Ailis was simply very tired and not ill at all.

“She is afire. How has she come to this state?” he demanded of Jaime as he lightly tightened his hold on Ailis.

“The lass spent barely two days in her childbed before she began her journey to here. We have walked the whole way, save for the last few miles.”

“All the way from where? No one has been able to find either of ye for nearly a fortnight.”

“First we fled Craigandubh. Then we had to hide at Sir Malcolm MacCordy’s tower house whilst Mistress Ailis had the bairn. What with hiding from the ones who hunted us, a rainstorm, a constant mist, and choosing a long, twisted route so as to stay hidden, we have been trying to get to Rathmor for well over a week. She wasna ready for such an ordeal. She wasna strong enough.” Jaime shook his head, his expression mournful.

Her mind increasingly clouded with fever, Ailis was sure she heard some criticism in what Jaime and Alexander were saying. “They were going to kill him, Alexander. They were going to cut him up and send him to ye in pieces.”

Again Alexander looked to Jaime for an explanation. “Donald MacCordy”—Jaime snarled the name—“that swine was ever telling her what he planned for the bairn after he was born. He told her that he would send ye your child in pieces, very wee pieces. ‘Tis that which has driven her so.”

“Ye can talk about all of this later,” Kate commanded in a brisk voice. “This lass must be put to bed and tended to.”

“The bairn will be needing a wet nurse,” Ailis said as Alexander began to move more quickly, hurrying toward their bedchamber.

“We will find him one,” Alexander assured her. “Dinna fash yourself, sweeting. He will be well cared for.”

“And a name, a name and a christening?” she pressed. “He must be christened. This journey could have been death for him, and he would have gone to his grave unshriven. I canna bear the thought of it.”

“Aye, he will be christened. A priest is due here on the morrow. He will christen the laddie as soon as he arrives. I will see it done ere the man can remove his cloak. Aye, and then I will hold the man here until ye are well, and we will have that church-sanctioned marriage we sought months ago.”

He stayed with Ailis as she was changed, washed, and dressed in a warm nightrail. It eased his worries a little to hear the women tending to her report that she was bleeding no more than would be expected, that they could find no signs that she had done herself any harm in that way. A heavy loss of blood added to the fever she suffered from would have surely meant her death. Ailis was then given a gentle draft, and he sat by her side, holding her hand as he waited for her to fall asleep.

“Ye must keep Jaime here,” Ailis pleaded. “Donald wants him dead, and he willna kill him cleanly. He warned us over and over and over again that one more attempt by Jaime to aid me would end in Jaime’s death.”

“Jaime has a home here for as long as he wants one.” He lightly kissed her forehead. “Now, hush, sweeting, and go to sleep. Ye need your rest.”

“Just one more thing,” she whispered, her voice soft and slowed by encroaching sleep. “If I am still ailing when the bairn is to be christened, I want Jaime named as a godfather. He deserves the honor, for he brought our bairn into the world. Will ye do that for me? I ken he is poor, but his character is a rich one.”

“Aye, love, I will do it. I canna think of anyone more deserving. Ye dinna need to tell me that he had a great deal to do with ye and our bairn reaching Rathmor alive.”

“A traitor . . .” she struggled to say.

“I found him.”

“Good.” For once she was not concerned about the punishment the man had received, even though she was certain that Alexander would have killed him, as would have any man.

When Ailis finally went to sleep, Alexander left Kate to watch over her while he sought out Jaime. He found the man in the great hall changing the baby’s linen on a rug before the fire. Alexander crouched by his son and carefully studied the child’s sturdy little body with utter fascination. Despite seeing the child with his own eyes, Alexander still found it difficult to believe that he was a father again.

“He has all he should have,” Jaime said as he cleaned the child off. “Aye, and ‘tis all in its proper place. He is healthy and strong. ‘Tis hard to believe, but he seems to suffer no ills at all from the journey here.”

