Ceci Giltenan Page 5

  “Katherine, ye don’t look well,” he observed.

  “I am just a bit tired and achy. I’m sure I’ll feel better soon.”

  “Just a bit?” he asked skeptically. He hadn’t known her very long, but he suspected that if she was admitting to feeling “a bit tired and achy” she actually felt much worse than that. Still, there wasn’t much he could do so he didn’t push her. “Come, let me change your dressing.”

  Katherine turned her back to him with no argument. Niall opened her kirtle to find her back was not healing and one particularly deep lash showed signs of festering. Following her directions, he cleansed it as best he could. Her clenched teeth and fisted hands told him that it caused her pain, but there was nothing else to be done. When he finished, she looked as pale and drawn as she had the evening before.

  Once again they set out with Niall cradling Katherine on his lap. The storm had blown itself out during the night. The day grew fine and warm, but by midmorning she shivered in his arms. Closing her eyes against the bright sun, she snuggled closer to him, seeking his warmth. Her flushed face felt hot and dry to his touch. He realized, in spite of all his efforts, fever had set in—she was desperately ill. When they stopped at midday, he tried with little success to get her to eat or at least drink something. She curled up on a plaid and slept. He said to his men, “If we ride hard, we can reach Brathanead by this evening.”

  Alan asked, “Do ye think she can tolerate traveling any faster?”

  “I think if I don’t get her into the hands of a healer soon, I might lose her,” Niall answered, his voice unable to hide the anxiety he felt.

  Niall pushed as hard as the horses could tolerate, Katherine burning up in his arms. They reached Laird Malcolm MacLennan’s keep, Brathanead, at dusk. The MacLennans had been staunch allies of the MacIans for as long as Niall could remember. Niall had trained under Malcolm’s father and he had enormous respect for the old laird.

  Malcolm and Niall’s father, Alastair, had been good friends. Niall and Fingal thought of him as an uncle. Now, just as his father had, Niall considered him to be his most trusted ally. Malcolm met them in the courtyard. A flicker of surprise crossed his face when he saw the limp, feverish lass in Niall’s arms. He issued orders to see to their comfort and sent for the clan’s healer. “Give her to me, lad.” Malcolm reached to lift Katherine off Niall’s lap. Niall hesitated. “Lad, I won’t break her. Ye have to get off that horse.” Niall lowered her into Malcolm’s waiting arms and dismounted. “God’s teeth, lad, where did ye find this waif and what in the hell happened to her?”

  “She is my wife, Malcolm.” At his shocked expression, Niall added, “It’s a long story.” He took Katherine back in his arms, and they entered the keep. Fingal followed carrying a sleepy Tomas.

  “Who is the other urchin?” Malcolm asked lightly as he led them up the stairs into one of the towers containing bedchambers.

  “A clansman,” answered Fingal, without offering any further information.

  Katherine mumbled feverishly. “I promised I wouldn’t hide anything from you.”

  “Wheesht, lass.”

  “Niall, I’m ill.”

  “Aye, lass, I know, but ye will get better now,” Niall answered, willing it to be true.

  Then, in a more panicked voice, she asked, “Where is Tomas?”

  “Tomas is fine, he’s with Fingal,” Niall assured her.

  She still seemed agitated, begging, “Niall, Tomas needs you. I need you, please don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t,” he said. Katherine calmed, slipping back into the oblivion where she had been for hours.

  Malcolm opened the door to one of the larger chambers on the second floor. Niall entered with Katherine and laid her on the bed. Two maid servants helped remove her garments. When the MacLennan healer arrived, she turned Katherine on her side, before removing the bandage. She sucked a breath in through her teeth and said, “Well, I have some work to do. Lairds, it will be best if ye leave so I can get to it.”

  “I’ll stay,” said Niall. The healer gave an entreating look to her laird and said to Niall, “I know ye mean well, but there is nothing ye can do here but get in the way.”

  Malcolm took the cue and said firmly, “Niall, ye need food and rest, and Agnes doesn’t need a worried husband under foot.”

  “Malcolm, I promised her I wouldn’t leave.”

  “Lad, she was delirious, but ye aren’t leaving her. She is unconscious now and ye will be just downstairs. Agnes will call if she needs ye.” Niall still hesitated.

