The Silent Highlander by Donna Fletcher
Chapter 30
“Sleep is good for your da. It allows him to heal,” Elysia said, standing next to her husband as he cast worried eyes on his da.
Tables had been moved away from the hearth and a bed brought to rest near the warmth, a chill having settled in the Great Hall from the strong wind that hammered the stone walls and warned of an approaching storm. Odran had a crew of men along with himself move his da, with great care, off the table to the bed as soon as Elysia had allowed.
“He did well and suffered the pain of my stitches bravely. Now he needs to heal,” Elysia said, hoping to reassure her husband.
Odran slipped his arm around the back of his wife’s waist. “You forget I’ve seen endless men linger and suffer from wounds received in battle. I know the dangers he faces; a fever, the wound turning putrid, or simply a sudden death even with all that has been done for him.”
“A sudden death I can do nothing about, but I can treat a fever and keep watch on his wounds to hopefully keep them from turning putrid, and we can do what Bliss always advised—pray. Now go see your mum, Dorrit says she has woken and senses something is wrong.”
He nodded and pressed his cheek to hers to whisper, “I am grateful for what you have done and continue to do for my da.”
She turned her head brushing her lips over his. “He is family. I will always do what I can for family. Now go. Your mum needs you.”
Odran had much to be grateful for to his wife. She had returned a sense of family to the keep and his clan. The curse might still linger, but now hope had arrived and battled against it. His mum had once battled hard for him and his brother, but her strength and courage waned when she had learned of his brother Tynan’s death—by Odran’s hands.
He rapped softly on the door before entering his mum’s bedchamber and was not able to hide his surprise at seeing his mum fully dressed, her hair braided neatly, and a soft flush coloring her usual pale face. While there remained a frailness to her, there was also a spark of strength there, of her old self, and Odran was relieved to see it.
“It’s your da, isn’t it? Something has happened to him,” she said, clenching her hands in worry.
Odran would not keep the truth from her. “Aye, he’s been stabbed several times, but he lives. Elysia has tended his wounds. It is now up to time and fate.”
“Take me to him,” his mum said, reaching out to her son.
Odran went to her, his arm going around her. He feared she would collapse, seeing her body tremble. “He’s in the Great Hall. Perhaps you should stay here. There is nothing you can do for him at the moment.”
“I most certainly can,” his mum said indignantly. “I can be with him. I can stroke his brow, hold his hand, let him know I love him.” She sniffled back tears.
“Aye, Mum, that you can and I am sure Da would want you to,” Odran said, realizing how much he would want Elysia at his side if he were dying.
His mum’s steps faltered a few times on the stairs but his firm hold kept her from falling. He made sure to keep hold of her as they approached the bed in the Great Hall, worried she would collapse when she saw her husband, looking so deathly pale.
Margaret gasped and pulled away from her son, though he didn’t let her go. He hurried her to sit on the chair beside the bed.
She reached out and stroked her husband’s brow gently. “I’m here, Fergus. I’m here with you. I won’t leave your side. I will see you get well. You will not leave me, Fergus. I refuse to let you go. I love you, always.” Tears fell softly and quietly down her cheeks.
Elysia had no hope of containing her tears. She let them fall, not only for Fergus and Margaret, but for her husband who kept his tears and pain locked behind his stern expression.
Lady Margaret went to move the blanket down to take his hand and Elysia hurried to help her.
“Let me,” Elysia said and carefully drew the blanket back. “Lord Fergus suffered several wounds to his chest, but they are minor.” She didn’t want Lady Margaret to get upset when she saw his bandaged, naked chest. “The wounds to his arms required more care and will require more healing time.” She placed Lord Fergus’s arm, the length of it swathed in cloth, atop the blanket. “He also suffered a wound to his lower left side which I stitched closed. If that heals well, he will do fine.”
Lady Margaret smiled, though her tears continued to fall. “Thank you for explaining that all to me, and your honesty, but most of all for helping my husband. I am grateful. You should rest now.”