When the baby clutched Alexander’s finger in a surprisingly strong grip, Alexander felt himself swell with emotion. That amazement he had felt at first still lingered in his heart. He could not believe that he had had a part in creating such perfection. He found himself thanking God that the strength of his passion for Ailis had prevented him from exercising his usual caution and keeping him from fulfilling his heartbroken vow to remain forever childless.

“I am hardly a blameless man,” he murmured, “but I canna understand, have never been able to understand, how any man or woman could harm a child.” He thought of his poor Elizbet and wondered if he was being given another chance.

“Donald MacCordy could do it. Ailis wasna foolish for worrying. That man will kill anything when he has a sword in his hand. I have seen him. With this wee bairn he was striking close to ye. Aye, and he would have been hurting Ailis, who continued to refuse to have anything to do with him. He is badly eaten up with hate for ye, of any and all MacDubhs. Ye have made him look the fool. Twice MacDubhs have taken women promised to him. Aye and filled the bellies of each of those women with MacDubh bairns.”

“I will take his accursed life yet. Tell me all that happened.” Alexander picked up his son and led Jaime to the head table. Once seated, Jaime told Alexander the details of their imprisonment and escape. When Jaime was done, Alexander said nothing for a long while, then shook his head. “So, it appears I owe Sir Malcolm MacCordy two lives. I swear that he willna die by my sword.”

Not yet, Jaime mused silently.

“And I shall do my best to see that he isna cut down by my people. Although I still consider the MacCordys my enemies, I can no longer count Sir Malcolm as a part of that feud. By his act of saving the lives of Ailis and my son, Malcolm has washed my father’s blood from his hands.” He scowled as jealousy briefly leapt to the fore of his emotions. “I am very glad that Ailis was heavily swollen with our child, then newly upon her childbed, or no doubt Malcolm would have demanded some payment from her for his efforts on her behalf.”

Jaime was startled by his own capability for duplicity. Deceit had never been his way, nor had he thought he had the wit for it. He merely nodded as Alexander talked, giving no hint of any deals or promises made. He still hoped to put a stop to it, but if he could not, he would do nothing to mar what little time Ailis had left with Alexander.

When Angus arrived with a wet nurse, Alexander finally relinquished the care of his son. He made his way to his bedchamber to take Kate’s place at Ailis’s side. Instinct told him there would be a few rough days ahead, but he was not pleased when his instincts proved correct.

Ailis often cried out for him when delirium seized her, and he was needed to calm her. She was clearly tormented by visions of his death prompted by her last word of him as having an arrow in him. Due to her fever, she had little memory of returning to Rathmor, and Alexander was often hard-pressed to convince her that he was all right. He almost felt guilty when she revealed such signs of how she cared for him, and they touched him deeply despite his efforts to fight their allure.

The hardest thing he battled was her continued fears for their son. In her fevered mind she would see Donald MacCordy carry out his vicious threats. Alexander found her visions unsettling and worked unceasingly to put a halt to them.

There really was little to be done. Ailis was kept warm and clean, forcefully fed a hearty broth whenever possible, and kept calm and resting as much as could be. Alexander had never felt so utterly helpless. He could do little more than watch as she fought with an enemy that had no fear of him or his sword.

The day after Ailis and Alexander’s son arrived at Rathmor, he was christened Moragh Tamnais MacDubh. He was loudly proclaimed heir to the Laird of Rathmor, but any celebration over that long-awaited event was delayed until Ailis was well again. Alexander kept his promise to Ailis and held the priest at Rathmor, all the while praying that it would be to perform a wedding and not a funeral. The sympathy and prayer he got from others revealed that Ailis had gained a goodly amount of loyalty from his clan despite her MacFarlane blood. It surprised Alexander a little, but he was glad of it. It would assuredly make her life a great deal easier as a MacDubh.

