Highland Resurrection (Blades of Honor Book 2) (4 page)

Chapter 4

Lazarus used an iron poker to stir the coals beneath the pot of boiling water, then added some willow bark, coriander, and burdock to the potion. The medicinal plants would aid in reducing Sheena’s fever and would hopefully relieve some of her discomfort. While that simmered, he made a paste of crushed yarrow root, myrrh, coltsfoot, and comfrey to apply to the gash on her forearm.

Sheena’s moan caught Lazarus’s attention. He took a few steps in her direction, hoping she’d awakened, but the lass remained in a restless sleep. His gut twisted with concern and regret. If he didn’t manage to get the fever to break and failed to tend to her injuries quickly, she might not make it through the night.

When he first arrived at the hut and she assumed he was there to sate his carnal needs, the way she put her brother’s welfare before her own touched his heart. This sort of selfless virtue was something he’d not witnessed often in his tormented life and he admired it. Without his sister, Quinn would be left alone. Guilt stabbed at him, tightening his gut. If only he’d stayed and administered treatment yesterday when the incident happened.

Quinn sat on a small stool beside his sister’s pallet, his eyes fixed on Lazarus’s every move. “Sheena doesna look well and keeps whimpering in her sleep. Are you sure she isna going to die?”

“I intend to do everything in my power to keep that from happening.” Lazarus carried a wooden bowl filled with steaming liquid, several strips of linen, and a trencher containing the wound ointment to Sheena’s bedside. He squatted, then placed the healing supplies on the floor next to him.

Quinn followed, then knelt on the opposite side of the pallet. He screwed up his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. “That stuff smells awful.”

“Aye, I canna argue with you there. But it will help to heal the cut.” Lazarus carefully drew back the sleeve of Sheena’s gown, revealing her wound. He poured a bit of liquid from the bowl onto a piece of cloth, then used it to clean her arm, before covering her injury with a thick layer of herbal ointment. Once finished, he wrapped clean bandaging around her arm, then gently laid it across her chest. “With luck, this will start to take effect quickly. I would have put in a few stiches, but fortunately the wound isna too deep. Leaving the cut open will allow the poisons to escape.”

“When will you know if it works?” Quinn asked, his lower lip quivering as he spoke. “She is all the family I have, and dinna know what I would do if anything happened to her.”

“Let’s not think about that now. Hopefully, we have caught this in time and the ointment will take care of it. I also made a brew to help bring down her fever, which I’ll try to give her in a minute.” He offered the lad a reassuring smile, despite the fact he had serious concern he might in fact be too late to save her.

“Have you and Sheena lived in Berwick all your life? Do you na have a clan or family with which to live?” Lazarus asked in an attempt to get Quinn’s mind on something besides his sister’s state of health.

Quinn shook his head. “Nay, we just have each other.”

“What of your parents, your clan?”

“We were once members the Clan MacLean, but havena lived with them for a very long time,” Quinn answered. “I dinna know my mam or da. Sheena said my mother died giving birth to me, and my father got sick and passed when an illness hit the village in which we lived. So Sheena has taken care of me since I was a babe.” Quinn raised his chin and puffed out his chest. “That was nearly eight summers ago. I’m almost a man and will soon be able to take care of her.”

“Aye, you’re nearly grown and your sister is very lucky to have you.” Again the selfless way she cared for her brother was revealed. “You said she took care of you after disease ravaged the village in which you were born, so I take it you havena always lived in Berwick?”

“Nay. Sheena and I have lived in several different places over the past few summers. We are never in one village for long before Sheena says it is time to leave.”

“Constantly being on the move with no permanent place to call home isna easy for anyone.” Lazarus glanced down at Sheena. He guessed she was twenty-five summers, if that, and Quinn was nearly eight, so she was still a bairn herself when her parents died. Not many young women would have accepted the responsibility for their infant brother, without giving thought to their own future happiness. He admired her spirit and dedication to family.

Yet he could not help wondering about the rest of her clan. Quinn explained what happened to their parents, but surely the entire clan was not wiped out by illness. Why was no one willing to step up and help them? Again he focused on her face. She was a comely lass, yet she was not married. But she also bore a small jagged scar along her jawline, the mark of a whore. Was it the result of an accident or done deliberately? He preferred to think it was not intentional.

“You sound as if you know what it is like not to have a place to call home,” Quinn said. “Where is your clan?”

