Highland Moonlight (35 page)

into the structure, but she resisted. “Lady Mary can help him, lass. Do you

not ken that?”

“She will not help him, she will bring harm to him because of what

Alexander and I shared,” she accused, glaring at Mary.

“‘Twould take a heartless beast to reap petty jealousies upon a

helpless child, Tira.” Mary said, anger at the woman bringing a surge of

warmth to her cold face. “You and Gabriel will be here to see I do not do

such a thing.”

The wind thrust hard against them whipping snow and ice into the air

and forcing itself beneath Mary’s skirts and cloak. She sucked in her breath

and turned her back to the gale.

“I do not know of cures and such. You could poison my son and I

would not know what you were about.”

Mary sucked in her breath again, this time against the blow of such an

insult. She turned away, but Gabriel grasped her arm drawing her back. “I

will be the first to drink of any cures she offers him. Would that ease your

fears, Tira?”

Tira’s green gaze went from his face to Mary’s once again. “If my son

dies because of her, ‘twill be you and her I will hold at fault, Gabriel.”

Anger hardened the man’s features making him appear dangerous as

his brown eyes went dark with emotion. “He may yet die because of your

own stubborn pride, woman. Is that what you wish?”

“Nay!” she denied, her voice sharp. A sudden round of harsh coughing

drew her attention. “Enter if you will, I must go to him.” She stepped aside,

leaving the door open behind her.

Gabriel urged Mary inside then shut and secured the door, sealing out

the elements. The heat of the fire provided a welcome relief against the

harsh breath of icy wind. Evidence of the fire that had burnt the interior of the

room still blackened the stones of the hearth, but the walls had been

plastered with a fresh layer of mortar and the log beams that held the roof

put out a faint scent of freshly cut wood. A table with two chairs, a stool, a

narrow bed, and a small wooden trunk were the only furnishings in the

room along with an assortment of sundry housekeeping articles.

Shedding her outer layer of wrappings, Mary set aside the basket she

carried. She strode forward to stand on the opposite side of the bed from

Tira. Her attention focused on Cassidy as he wiggled fitfully beneath the

pelts covering him trying to kick them away. His skin was flushed a fiery red,

his eyes glassy and bright as he looked up for a moment then went back to

his restless rocking.

“We must get his fever down,” she said, urgency in her tone. “Gabriel,

go outside and fill two buckets with snow and bring them in.”

Her instructions were barely voiced before he rushed to do her biding.

Her attention focused on Tira. Have you any tartans about?”

“Aye. The woman moved to the chest and returned with the woolen

blankets.

Mary threw back the heavy pelts and quickly encased the child in the

wraps. Frightened by his sluggish movements and the heat emanating

from his small body, she laid a soothing hand against his brow and

murmured a few words of comfort as much to control her own racing heart

as to ease the child.

“Spread it over the tartans then refill the buckets,” she instructed when

Gabriel returned. “I need a brazier with which to heat water and herbs. Once

we have covered him with snow you must ride to the castle and return with

one.”

“Aye.”

The three of them covered the restless child with a layer of snow then

Mary covered the bed with a heavy pelt. Within minutes, the child’s cheeks

became a less vivid color of red as his temperature lowered.

“Hurry now, Gabriel, the brazier.”

He crossed the room with long quick strides slamming the door

behind him.

Cassidy began to shiver beneath the weight of snow.

“He is too cold. We must take the snow off of him,” Tira said, throwing

back the pelt.

“Nay, not yet. We must first brew some willow bark to keep his fever

down lest he become over-hot again,” Mary said.

The boy began to cry. Tira turned to comfort her child.

Mary crossed to the hearth and dipped some water into a small pot

there. She retrieved her basket and sorted through the contents setting

several bundles on the hearth. She ground willow bark with a mortar and

pestle then emptied the powder into a small square of fabric and bound the

top. Dropping the pouch into the water, she set it over the fire to steep. In

another vessel, she poured vinegar and ground licorice, setting it close to

the flames to melt. She returned to the bed and placed a soothing hand on

Cassidy’s forehead to find him cooler to the touch. “We may remove the

snow now,” she said as she reached for the wooden bucket and began

scooping snow off the cocooned child.

The sodden tartans replaced with dry ones, Cassidy seemed more

comfortable. Mary poured the liquid over the fire into a wooden cup and set

aside to cool. “‘Tis willow bark tea. ‘Twill help keep his fever from burning

so hotly.” She poured the melted licorice concoction into a similar vessel

and put it on the table. “‘Twill ease the cough and sooth his throat.”

She drew a chair to take a closer look at the boy now his fever

appeared temporarily under control. The freckles across his nose stood out

against the paleness of his skin. His throat looked red and raw, his cough

harsh and deep. Mary propped him up with pillows to make it easier for him

to breath.

“Gabriel said you killed a man,” Tira said. “A prisoner. One of your

brother’s men.”

Mary flinched inwardly and remained silent for a moment, her attention

focused on the child. “Aye.”

“‘Twill take more than that for you to be one of us.”

Mary drew a deep breath and reminded herself she was here for the

child’s sake, not his mother’s. “I did not do it to be one of you, Tira. I did it to

protect Alexander and Grace from harm.” She finally turned her head to look

at the woman, but found only skepticism in Tira’s green eyes.

They both turned as Gabriel entered the hut without knocking. He

shook the snow from his hair and strode to Mary with a cloth sack. “Frazier

sent a poultice he thought would do the lad good. ‘Tis to be put on his

chest.”