“Mum, there is something else you should know,” Odran said, worried this was not the time to tell her about Elysia being with child, but concerned she might learn it before he could tell her himself.
“Elysia is with child,” his mum said, her eyes on her husband. “Did you hear that, Fergus? We are to be grandparents. You must get well. Our grandchild will need us.”
“You know?” Elysia asked, stunned, not only that the woman knew, but that she didn’t appear upset by it.
“I began to suspect shortly after you arrived here. My suspicions grew when you touched your stomach often during your visits with me. I did the same when I first learned I was with child. I was thrilled and amazed that a bairn was growing inside me. I could barely believe it. Other things confirmed it for me. I saw the small garment that peeked out of your stitching basket and I heard talk that you were not eating well in the mornings.”
“But you said nothing,” Odran said, surprised. “I thought for sure you would be upset with the news.”
“At first I was. I thought Elysia foolish and selfish to bring a bairn into this world to only make him suffer much like his father has. Then I got to know Elysia better. After a while I was surprised to feel hopeful that perhaps she would do what I couldn’t—successfully defeat the curse.”
“My sister will do that,” Elysia said with confidence.
“I pray you are right. I truly do,” Lady Margaret said. “Now you should rest while you can. You and the bairn both need it. I will look after my husband and send for you if necessary.”
“My mum is right. You need to rest,” Odran said, annoyed he hadn’t seen the tiredness in her eyes and the slump of her usually squared shoulders.
“I will be here to help Lord Fergus,” Lendra said from a nearby table.
“I can help as well,” Finch said, sitting next to Lendra.
Rory stepped out of a darkened corner. “I’ll do what I can. You will do Lord Fergus no good, Lady Elysia, if you don’t rest.”
Odran went to his wife. “I’ll walk you to our bedchamber.”
Elysia shook her head. “I can’t leave him yet. It is too soon. I need to see how he fares through the night if he is to have any chance.”
No one said a word and Odran fought with himself. His da needed his wife, and his wife and bairn needed rest.
“I will rest at one of the tables and you will wake me, Lendra, when necessary,” Elysia said.
Odran preferred his wife get a good rest in their bed, but she had offered a compromise and he wisely accepted it. He walked with his wife to one of the nearby tables and they had barely sat when Dorrit placed a tankard in front of her.
“Chamomile,” Dorrit said and walked away.
“You will drink it, then sleep,” Odran ordered curtly.
“Your tongue has been sharp tonight, husband,” she said and took a grateful sip of the hot brew.
Odran took her hand gently in his. “I worry over you and our bairn.”
She rested her shoulder against his arm. “I know that is a worry of yours, but I sense something more disturbs you. I heard something in your voice tonight that I have never heard—intense fear.”
That his wife should think him fearful about anything annoyed him and that an ember of fear had escaped him annoyed him all the more. His tongue was once again sharp. “I fear nothing, I worry over my da, that is all.”
“I know you well, husband, and it was more than that,” she said softly and squeezed his hand that held hers. “Tell me.”
A sharp bite remained to his tone. “There is nothing tell.”
“I think there is and I think it is time you finally speak about it,” Elysia encouraged, seeing the pain that mingled with anger in her husband’s eyes.
“You don’t need to hear it,” he argued.
“But you need to speak of it,” she continued to encourage.
“Let it be, wife, and rest,” he ordered and yet her urgings poked at him encouraging and tempting him.
She shook her head slowly. “I can’t let it be or rest when I see how much pain it causes you.”
“Enough, Elysia,” he said more harshly than he intended. “I swore I would never speak of it and I won’t.” His own reminder had him clamping his mouth shut tight.
Her chin shot up. “Then I will.”
His head swerved to glare at her. “You cannot speak of something you know nothing about.”
“True, but I can, from the snippets that I’ve heard and seeing how you reacted with what happened to your da, surmise the truth.”
“Don’t,” he cautioned.
