Ashlyn (The Highland Clan Book 5) (18 page)

“Daughter, you must eat something. You lost weight on this journey, and you look thin now. When was the last time you ate?” Her mother stared at her, assessing her from head to toe.

She thought for a moment and realized she hadn’t eaten since the previous morning. Aunt Gwyneth had given her an oatcake while they rode toward Clan Grant, but that was all she could recall. “Aye, Gracie, would you make me a bowl of porridge please?”

Gracie left and her mother squeezed her. “I think you must realize how telling it is that you haven’t had many nightmares around Magnus. This tells me two things. You trust him, and he is good for you.”

“Aye.” Her mother left, so she stripped down and finished her ablutions. While she had hoped that the night would somehow answer her most pressing question, her head only felt more muddled.

She knew one thing for sure: she already missed him.

Soon she was sitting at the table, eating the porridge her sister had prepared for her. Gracie sat across from her and whispered, “Have you decided yet?”

Ashlyn’s mother, fussing around the chamber, said nary a word, but it was obvious she had overheard the question.

“Nay,” Ashlyn insisted. “‘Tis a most important decision, one that should not be made in a matter of moments.” Slud, how she lied. She wished a wee fairy had come to her in the middle of the night and told her what to do. She hated making decisions when she was uncertain.

An hour later, she and Gracie headed down the hill toward Magnus’s house. When they were almost there, she noticed two lads approaching the hut with a pair of Deerhounds. She guessed them to be Magnus’s dogs. The lads knocked on the door just before Gracie and Ashlyn arrived, and the Deerhounds each barked once and sniffed the sisters while they ran around them in circles. When the door opened, both dogs went straight for their master, yelping and squealing and running in a frenzy, clearly excited to see their master again. One of them was so excited that he bucked like a wild horse trying to escape training.

Magnus limped over to a stool at his table, laughing and talking to his pets while he soothed them.

“Mada, did you have fun with the lads’ dogs? Were you a good lad, Sim?” The two jumped and pranced around Magnus, stopping only occasionally to take a sniff of his wound under the bandage. When they finally calmed, Magnus instructed them to sit, so they sat, panting, and then actually lay at his feet.

Ashlyn stuck her head through the open door and giggled. “I do not think they will be leaving you anytime soon, Magnus.”

She knew him well enough to know the smile he gave her was false this time. Fear gathered in her belly. Something was wrong.

Magnus thanked the lads for caring for his dogs and they left, pleased with the small daggers he had found for them in Edinburgh.

“Have you had aught to eat this morn?” Gracie asked him as she and Ashlyn walked into the living area of his hut.

Magnus stared at the beams in his ceiling with a baffled expression on his face. “I’m not certain. I must have because my stomach is not growling. I do not feel hungry at all.”

He looked from Ashlyn to Gracie and back again, but his eyes were glazed over. She could see the sweat beaded on his forehead, so she leaned over and touched her cheek to his forehead. The fear in her belly swelled. “Magnus, you’re burning up. You have the fever.”

Magnus sighed. “I know. I suspected as much. I do not feel well, and all I wish to do is sleep. I tried to stay up until I saw you and the dogs, but now I’d like to go to my bed and sleep.”

Ashlyn turned to face her sister. “Gracie, will you go get Mama?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. “I think she needs to see him. Tell her he has the fever. I think she may have something for it.”

As soon as Gracie left the hut, her pace became more of a run than a walk. Ashlyn took Magnus’s arm and helped him into bed. As soon as she tucked him in, he closed his eyes. A moment later, he opened them and said, “Rhona, is that you?”

Chapter Nineteen

“Nay, Magnus, ‘tis me, Ashlyn.” Tears misted her eyes, but she managed to keep them at bay.