Lazarus grinned. For a young lad of only seven, Quinn was very astute. “I’m not sure. The monks found me when I was about fifteen summers, following a fierce battle between the Scots and the English. I was badly injured and they took care of me.”

“Kind of like what you’re doing for Sheena,” Quinn said, smiling.

“I suppose it is similar,” Lazarus replied. “But when I finally awakened, I had no memory of who I was or where I belonged. No one came forth to claim me, so I stayed at the abbey.” Unprepared to disclose any more about his past, he decided to end the conversation there.

“So you’re an orphan, like we are.”

“I guess I am at that.” Lazarus slid his hand beneath Sheena’s head, gently lifted it, then brought the bowl of steaming liquid to her lips. “It would be much easier to administer the brew were she awake, but this is the best I can do for now,” he said as he tilted the vessel.

Sheena sputtered and coughed, then turned away, most of the elixir dribbling down her chin. But he managed to get her to swallow a little.

Lazarus tried again, getting her to take a bit more, but he decided he’d have to wait until she awakened. Lazarus eased her head to the pallet, wiped her lips with a cloth, then rocked back on his heels. “That will do for now.”

“Is that brew going to make her better?” Quinn asked.

“I hope so. The rest will be in God’s hands.” Lazarus rose and smiled at Quinn. “Let’s see if we can find something for you to eat. I dinna see much in the way of supplies, but I’m sure I can manage to make something.” He moved to a wooden shelf, retrieved several clay crocks, and placed them on the table.

“Our food is nearly gone. The man who fetched Sheena home yesterday brought what she’d bought when in town, but when he saw how little we had, he gave me coin to buy some more supplies.” Quinn retrieved a small pouch and handed it to Lazarus. “I would have gone today, but I was afraid to leave her alone. Besides, if she found out, she’d tan my hide. Sheena never lets me go to town by myself.”

“That was wise. It is not safe for a young lad to go into Berwick alone, and your sister needed you here.” Lazarus peered into the pouch. “Fraser gave you a fair bit of money. This will buy quite a lot.”

Quinn nodded. “Aye, he looked as if he were wealthy and said the silver should help to tide us over for a while.”

Lazarus handed the money back to Quinn. “Tuck this somewhere safe. On the morrow, if Sheena is doing better, I’ll take you to town to get what you need. Perhaps we might even see if we can snare a rabbit or catch some fish in the stream.” Lazarus plucked a bowl from the shelf, then dumped the contents of one of the crocks into it. “But for tonight, oatcakes will have to suffice.”

“Nay, Roderick! Dinna touch me. You have no right to lay hand to me,” Sheena shouted.

Lazarus woke with a start, leapt from the pelt he’d strewn on the floor before the hearth, then raced to Sheena’s side. He could tell by the fine sheen of perspiration on her brow, the fiery redness of her cheeks, and shallowness of her breathing, that her fever had yet to break. If anything, it might be worse. The way she thrashed about in her sleep gave him even more cause for concern.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn stumbled toward his sister’s pallet, while rubbing his eyes with his fists. “I heard Sheena shouting. Is she awake?”

“Nay. She must have been dreaming about the men who attacked her. I suspect she knew them, because she called out one of their names.
Roderick.
” He ran his hand across her fevered brow.

“I dinna think so.” Quinn yawned. “Sheena has mumbled the name Roderick in her sleep many a night afore she was attacked. She often has bad dreams and always shouts out the same name.”

“Do you know who she means?”

Quinn shook his head. “Nay. And when I ask, she always changes the subject and tells me it is nothing to concern myself about.”

As Lazarus watched Sheena sleep, he couldn’t help wondering what secrets she carried. Aside from her recent attack, what was it that tormented her dreams and made her so defensive when awake? It was clear she found it difficult to trust anyone. Something he could actually relate to, so knew she must have her reasons. He gave his head a rough shake. Her past was none of his affair. He was here to tend to her present needs and nothing more.

“Can you fetch me the bowl of water from the table, Quinn? The one with the linen rag soaking in it. I want to wipe her down again.”

“Aye.” Quinn scampered across the room, then returned with the bowl and handed it to Lazarus.

“Thank you.” Lazarus took the bowl and placed it on the floor beside him. He retrieved the linen rag, then after wringing out the excess liquid, he draped the cloth across her forehead. “Her fever is still very high. I had hoped it might break by now.”

“Maybe you should give her more medicine. Would you like me to fetch it?” Quinn asked.

“Nay. You hold the cloth while I get the brew. It is hot and I dinna want you to burn yourself.” Lazarus dipped the rag into the cool water again, then handed it to Quinn. “Wipe her cheeks and her brow.”