She didn’t heed his warning. She continued talking, her voice soft and gentle. “You didn’t kill your brother. You saved him from a horribly painful death and when you saw your da covered with blood, you feared you might have to do the same for him. I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for you, for my heart pains with just the thought of having to make such a heartbreaking decision for one of my sisters. However, I have seen enough men wounded in battle to know how horrendous his pain must have been, and I imagine he begged you to end his life. And you would have only done that if there was no chance to save him.”
“I could have been wrong,” he said, the doubt that he may have made the wrong decision, stabbing at him as sharply as the day he had taken his brother’s life.
“If your brother had been sliced open with the slash of a sword, his insides spilling out, then there was nothing you could have done to save him.”
“He was screaming my name, the battle near ended, and when I reached him and saw—” Odran shut his eyes for a moment, the memory painful. “He pleaded with me between his screams. Then he told me he’d do the same for me without remorse if needed. His words were meant to leave me with no guilt. My roar of anger echoed over the dead and dying on the battlefield as I drove my sword into my brother’s heart to kill him instantly.”
Elysia slipped her shoulder under her husband’s arm, pressed her face to his chest, and hugged him tight. Then she did what he couldn’t do, wouldn’t allow himself to do—she wept for him.
Odran wrapped his arms around his wife tightly and held on to her, needing her there in his arms, needing her love. He wouldn’t cry, he couldn’t. His brother wouldn’t want him to, wouldn’t expect him to.
“Thank you, my son.”
Odran’s head snapped to the side and Elysia raised her head to see his mum standing near the end of the table.
“Thank you for saving your brother from dying a hideously painful death. It took courage to do that and I am as proud and grateful that you had such courage just as Tynan would be.”
Elysia moved away from her husband, freeing him to go to his mum and take her in his arms. Her tears continued to fall for her husband as did his mum’s for both her sons.
“Tynan was a proud man, and I didn’t think he would want anyone to know how he pleaded with me, so I let people think what they wanted,” Odran said, hugging his mum tight.
Margaret looked up at her son. “You two always looked out for each other. I’m glad and relieved you were there to help your brother. I’m proud of you both. And I’m also proud you have the courage to love in spite of the curse. Now go see that your wife rests, while I see to your da.”
Odran returned to his wife, his arm going around her waist to tug her against him. “The heavens sent me a miracle that day in the market when you hid behind me and I will be forever grateful to them. I love you, wife, with all my heart.”
* * *
Two days’time brought some worry when Lord Fergus felt warm to the touch and redness encroached on the stitches. Elysia treated the wound with a salve of mostly Lady Mantle and the fever, she called on her sister’s knowledge to treat. Bliss had told her many times that some fevers were necessary to healing while fever brought on by wounds couldn’t be allowed to last too long. She had Lendra brew Elderberry and thyme to keep the fever at bay.
Unrest haunted the clan with all that was going on, many believing the curse had risen like the dead from the grave to torment them. Whispers made mention of evil that stalked the clan, claiming whatever poor soul got in its way. How else were the stabbings to be explained? Whether they believed it or didn’t want to believe it, no one in the clan muttered a word about a crazy person in the clan being responsible for the two killings and Lord Fergus being stabbed.
Odran ordered his mum to her bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on her from remaining by her husband’s side and getting barely any sleep. He did the same to his wife, refusing to take no for an answer when he told his wife she was to sleep in their bed tonight. She protested, but Lendra had assured her she would fetch her if needed. Finch acknowledged the same.
“Have some mercy on Rory,” Lendra suggested. “He also needs rest.”
Reluctantly, Elysia agreed and when she climbed in bed that night, she realized not only how much she needed the rest, but her husband needed it as well. His yawns followed one after another upon entering their bedchamber. She wrapped herself around his warm, naked body, his arms tucking her close. While her first thought would have been to make love, she was simply too tired and her husband was as well. His repeated yawns continued to confirm that. Lying there in his arms was pleasure enough for her and left her feeling more than content.