“Rhona, I must talk to you. I plan to marry another. I’ll miss you, but I love Ash. You’d love her, too. I hope you do not mind.” He rolled onto his side and stared at the wall, as if he could see something Ashlyn could not. “But I wish for you to know that I will always have a special place in my heart for you. Ash holds a different place. You always said I was a big enough man to be two people. I find I love two. I have to wait for Ashlyn to decide, but she is worth the wait. I hope she says aye.”

Ashlyn’s heart almost burst out of her chest. She had her answer; she only hoped it was not too late. “Aye, Magnus. I’ll marry you. I love you. We can marry and live here together. You just have to get better.”

“Ash, is that you?” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I’m verra tired. I love you. I hope you will be my wife. You are so beautiful and intelligent and brave. Did I tell you how proud I am of you? You, a lass, are the only one who did any damage to MacNiven. All the Ramsays and the Grants tried… Please say aye.” His voice faded away as he drifted into slumber.

Ashlyn tucked him in again and the dogs came in and found a place at the foot of his bed.

He opened his eyes. “Ash, I’m cold.”

He shivered, so she glanced around for another plaid and found one in a chest against the wall. She yanked it out and dragged it over to the bed, but when she unfurled it over the mattress, a night rail fell on the floor at her feet. Once she covered him, she picked up the white night gown and held it up next to her.

“Lass, ‘tis Rhona’s. She was just a wee thing; you’ll never fit into her clothes. I should throw them away.”

“Aye, I can see I am a wee bit larger than she was.” She returned the small item to the chest.

His chuckle made her scowl, but then he said, “I will not have to worry about whether I hurt you when I make love to you. We shall have a wild time together.” He snorted and his breathing changed.

Everything he’d said was true. They would have a wild time together in bed, and she did not mind that she was larger than Rhona. She never would have survived all she had endured if she’d been petite.

She’d agreed to marry him, but her words did not seem to have registered in his mind. Mayhap he was too sickly. She would tell him again as soon as he awakened.

She leaned over to place a chaste kiss on his forehead. “You must fight this first, Magnus. Please do it for me. When you wake up, we will marry, and we will be ever so happy.”

A few moments later, Ashlyn’s mother rushed into the bed chamber. “How bad is his fever? Was he still able to talk?”

“Aye, but he was not making sense. He thought I was Rhona.”

“Och, they get delirious sometimes. You cannot trust what they tell you when they are delirious. Do not worry.” Her mother pulled a few items out of her satchel and set them on the chest.

“He did not say aught that I did not like. He really loves me, Mama. I do wish to marry him.” The last sentence ended with a sob.

Her mother handed a container to her. “Help me put these herbs on his chest, and see if we can get him to drink this. It may make his fever pass more quickly.”

Ashlyn did her best to awaken Magnus while her mother left the chamber to gather the rest of her things. When she returned, Ashlyn took Magnus’s hand in hers and rubbed the skin on the back. “Wake up just for a moment. We need you to drink this, Magnus. ‘Twill help with the fever.”

After much pushing and prodding, Magnus finally lifted his head with Ashlyn’s assistance. As soon as his gaze fell on her, a huge smile crossed his face. “Good morn, love.”

“Drink this for me, please?”

“I’d do aught for you, you know that.”

Her mother winked at her and held the goblet to his lips. To Ashlyn’s relief, he managed to get most of it down before his head fell back against the pillow.

Once they finished treating him, they moved back into the main chamber to let him get some rest. “Gracie did not return with me. Your aunt Madeline wished to speak with her, so she went to the keep.” She paused, then said, “I was hoping we could talk a little about your nightmares, Ashlyn. No matter what you say, I cannot help but feel at fault for them. I did everything I could to protect you and Gracie, but mayhap ‘twas not enough. I believe something happened to you that I knew naught about. Mayhap something involving Malcolm, or some other man who came to my house.”

“Mama, this is not necessary. I do not fault you. In fact, I know one of the instances, I just did not wish to tell you about it.”

“Please, for me? This troubles me as much as it troubles you. If you are to marry and start a new life, ‘tis important for you to be settled with the past.”