Alexander was alone with Ailis when, after nearly a week, her fever finally broke, and he was fervently glad of it, for he discovered tears on his cheeks. For once he made no excuses to himself for the show of emotion. When he felt suitably under control, he dragged Kate from her bed so that she could help him tend to Ailis. As soon as that task was completed and Kate was gone, he shed his clothes and joined Ailis in bed. For the first time in far too long he fell asleep—quickly and deeply.

 

Ailis slowly opened her eyes. She looked around her in confusion. When she caught sight of the golden-crowned head next to hers and looked down at the elegant hand gently cupping her breast, she smiled as her memory came rushing back. Her dangerous trek had been successful.

“Ailis?”

She turned her head and smiled into Alexander’s clearing eyes. “I made it.”

“Aye—barely.” He could not bring himself to be angry or to lecture about the risks she had taken, for he fully understood what had driven her to it.

“Well, aye, I did grow a bit ill.”

“Oh, aye—a bit.”

“Our bairn!” she cried and clutched him by the arm as some of her fears returned.

“Hale and hearty and properly christened.”

“What did ye name him?”

“Moragh Tamnais MacDubh.”

“A good strong name. What do ye think of your son?” she asked with a hint of shyness, for although she had no doubt about his wanting the child, she still felt a deep need to hear him actually say so.

He answered her with a kiss so full of tenderness it left Ailis speechless with some hope for the future. It seemed to her to be impossible for a man to kiss a woman so if he felt absolutely nothing for her. Although she scolded herself for succumbing to the allure of such speculation, she was unable to stop herself.

“There isna a fairer lad in all of Scotland,” he said.

“He has your eyes,” she said in a voice still husky from his kiss.

“Aye, and my temperament.”

“The poor wet nurse,” she murmured, her eyes bright with laughter. “The woman will never survive until he is weaned.”

“Witch.” He gave her a brief hard kiss. “How do ye feel?”

“Ravenous.”

“Aye.” He brushed his thumb over the tip of her breast until it grew taut. “I ken that feeling.” He quickly left the bed, for he knew that he would try to make love to her if he did not, and he knew she was not ready for that.

“Where are ye going?” she asked as she watched him dress, keenly feeling his loss at her side.

“Away from temptation. I am also off to fetch a meal and the priest.”

“Alexander, I am not dying. I am getting better.” She watched as he strode to the door. “I need no priest.”

“Ye do if ye are to be wed, lass.”

“I am still abed,” she squeaked in protest even as her heart skipped from a burst of eagerness. “Canna it wait?”

“I said we would be wed by the church as soon as I could set hands upon a priest. I have one, so we will be wed. There will be no chance left for anyone to try and deny our son his birthrights. I will send Kate to ye.”

His high-handedness irritated her, but she did not argue. She wanted this union sanctioned by the church. Foolish or not, it would make her feel more secure. Alexander was a man who respected vows, and honored them, and those spoken before a priest were far more binding than the implied ones of handfast. She firmly pushed aside the memory of a promise and Malcolm MacCordy.

The priest was young and nervous, clearly perturbed by the irregularity of the wedding, but he performed it. Ailis suspected that he was more concerned about angering or offending Alexander. There was also the hint that the priest felt it was far past time to sanction the union.

When it was all over, Alexander firmly, and quickly, cleared the room. Ailis could no longer hide how weary she felt. The combination of her first meal in days plus being married had sapped what strength she had. She clasped her new husband’s hand in hers when he sat down on the bed. It was frustrating to think that there would be no wedding night for a while.

“Ye are stuck with me now, Alexander MacDubh,” she murmured as she closed her eyes.

“Aye.” He pressed a kiss into her palm, still holding her hand even though she was asleep.

He studied her sleeping face. She was his now. The sense of calm that gave him surprised him only a little. He was growing accustomed to uncharacteristic emotions where she was concerned. Handfast had served its purpose, but now she was his in the eyes of God and the church. It would take both those powers to protect any man who tried to take her from him.