  Malcolm put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, gently pushing him towards the door. “Ye need food and rest, too. Lad, I must insist. Ye will make yourself ill, then what good can ye be to her? I promise ye, she is in good hands.”

  Niall gave in and left the chamber, followed by Malcolm. Descending to the great hall, Malcolm motioned to a screened area behind which servants prepared a bath. “A meal will be served soon. I thought ye might want to have a bath in the meantime.” Niall ran his hand through his hair distractedly, glancing back at the stairs to the tower. “At the risk of sounding discourteous, lad, ye smell of sweat and horses. Stop worrying and bathe.”

  Niall obliged, taking a quick bath before joining Malcolm and Duncan, Malcolm’s second in command, at the table. Gratefully he accepted the tankard of ale offered by a serving maid, taking a long drink of it.

  “Now,” began Malcolm, “tell me how ye, of all people, find yourself married to a lass who looks as if she has been horsewhipped.”

  “Malcom, ye know the MacIans have never been wealthy. I knew my father worried incessantly about money over the last year or so, but I didn’t know how little we had until after he died in the spring. We literally had nothing left. Even less than nothing. Eithne managed to rack up a huge debt while living at court.”

  “Yes, your stepmother enjoys her comfort.”

  “Her comfort? God’s teeth, Malcolm, her extravagance knows no bounds. She accrued more than half of the total debt in the last year alone. She owed something to practically everyone in Edinburgh. I had no way to cover the debt. To make matters worse, Matheson raided our western border several times just before Da died. I couldn’t afford to lose a chicken, much less cattle and sheep.”

  “I am sorry to hear about your financial problems, Niall, but what has the lass got to do with them?”

  “I went to Edinburgh to try to negotiate with my father’s creditors and to put a halt to Eithne’s spending, but nothing could be done. I finally appealed to King David for help.”

  “He has financial woes of his own.”

  “So I learned. He suggested I marry an heiress. I thought he jested, but he had one in mind. He needed to find someone who would be willing to forfeit her title and lands in exchange for a larger dowry, so he could give everything but her wealth to her uncle.”

  “There must be plenty of men who would do that.”

  “One would think, but the rumors about her discouraged most men.”

  “What rumors?”

  “They are lies not worth repeating. I suspect Ruthven started them himself.”

  “Ruthven? Ambrose Ruthven?” asked Malcolm.

  “Aye, Ambrose Ruthven,” spat Niall.

  “That lass is Katherine Ruthven?” Duncan asked.

  “That lass is Katherine MacIan now,” said Niall.

  Malcolm looked shocked, “Her hand was sought by quite a few men who desired her wealth, but the rumors—”

  “All lies,” Niall said irritably. “He clearly intended to avoid a betrothal, hoping to gain everything for himself. He is the bastard who beat her.”

  “Perhaps she is willful,” suggested Malcolm.

  “She did nothing to earn a beating but protect a lad who was equally innocent,” Niall snapped. “Ye haven’t lived at court for years, how is it ye know the rumors about her?”

  Malcolm chuckled. “I haven’t lived there, but I still visit occasionally. There are many would-be matchmaker
s who would like to see me chained to a bride, but even they discouraged me from pursuing the Lady Ruthven. Ah, what folly it is to listen to rumors.”

  “Ye are old enough to be her father,” Niall admonished. The thought of Katherine married to anyone else, much less a man as old as Malcolm, turned his mood even darker.

  “Don’t get your hackles up, lad, I certainly wasn’t the oldest man considering her hand, nor would I be the first old man to take a young, wealthy bride.” Malcolm’s response didn’t sooth Niall’s temper.

  Duncan asked, “The lad Fingal toted upstairs, is he the one she was protecting?” Glad that he changed the subject, Niall nodded, taking another long pull of ale from his tankard.

  “Who is he to her?” Malcolm asked.

  “The orphan of one of her clansmen,” Niall said simply. “Katherine is fond of him. She treats him like a little brother. He seems to have attached himself to Fingal.”