The lad nodded, then did as instructed, while Lazarus went to the hearth, then returned with the healing potion. But he had no better luck at getting her to drink than he had earlier when he tried.

“What will happen if she doesna take the medicine?” Quinn asked, his lower lip quivering. “Will she die?”

“Dinna fash, your sister will be fine. By morning, she might be sitting up and ordering me to leave again.” Lazarus would welcome being exiled from her home if it meant she was no longer at risk of dying. “It is late. Go back to bed and try to get some more sleep.”

“I want to sit with her for a while,” Quinn replied. “She needs me.”

“You go back to your pallet, and I’ll stay by her side. I promise,” Lazarus said, then pointed to the lad’s bed. “Your sister wouldna be pleased if she knew you stayed up all night fretting about her.”

Quinn bobbed his head, then yawned. “Sheena never lets me stay up after the sun has set, and I’m still sleepy. You willna leave her alone?”

“If necessary, I’ll sit right here until dawn, or until her fever breaks, whichever comes first. You have my word,” Lazarus said. “Now back to bed and I’ll see you in the morning.” He waited for the lad to settle beneath his pelt and listened for rhythmic sound of his snoring to resume before returning his attention to Sheena. He folded his hands, bowed his head, and began to pray.

He’d asked the Lord for favors in the past, but this time, he hoped his prayers would be answered. “Please, God, find it in your heart to spare this lass. Her wee brother needs her and she has suffered enough in her young life. I ask you to watch over her and send me the skills necessary to heal her body.”

Chapter 5

Sheena struggled to open her eyes. Her head felt like it was stuffed with wool and she could not muster the strength to lift it. She licked her parched lips. Her mouth was as dry as dirt and she’d give anything for a sip of water.

Quinn!

Her chest constricted with worry. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, and if anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. Her mind raced with possibilities. All of them bad.

He is still a wee lad and—

She blew out a sigh of relief when she spotted him sitting on his stool by the hearth. But her anxiety quickly returned when she noticed a man sitting across from him.

“What are you doing in my hut?” she whispered, the effort used to speak draining her strength.

Quinn sprang from his seat. “She is awake,” he squealed with delight, then raced to her side and dropped to his knees. He lifted her hand and pressed it to his cheek. “I have been so worried about you, Sheena. I feared you might die and I’d be left alone.”

Quinn’s tears dampened the back of her hand and her heart clenched. “I would never leave you. We will be together always. I made you that promise when you were born, and I plan to keep it.”

“Brother Lazarus told me to have faith, that if I prayed really hard, you’d wake up. And he was right.” Quinn dragged his sleeve across his nose and sniffled. “Are you hungry? He made some oatcakes.”

“Not right now, but I would fancy some water.” She narrowed her gaze, peering in the monk’s direction.

Quinn nodded and raced to do her bidding.

Sheena found it impossible to hide her scowl of disapproval as Lazarus approached. She tugged the pelt under her chin. Her heart pounded in her ears and her stomach knotted with dread. But she’d not surrender to the unwelcomed emotions. Quinn’s safety and getting rid of this intruder were her only concerns.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake.” Lazarus pressed his palm to her brow. “And it appears your fever has broken as well.”

Sheena brushed his hand away. “You dinna answer my questions. Who are you and why are you here?”

“Do you not remember me?” He cocked his head to one side, appearing puzzled. “I am Brother Lazarus from Ayton Abbey. I aided you in the village when those men attacked you. You awakened three days ago, and I explained then who I was, and that I was here to help you. However until now, you have been delirious with fever, so it would explain your confusion.”

“I’ve been asleep for three days? How can that be?”

“Four if you count the day you were assaulted,” Lazarus replied.

She took in a gulp of air, but quickly closed her eyes and gritted her teeth against the excruciating pain crushing her chest. She coughed, and that made the agony worse.

“Try not to inhale so deeply,” he cautioned. “I suspect you have a few bruised ribs as a result of the beating you took from your assailants, along with some other injuries that might not be visible. It will take some time for them to heal, but only if you rest.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Try to lay still and I’ll fetch you whatever you need.”

“I’m fine and I dinna want your help.” She brushed his hand away. “Quinn and I manage quite well on our own. I thank you for your concern, but would like you to leave.”

Lazarus frowned. “We have already been through this. I plan to stay for as long as you need assistance.”