Sleep poked at Elysia but there had been something she wanted to talk with her husband about and hadn’t had a chance. Something she had heard Rory and Finch whisper about and something she had thought herself.
“This attack your da suffered was meant for you, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“I didn’t want to worry you with that possibility while you tended my da. You had enough to handle.” He rolled her on her back and splayed his hand over her stomach, feeling the slight bump that was their bairn. “You are feeling well?”
“I am and do not change the subject,” she scolded lightly.
He lowered his head to kiss her stomach gently. “I believe so. I also believe there is someone with a plan, someone who wants me, Brogan, and Rannick dead but not due to the curse.”
That surprised Elysia. “What would this person want if not to end the curse?”
Odran kissed her stomach again before looking up at her. “What most men want—power.” He moved to take her back into his arms when his head hit the pillow. “And land equals power.”
“Why kill Glenis and Deara?” she asked, settling once again comfortably against him.
“A possible ruse to cover up any planned murders or my da’s attack was to make it seem like the same person committed all three when they are separate incidents.”
“It’s a complicated web that has been spun,” Elysia said. “Are my sisters in danger?”
“Annis has no worries. She’s not wed to Brogan and as long as Bliss doesn’t get with child, no one has reason to go after her. And after what happened with Shona, there is no way Rannick will even lay a hand on Bliss. It is you they will come after to keep you from bearing this bairn and any future ones and, of course, me so that the Clan MacBridan dies.”
She wrapped her leg around his and tightened her arm resting across his waist, holding on to him as if keeping anyone from taking him from her. “So even if we discover the culprit responsible for the attempt on your da’s life, the attempts will not stop?”
“Aye, unless we discover who is behind it and end his life before he succeeds with his plan.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Elysia asked, a thought taking hold, one her husband hadn’t considered. “What if the person’s reason for wanting you, Brogan, and Rannick dead has nothing to do with gaining power and everything to do with revenge?”
“Revenge for the curse?”
“Revenge for the murdered bairn. What if the bairn never died? What if she has returned to see the curse fulfilled. Your mum said the curse says that until the wrong is made right you will suffer. Maybe to make it right, the three of you must suffer the same fate she was to suffer—death.”
Odran laid there thinking on his wife’s words. He had had no response for her and they had laid in silence after that, too exhausted to think on it anymore. She fell asleep shortly after, but he could not. What if his wife was right? What if the MacWilliam bairn lived? What if she sought to fulfill the curse and have her revenge? If so, she had to be working with someone, someone powerful enough to help her, or greedy enough to help her. But who?
* * *
Elysia woke suddenly,her eyes popping wide open as if someone poked her awake. Her husband lay on his back sound asleep, his breathing steady. She cast a glance around the room almost expecting to see someone step forward out of the shadows, but she saw nothing. Something was wrong or was it that she had been woken out of a sound sleep and fright had grabbed hold of her, shivering her senseless?
She lay, waiting for what? She shook her head. She was being foolish. There was nothing wrong. She was safe in the keep. Talk with Odran before sleep had put a worry into her, that was all.
With sleep now impossible, she eased out of bed not to disturb her husband and quickly got dressed. She would go see how Fergus fared and relieve Lendra and Finch to get some sleep.
Elysia walked down the stairs, the unease she had felt when she woke once again creeping over her. She stopped at the bottom, not taking another step and thought to return to her husband and wake him. But why? What would she say? It didn’t matter, he would be glad she woke him. She was only steps away from the Great Hall. Still, she felt a strong pull to go get her husband.
Lifting the hem of her garment, she turned to hurry back upstairs when she heard a groan of pain. She didn’t hesitate, she hurried into the Great Hall, fearful her worry had been misplaced and that it was Fergus who needed help.
She halted so abruptly that she almost toppled over. Lendra lay on the floor, blood covering her hand pressed to her side and her eyes urging Elysia to run. A figure stood over Fergus, holding a bloody knife, and it wasn’t Finch.