  ~ * ~

  When the lairds finally exited the chamber, the old healer turned back to her charge. She knew she had to draw the poison out of the wounds on the lass’s back. She added some salt, a large handful of shredded wych elm root, and several other herbs to a kettle of water before putting it on the fire to bring it to boiling. She washed Katherine’s back with a solution of soapwort while the herbs stewed. Then she poured the boiling liquid into a bowl to cool briefly. Tearing strips of linen, she dipped them into the solution. When she could handle them without burning her hands, she wrung most of the liquid out and placed the linen strips on the purulent wounds crisscrossing the lass’s back.

  Agnes had hoped the lass would remain unconscious while she worked, but Katherine awakened at the first touch of the hot cloth. The healer knew the solution stung, but it had to be done. Agitated and writhing, the lass cried out, but soon oblivion reclaimed her, releasing her from the agony. Once she had slipped back into her fevered sleep, Agnes could finish cleansing her wounds. She worked as quickly as she could, replacing cool strips with hot ones until the cool strips she pulled away had no more yellow drainage on them and the wounds looked clean. She allowed Katherine’s back to dry and cool before applying a soothing balm, which she covered with clean linen.

  ~ * ~

  When Malcolm and Niall stopped at the room on the second floor, Fingal passed them, continuing up the stairs to a chamber on the third floor. Initially thrilled to see Fingal, the maid who readied his room pouted when she saw Tomas. Fingal chuckled, the reason for her chagrin obvious to him, “Another time, lass.” He stayed with Tomas until the lad had eaten and fallen asleep on a pallet. Knowing the exhausted boy wouldn’t awaken until morning, Fingal left the chamber and descended the stairs. As he passed Lady Katherine’s chamber, he heard her distressed cries. Upon reaching the great hall, it infuriated Fingal when he saw Niall sitting at the long refectory table with Malcolm and Duncan. “What are ye doing down here?” Fingal demanded.

  Niall glared at Fingal and asked in a low, menacing voice, “Ye dare address your laird with that tone?”

  “I beg your pardon, Laird,” Fingal said mockingly, “I thought I was addressing my brother.”

  “Do ye need to be reminded they are one and the same?” said Niall, rising to his feet.

  “Do ye need to be reminded that less than an hour ago, your wife begged ye not to leave her? Now she is crying out for ye, and ye are not there,” Fingal responded, not backing down.

  Niall appeared stunned for a moment before turning toward the tower stairs, but Malcolm clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Niall, sit down,” he commanded. “This is why Agnes wanted ye out of the room. We must allow her to do what is necessary and ye can’t interfere. Fingal, I know ye mean well, son, but it will not help Katherine to have Niall there. She is delirious anyway and Niall will only be in the way. Let the healer finish.” Both young men looked murderous until Malcolm roared. “Sit down. Both of ye!”

  ~ * ~

  Agnes told Niall she had done everything she could to stop the source of the fever but it still raged. Now they could only wait. She finally allowed him to return to his wife’s side, although she stayed to keep watch.

  Niall helplessly watched Katherine’s restless sleep. She moaned, occasionally crying out incoherently. He felt consumed by guilt. When faced with the forced marriage, he had actually welcomed the possibility that she might be weak and slow witted. He had thought of her as a little broken doll he could put away on a shelf and ignore. He had planned to settle her in Duncurra, assign a clanswoman to tend her, and go on with his life. He needed her money.

  He couldn’t set this bride aside, and he didn’t want to. That was reasonable, he told himself. She was clearly bright, she evidently managed Cotharach. She had the skills to run a household, the most basic requirement of a wife. If he had to have one, she would do as well as any other.

  He also had to admit he felt a strong attraction for her. What man wouldn’t? He didn’t think he had ever seen a more beautiful woman and he stirred even now, remembering her passionate response to his kisses. He relished the thought of bedding her.

  How did he let this happen? After Ceana, he had sworn he would never again allow a woman to have the power to hurt him. Words of her devotion to him slid easily off her tongue, even as she loved and freely gave herself to another man. Ceana had wanted to be “Lady MacIan” someday, so she had charmed and manipulated Niall into asking for her hand. He was a fool. After eight years, the bitterness of his pain and humiliation still remained.