“Brother Lazarus has been taking care of you,” Quinn said as he returned with a cup of water. “He made a potion to help get rid of your fever and a poultice for your arm. You were very sick, but he healed you.”

The memories of the attack and Lazarus’s part in her rescue slowly returned, but she didn’t trust him, any more than she believed a man would do something for a woman without selfish motives. They all had but one thing on their mind. Sating their needs regardless of who was hurt in the process.

She refrained from looking him in the eye and instead spoke to Quinn. “I appreciate what he has done for me, but I’m much better and it is time for him to go.
Now
.” She pointed at the door and tried to sit up, but her head began to pound and spin, so she lay back down. She glanced at Lazarus then focused on her brother again. “Besides, what have I told you about the dangers of speaking to strangers?”

“But he isna a stranger anymore,” Quinn replied. “When he first arrived, I told him to go away, but you were so sick and—”

Sheena patted her brother’s hand. She’d have likely done the same thing if she was in his position. “I understand. But the time has come for him to leave.”

“You’re not well enough to care for yourself or the lad.” Lazarus took the cup from Quinn, then tipped it to her lips. “Take a sip to quench your thirst. I have a brew simmering over the fire that will ease your discomfort and help you to sleep.”

Sheena grasped the mug with both hands and drank greedily. Once she’d had her fill, she peered over the rim of the vessel at Lazarus. “I dinna wish to sleep. I’ve laid abed long enough, and must get up and see to the croft and Quinn’s needs.”

Lazarus chuckled. “I’m afraid you willna be rising any time soon. You had a high fever as the result of a festering knife wound on your arm, and your body is drained of its strength from that alone. Add the other injuries you’ve sustained and you’d not make it from here to the door without collapsing.”

“I dinna find any humor in my predicament,” Sheena said. “And I will be the judge of when I’m fit to rise, not you.”

“If I hadna arrived when I did, you might have died. And if na, there is a good chance you would have lost the limb.” He pointed to her injured arm. “This arrangement might not be to your liking, but you took a nasty beating, and must rest until you heal. If you try to get up too soon, you’ll only make things worse.”

“What do you know of such thing?” Sheena inquired.

“I’ve spent many years with the monks at Ayton Abbey,” Lazarus said. “Brother Simon taught me all he knew about healing.”

“You may dress like a cleric, but you dinna look or act like any monk I have ever known.”

“Should I be flattered or offended?” Lazarus grinned.

“Neither. I have also never seen a monk fight off attackers with the skill of a trained warrior the way you did.” She tried not to make eye contact with him, but it was not easy. It was even harder not to stare at his handsome face, rugged chiseled features, and strong chin. He was a tall, muscular man with broad shoulders and raven hair hanging loose about his collar—not shortly cropped like most monks. He did, however, dress in a monk’s robe, leaving her imagination running wild as to what lay beneath the garment. And when he smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth, her heart skipped a beat.

“It appears your memory of the attack has returned,” Lazarus pointed out, changing the topic of discussion. “While in your delirium, you called out a man’s name. Do you know either of the blackguards who assaulted you?”

“Nay. I have never seen them before.” She swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut as the events flooded back.

“If you can identify the men who did this to you, perhaps the local magistrate can see they are punished,” Lazarus said. “You mentioned the name Roderick several times.”

Her eyes flew open, her blood running cold. Had she actually called that out in her sleep? “I know no one by that name,” she lied. “Perhaps you were mistaken.”

“Your words were very clear. Quinn said he’s heard you cry out the same name when dreaming in the past,” Lazarus replied.

“Then he was mistaken too,” she declared. “I’m feeling very tired and would like to rest. So if you would take your leave, I would appreciate it.”

Lazarus placed his hand on her shoulder. “I already told you that I have no intention of going anywhere until you’re well enough to care for the lad and yourself. If you dinna wish to talk about the attack right now, fine. But I left you once when you needed my help and willna do it again. Not until I’m certain you’re well.”

Being touched by a man caused a shiver of trepidation skittering up her spine, but she’d show no fear. Sheena nibbled on her lower lip as she stared back at Lazarus. The stubborn man was not going to yield. Yet having him here made her most uncomfortable. She hadn’t trusted a man since she was seventeen and she never would again.

“Are you all right? Have you remembered something that might help us bring the men who accosted you to justice?” Lazarus asked.

Instead of answering, she absently stroked the scar on her chin and tried to shove the unpleasant memories of the past to the back of her mind, but failed. The day she was raped, then marked as a whore, suddenly felt like yesterday.