She finally nodded, and her mama led her over to the table. “Please tell me about the one incident that you recall,” Ashlyn’s mother said. “I need to know. My heart needs to know. What did I miss?”

She could see the tears her mother was trying to hold back, and she debated whether or not to tell her, but ultimately it was the right thing to do. Just before she started her story, Aunt Gwyneth entered the hut.

“How is he?” She came in and hung her mantle on the wall.

“He has a fever, but his wound looks fine,” Ashlyn’s mother said. “Come and sit with us. Mayhap you can help us.”

Gwyneth frowned. “What is it? I’ll try if I can, but you two look verra serious.”

“Ashlyn has had nightmares ever since we came to Clan Grant. She had another one last night. My hope is that if we can help her remember the source, they will no longer trouble her.”

“The same kind of nightmare you had in Edinburgh, Ashlyn?” Gwyneth sat down at the table with them.

“Aye, but that one concerned the man who had abducted me that night.”

“Och, Ashlyn. You have not told me much about that.” Ashlyn’s mother glanced at Aunt Gwyneth, but fortunately, her aunt did not reply.

“That discussion can wait, Mama.” She took a deep breath, then continued. “I’ve had two kinds of nightmares, one in which one man is trying to touch me and Gracie, and another in which there are two men. I recall the incident that led to the first one, but not the second one. ‘Tis the dream that awakened me last night. I’ve had it for years.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes in frustration. She’d done naught to tame her unruly tresses today. In a short time, she’d truly come to rely on Magnus.

Caralyn nodded her head. “We’re listening. Go ahead. I’ll do my best not to interrupt.”

While she talked, Aunt Gwyneth got up and stood behind her, combing her hair with her fingers and plaiting it. “The incident I recall happened the night after the Norse attacked.”

“When you hid near the beach,” her mama said. She was gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles.

“Aye. We did as you said. I thought we’d never see you again, so I found a place for us to sleep in the trees. I woke up when a man was touching me, so I hit him and he ran away.” She decided that was all she needed to tell her mother. She left out the part about Gracie and about how she’d stabbed the fool.

“So that is the source of one of your dreams?”

“Aye. I’m certain of that, and all my memories of that night have returned. He attempted to defile us, but he did not. He ran away, and I never saw him again.” She realized now that he had likely escaped—though she’d spent years thinking she’d caused the man’s death, Magnus had helped her see the more likely truth. “But this other dream, I only remember bits and pieces of it. I know not when it happened.”

“Tell us more,” Aunt Gwyneth said.

“There are two men. One reaches for me and I hit him, and then he tries to touch Gracie and I hit him. That is all that returns to me. I wake up screaming trying to hit him.”

“And the man does not look like Malcolm?” her mama pressed.

“Nay. Nor does he look like any other of your acquaintances. I remember them, and I recall how much you warned them all about touching us. In fact, Mama, now I understand everything you did and why you did it.” She looked into her eyes as she said it, needing her mama to know how much she appreciated all she’d done for them.

“Go on,” Aunt Gwyneth said. “I want to hear more about the two men.”

“One is big and the other is thin. They are both dirty and reek terribly. The thin one tries to touch us, and I hit him, and the big one always says the same thing. ‘Leave them be. They are too young, Fingal.’ I recall that from last night’s dream. I know no one named Fingal. Do you recall someone named Fingal, Mama?”

Her mother shook her head. “Nay. I never met a man named Fingal.”

“I do,” Gwyneth said, staring at her with an intent expression. “I know who Fingal is.” She finished plaiting Ashlyn’s hair before moving to the seat across from her. “I know exactly where that is from. Your mother was never there, but I was.”

Ashlyn glanced at her mother, but there was no recognition in her mother’s glance. Then her mother gasped and said, “Do you think so, Gwyneth? From near the creek with Robbie and Logan?”