  He must not confuse desire with love. He did not love Katherine and, while he doubted he could ever love any woman, he would still remain vigilant and guard his heart. Perhaps simply having no delusions of love would be enough to ensure he wouldn’t lose his heart again. Yet even now he felt a crushing pain. The thought of losing her terrified him. Surely his admiration of her skills and beauty did not justify what he felt now.

  This is not love, he tried to assure himself once again. It is...appreciation. That must explain his despair. On top of being skilled and attractive, she provided the means by which he could save his clan. Only a heartless cur would feel nothing for her. Surely this was why his heart ached at the thought of losing her.

  Five

  Early in the morning, just before dawn, Katherine’s fever broke and she sweated profusely. Agnes dried her gently and changed the linens. Katherine finally slipped into a still, natural sleep. Telling Niall the worst was over, Agnes left, with instructions to send for her if anything changed. Drained, Niall lay down on the bed beside Katherine, and, giving in to his exhaustion, fell asleep.

  Niall slept for several hours, awaking late in the morning. Lying on his side, on top of the bed linens, he put his arm around Katherine. She had turned off her stomach during the night and had curled up against him with her back to his chest. The dark bluish shadows under her eyes gave witness to the ordeal of the last few days, but her pale skin felt cool and no longer looked flushed with fever. The linen towel, with which the healer had covered her back the evening before, slid off when Katherine turned to her side, leaving the lacerations on her back in view. Niall breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the open lash marks looked clean and less angry.

  He had been married to her for four days, and now, for the first time, he gazed on his wife’s naked form. After assuring himself she would recover, he enjoyed her charms at his leisure. Her thick braid hung over her shoulder, disappearing into the cleft between her breasts. Although her arms partially shielded them from view, he could see the upper curve of the creamy mounds, barely glimpsing the edge of the pale pink nipples. He found them delightfully enticing. His gaze continued down her slender body to where his hand lay on her flat stomach, the rest of her enchanting body disappearing under the sheet. Although he thoroughly enjoyed the sight, it came at a price—he grew hard, aching for release. He knew he would have to wait a little longer until she had fully recovered, but he reveled in the thought that this lovely creature belonged to him.

  With a sigh, he
rose and slipped from the room. He sought out Alan and instructed him to return to Duncurra with the rest of his guard, taking the remainder of the dowry. Only Fingal would remain behind. Niall thought it better not to send Tomas away from Katherine, so the lad would continue to be Fingal’s responsibility until they returned to Duncurra.

  Because he did not yet know whether the six other men led by Diarmad had reached Duncurra unscathed, Niall still worried about the target they posed to raiders. Cnocreidh, the large Matheson holding, bordered the western edges of MacLennan and MacIan land and could be reached in less than half a day from both Brathanead and Duncurra. Niall believed a small contingent of MacIan warriors, known to be traveling with a treasure, would make a tempting target to the thieving bastard. For the same reason, Niall would not risk travelling to Duncurra with Katherine unless a full contingent of guards accompanied them. He sent instructions to Diarmad to return with ten men in five days time. He wasn’t sure if Katherine would be ready to travel by then, but he wanted to be prepared to leave as soon as she recovered sufficiently.

  ~ * ~

  The healer, Agnes, came to inspect her injuries shortly before noon, accompanied by a serving maid. Chivying Niall out of the room again, she woke Katherine, who felt as weak as a kitten. They helped her wash quickly, trying not to tire her, and Agnes dressed her wounds. After helping her don fresh clothing, Agnes made her drink some broth and eat a little bread. The brief activity exhausted Katherine and she fell asleep before they left. Niall stayed with her through the afternoon and evening, and slept beside her as he had the night before.

  ~ * ~

  The next several days proceeded in much the same way. Well out of the woods now, Katherine slept less and less and her strength returned steadily. Once convinced of this, Niall left for longer stretches during the day, but always returned in the evening to dine with her. During these evenings she finally learned a bit more about him and his clan. His mother had died in childbirth when he was six. His distraught father, wanting to ensure his small son had a mother, married Eithne Chisholm almost immediately. After Fingal was born, Eithne visited court frequently, preferring the intrigues there to life in the Highlands. Niall didn’t seem comfortable discussing his stepmother, so she didn’t pursue the topic further.