Mary withdrew the metal brazier from the sack and a crockery jar

sealed with a cloth.

“I will get the coals from the fire for you, Lady Mary,” Gabriel said. He

shook free of the heavy fur robe then reached for the metal disk fashioned to

hold the coals. Mary rose to get water from the hearth. She ground more

herbs and sprinkled them into the water then set it atop the brazier. Steam

soon rose in the air close to the bed and a pungent smell filled the room.

She handed Gabriel the cup of willow bark tea. “‘Tis to cool the lad’s

fever. Will you taste the brew?”

Gabriel didn’t hesitate though he grimaced at the taste of the liquid.

She repeated her request with the licorice laced cough remedy and he

complied.

“If you are satisfied I am not trying to harm the lad, you may spoon both

into his mouth, a few spoonfuls at a time,” she said to Tira.

Gabriel lifted a heavy pot of water onto the hearth and hung it over the

flame. Mary added more herbs to the water. The air in the room soon

became muggy with moisture and heat.

She loosened the neckline of her surcoat as sweat beaded her skin.

“‘Twill be many hours before we may see a change. We must wait.”

****

above the camp. Snow coated the blankets of fur covering every man and

beast. The animal’s body heat offered them warmth and they in turn kept

their mounts from freezing by sharing the protection of the pelts.

Though the worst of the storm had passed, the wind still blew quite

fiercely. Early morning sunlight bathed the fresh banks of white with a

reddish hue and the hillside cast purple shadows across the pristine

surface.

Hugh arose and began rebuilding the fire. Soon others began to stir

then wandered away from camp a short distance, seeking privacy to relieve

themselves away from Anne. Derrick and Douglas passed out shares of

bread and meat.

One after another, the horses were urged to their feet. The animals

shook themselves then stomped their hooves as though to relieve cramped

muscles from being forced to recline on the ground.

Alexander straightened from his position against one of the larger

oaks and turned his attention to the north. Light reflected off something in

the distance. He squinted against the sun’s glare on the snow to focus on

the area. Movement, faint and indistinct, brought tension to his muscles. He

covered his mouth with the wool scarf about his neck and waited.

A shadow cast on the snow had him jerking the scarf down, cupping

his hands around his mouth, and whistling a bird’s call down toward the

camp below him. The men moved quickly to arm themselves with swords

and bows. With some difficulty, a group of six archers climbed the hill

behind him. Alexander pointed northward and motioned for them to spread

out and seek cover.

“‘Tis the ones that attacked us,” Derrick said in a whisper from beside

him.

“Aye,” he agreed, having recognized several of the horses. He weighed

the wisdom of attacking in retaliation or letting the troop pass. Only three

extra pack animals trailed behind them. They carried no extra bounty just

water and food, thus there was no evidence they had attacked the village in

their absence.

The band of men had become a distant ribbon of movement to the

south before Alexander gave the signal to regroup below.

“I will not order any two of you to follow, but would ask for two to

volunteer. I would know once and for all what clan ‘tis that threatens us.

We’ll be prepared to deliver retribution to the ones responsible, when next

we meet.”

“I’ll follow them, Alexander,” James, one of the youngest clansmen,

spoke.

“I suppose I too will have to go, to see he does not get captured,”

Robert, his brother, said.

Alexander eyed the two. Neither had a wife or children to consider. “I

do not wish either of you to risk yourselves. You are to follow them, nothing

more. You will return as soon as you might with word of where they go and

who they meet.”

The brothers nodded.

“‘Tis I who will see to the care of your mother until your return,” he

assured them.

James grinned.

“Keep your hair covered lest they think you are some kin of mine,” he

teased, breaking the tension of the group.

He listened to the cautious advice offered by the other men as the two

prepared to leave. Two of the men loaded a packhorse with provisions and

extra pelts for them.

Once the two were mounted, Alexander tossed Robert a money pouch.

“Lest you need food or shelter along the way.”

“Where are they going?” Anne asked as the two rode out.

“To visit your father mayhap,” he replied, “if ‘tis where the clan they

follow leads them.”

“What reason would my father have to send men here?” Anne asked.

“Mary would not speak agin me so he could claim my lands and take

my life in retribution. He challenged her good name and called her a

whore.” He acknowledged the shock that crossed her features with a nod.

“Mary has broken her ties with him and no longer calls him father.” He

focused on the men as they readied the horses to leave.

“Should I be killed, Collin would not gain my land, but control of your

sister once again. Mayhap to wed to Bearach MacDonald as he wished to

do before.” He turned his head just in time to catch a fleeting look on Anne’s

face that sparked an instant suspicion. Why
had
she arrived in so secret a

manner? Her skin looked pale in the new morning light, her nose bright red

from the cold.

“We will arrive at
Caisteal Sith
by midday,” he relented then strode

away to saddle his mount.

If he did not want to distance Mary, he would have to learn to control

his resentment toward her sister and half-brother.

****

once again with a fit of coughing and spat into the cloth his mother held for

him. The cough was no longer tight and unproductive, but loose and rattling.

“He is worse,” Tira accused.

“Nay.” Mary shook her head. “He is no longer drowning, but coughing

the poisons up. His fever is down as well. We must continue until the

coughing eases and the fever is gone.”

“How long will that take, Lady Mary?” Gabriel asked.

“Mayhap three or four days.” Mary stretched to ease the cramp in the

small of her back and kneaded the tired muscles. They had all dozed in