“Aye. ‘Twas when your uncle and I found you,” Gwyneth said, reaching out to take her hand. “Malcolm sent you away with two fool men so he could control your mother. ‘Twas right after I met Logan.”

Caralyn’s face fell into her hands. Gwyneth continued. “You were held in a shabby hut by two men who were brothers. We searched almost all of the burgh before we found you. I doubt you were fed much because you were thin as can be, and I recall that you smelled almost as much as they did.”

Ashlyn looked aghast. “I do not recall aught about it.”

“Probably not. Your mind must have blocked the memory. Sometimes the mind does what it must to protect us. Do you know one of the reasons you were so upset?”

A tear trickled down her cheek as just the faintest of memories came back to her. Her aunt had given her a clue, something that had jarred her memory. She and Gracie had smelled. Her hand moved to her nose, rubbing it as the memory returned.

Aunt Gwyneth reached for her hand. “You were upset because you smelled. You hadn’t bathed in weeks, and Gracie was still in rags. You told me you were only allowed to change her rag once a day. Robbie, Tomas, Uncle Logan, and I found you, and we had to kill the two louts in front of you, which was not a pleasant experience. That could be why you pushed it out of your memory. At your age, that must have been traumatic for you.

“But the first thing you said after the fools were no longer a threat was that you were dirty.” She laughed. “And I was so young I had no idea what to do with you. ‘Twas your uncle Logan who stepped up. Robbie wanted to take you away from there as you were, but Uncle Logan said nay because he had taken care of Lily and Torrian when they had been sick. He knew how important cleanliness was to young ones. He ordered all of us to carry water up from the creek.”

Caralyn had tears running down her face when she lifted her face from her hands. “Do you remember?” she asked, staring into her eyes.

“I do. ‘Tis coming back in bits and pieces. Did Uncle Logan take Gracie’s rag off and dip her bottom in a basin, making her laugh?”

“Aye.” Aunt Gwyneth smiled at her.

“Ashlyn, I’m confused,” Ashlyn’s mother said. “I have asked you before if those two men were the ones in your nightmares and you always said nay.”

“Because I had no memories about it at all. I’m still not sure those are the two men, but the memory of that incident is returning to me.” She glanced at Aunt Gwyneth for confirmation. “And Uncle Logan gave me a basin and held a plaid up so I could wash myself and no one could see me. He even had a sliver of soap. It smelled wonderful, fresh and sweet.”

“All true. Now, can you remember the two? Fingal was thin, the other was taller and had a big belly…”

Ashlyn stood so fast that she knocked over the stool. She burst into tears. “Aye, ‘twas them. He wanted to touch us and do other things.” Her arms swung over her head as if the lout stood in front of her and she could pummel him with her fists. “Fingal did. He tried to touch us in the middle of the night—” her breath hitched, “—but the big one stopped him. Saints above, I recall.”

“Good, tell me what else you remember.” Her mother continued to push her.

“The place was so dirty.” Her eyes snapped shut and her hands braced her head as if she could prevent the images from bombarding her mind. “It smelled, they smelled…
we
smelled.” She wanted to bend over and retch, to put an end to the awful thoughts. She tugged on her plait as tears coursed down her face. “Gracie clung to me like never before. As wee as she was, it was as if she knew he was bad, bad to his core.”

She opened her eyes and stared at Aunt Gwyneth, then at her mother. “I remember. They only gave us one oatcake a day, yet they would stuff their faces in front of us, smacking their lips and chuckling. Gracie was so hungry.”

“And you gave your oatcake to Gracie, did you not?” Her mother swiped a tear of her own away.

“Aye. The first two days Gracie cried because she was hungry, but we both got used to it. And we went outside, and the rags were dirty. Mama, it was so vile.” She threw herself at her mother, wrapping her arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Ashlyn. I feel awful.” Her mother held her tight, and Ashlyn let herself take comfort in her soothing, familiar scent.