Her stepmother, Lillian MacLean, moaned then dragged a shaky hand across her lips. Heavy with child and about to deliver any day, she’d spent the better part of the last nine months hovering over a bucket, unable to keep much food or drink on her stomach.

“Are you feeling any better?” Sheena asked as she cupped her stepmother’s elbow and helped her to stand. “It willna be much longer. The babe will be here soon and this bothersome stomach ailment should pass.” She escorted Lillian to her bed and waited for her to sit.

“It canna be too soon for my liking,” Lillian replied. “I know your da is hoping for a son, and pray the babe will be a lad. I have no intention of going through this again. Your father can take a mistress if he wishes, but I’ll not warm his bed in future.”

Sheena offered a sympathetic nod and patted the back of Lillian’s hand. “I know this hasna been an easy go of it for you. But once you hold the wee one in your arms, you will forget all you’ve had to endure.”

It took her father’s third wife four summers to finally carry a babe this far along. After three stillborn births, then this time suffering from nonstop stomach queasiness and almost losing the babe twice, Sheena could understand Lillian’s decision to abstain.

Her da was getting on in years, having seen more than two score, but like most men, he was determined to sire a son. Sheena, an only child from his first marriage, served as a constant reminder of his failure to produce a male heir. He never missed a chance to tell her so, or that she was a source of disappointment. She prayed this babe would be a lad and her father would finally be happy.

“I need you to go into the woods and fetch the herbs that settle my stomach.” Lillian lay on the bed with her forearm draped over her brow.

“I’d be happy to do your bidding, but it is late, the sun having set several hours ago. Could I na wait til morning?”

“You heard your mother. You will go now and make haste.” Her father, Donald MacLean, stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

“This is the perfect time to pick the herbs,” Lillian said. “For them to be effective, they must be gathered under the light of a full moon. Otherwise, I wouldna ask you to go.”

Sheena set no store in superstition, but if it would appease her stepmother and keep her father happy, so be it. “Very well. I’ll get my
arisaidh
and leave right away.”

As Sheena entered the forest at the edge of the village, a shiver of dread skittered up her spine. Uncertain if it was caused by the chilly night air or the sense of foreboding she had the moment she left the footpath, she tugged her woolen shawl over her head and clutched the fabric at the throat.

Rays of moonlight filtering through the trees illuminated the mist-covered ground. And while she was alone, she could not shake the uneasy feeling that someone was watching her. She quickly gathered the herbs, then headed for home.

“Where are you going on this fine evening?” a man asked as he stepped out of the shadows.

Startled, Sheena gasped, then turned to run, but another man blocked the path. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“Why you, my dear,” the first man said as he moved into view. “Do you know who I am?”

Sheena offered a hesitant nod. “Aye, you’re Roderick Morgan, son of the laird.”

“Correct,” he said, grinning, then closed the gap between them. “And what might your name be? You’ve caught my eye on more than one occasion and I have yet to learn your identity.”

“Sheena MacLean.”

“The merchant’s daughter?”

She nodded.

“I’m surprised to find you out at this late hour without an escort,” Roderick said, then took a step closer. “I guess this is my lucky night.”

“My stepmother is with child and has been feeling poorly. She sent me to fetch some herbs.” Sheena held up a wilted bunch of greens and wildflowers. “She is waiting for me, so I ask that you please let me be on my way.”

“I’m not ready to let you depart,” Roderick growled. “I wish to get to know you better.” He cupped her chin, raising it until their eyes met.
“Much better
.”

Her chest constricted and she found it hard to breathe. She may be young, but she knew what he meant. “Please, I most humbly request that you let me go and dinna pursue this. You’re the son of a laird and I am merely the daughter of a commoner. Surely there are women of your status more suitable than me.” She fisted her hands in her skirt to keep them from trembling, but she could not hide the shakiness in her voice.

“Aye, but it is you I desire. A man has needs and I mean to sate mine here and now.” He grabbed the neck of her chemise, then ripped it open.

Sheena clutched at the torn fabric, but her attempt to hide her naked breasts failed when he grabbed her wrists. “Please, I beg of you—” she began, but her plea was cut short when his mouth crashed down on hers and he forced his tongue between her lips.

She gagged at the pungent odor of whisky on his breath. He’d obviously been drinking and was well in his cups. But that did not excuse his abhorrent behavior. She struggled, but was no match for his brawn.

“Make haste, Roddy, someone could happen upon us at any moment,” his companion warned.