Legacy of the Mist Clans Box Set (96 page)

He could not help the chuckle that rumbled through him. “Shall I go tae market and fetch ye some just so ye can toss them at me?”

He heard her release her breath. “Ruffian,” she muttered.

“Try codswallop.”

“Codswallop,” she snapped.

“Nay, I’m no’ Aidan. That doesna work on me either.” He glanced up just as a pillow sailed across the room and smacked him in the head. Another chuckle rumbled through him. “At least yer aim is improving.”

She finally laughed, but his humor faded the instant she began to cough again.

“Mairi?” He waited, but she didn’t reply and her cough settled. She finally crawled into bed, extinguishing the lamp.

To Connell’s surprise, the tension coiling through him did not ease with his victory. The house fell silent, and he was certain he was the only one who did not sleep. Mairi’s cough wracked through her several times. As the night aged, it became more frequent and more worrisome. He managed to doze, but every time her cough sounded, it jerked him awake.

Finally, he could stand it no longer and rose from his bedroll. “Mairi?” he called softly. Her cough sounded again, and he crawled onto the bed, reaching for her. “Are ye all right?”

She groaned softly as he touched her forehead, and he sucked in his breath. “Ye be fevered.”

“C-cold,” she whispered, shivering violently. She had curled into a ball on the edge of the bed.

Connell did not know what came over him, but he lifted the blankets and slid under them, pulling Mairi into his embrace.

She shivered against him and coughed again. Connell gritted his teeth as the spasms wracked through her, but she slowly uncoiled. He soothed her, gently brushing her hair from her face. Ever so slowly, she relaxed against him, and he knew the moment sleep finally claimed her. He squeezed his eyes closed and buried his face in the wealth of her hair, refusing to admit to himself this was exactly where he wanted to be.

“But I took the gift the Almighty had given me for granted . . . so the Almighty took His gift back.”

~
Connell MacGrigor

M
airi bit back a groan as the growing light of dawn stabbed her eyes. Her entire body ached, and her cough would not stop. But that was not what had truly awakened her. What roused her from her fitful slumber was Adam’s soft burble. She knew he was awake and expected to hear him cry for his breakfast, but she was surprised when she didn’t.

Her vision finally focused and she blinked, wondering if she was ill enough that she was hallucinating. Connell, fully dressed, held Adam against his shoulder. He spoke softly to the bairn as he headed toward the door. Adam gazed up at him completely enthralled, effectively distracted from his hunger for a time.

But what shocked Mairi the most was the ease with which Connell held Adam. He had always avoided contact with the bairn, even ignoring him at times.

Connell reached out to catch the door, hesitating as he looked down at Adam. He gave the bairn an arched look and then grinned at him, revealing yet again that brilliant smile she so rarely saw. Adam immediately returned it and settled his head contentedly against Connell’s shoulder, sucking loudly on his fist.

Connell froze in place. His smile vanished, and he squeezed his eyes closed, anguish suddenly lining his features. His shoulders bowed as if under a great weight, but he held the child tightly to him. “William,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with heartbreak and pain.

Tears blurred her eyes, and she pushed herself up. “Connell?”

He looked at her sharply, but his anguished expression did not ease, his blue eyes liquid with unshed tears. “Forgive me,” he said softly. “But ye slept so fitfully last night I was trying tae give ye a few more minutes before I had tae leave.”

She appreciated his effort, but the anguish she sensed within him seemed to grow each moment he held Adam. She held out her hand to him, and he slowly approached, offering Adam to her. But instead she caught his arm and pulled. He didn’t expect that and unceremoniously sat on the edge of the bed.

“I canna abide yer suffering,” she whispered, staring up at him. She decided to follow her instincts and finally dared to ask the question she had never had the courage to voice. “How did ye lose them, Connell?”

A shudder passed through him, and he could not hold her gaze. But when he looked down at Adam, the pain in his blue eyes only seemed to grow worse. Instead of pulling away like he normally did, he carefully placed Adam into her arms and wrapped them both in his embrace as he rested his back against the headboard.

The chemise she wore was made for breastfeeding. Without concern, she opened it and allowed Adam to nurse. She didn’t cover herself as she normally did, but instead willingly shared this very private moment with Connell. She heard him suck in a soft breath, and his arm tightened around her shoulders. His fingers traced over her cheek, down her throat, then softly caressed her bare breast as Adam suckled. She nearly groaned at the desire that shot through her. Connell’s fingers lingered a long moment before traveling to Adam, touching the soft fuzz of his hair until Connell’s large hand cradled the back of the babe’s head.

He held them so tightly she could feel him shaking. “They were all I had in this world,” he whispered, his voice breaking in grief. “But I foolishly took them for granted. I was no’ strong enough tae hold on tae them. Now they rest in the arms of the Almighty.”

She stared up at him, trying to make sense of his words. “What happened?”

He shook his head harshly. “Ye dinna deserve tae be brought into my pain.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I must go. Ye still be fevered. Rest today, Mairi, I will return at Nones tae check on ye.”

“Connell—”

“Get some rest,” he said firmly. He pulled away and rose. In an instant, the walls he had built around himself returned, and he set his jaw in grim determination. Without looking back, he strode from the room and closed the door behind him.

HHH

Connell stood over the forge wearing only his trewes and boots. Sweat rolled down his back and chest as he threw himself into his work, but the heat from the forge and the metal he worked only solidified the memory of the fever he had felt radiating through Mairi’s body. That, in turn, brought another agonizing memory powerfully to the forefront of his thoughts.

The memory of his wife and the fever that had gone too high. The memory of holding her in his arms as her body convulsed. The memory of Lia—the healer he had brought from England to Scotland to tend to his wounded laird—throwing herself into the battle to save the lives of so many.

And she had saved lives. Unfortunately, Connell’s wife, brother, and eventually his son had not been part of that number. He had lost them all within days of each other.

All due to blighted grain.

The reason was simple, but there was far more to it, and Connell knew he could never hope to explain it; there was no reason to try. He should have gone home immediately upon his return to the castle, but he had no idea his wife and son had fallen ill. He had loved Ina, but their marriage had had more than their share of trials. Connell had always attributed it to being married so young. But now he could so clearly see his mistakes that he marveled they had not thumped him between the eyes back then. Perhaps they had, but he had been too stubborn to pay any heed.

Whenever he left on a duty for his laird, he and Ina always argued. Instead of being glad to see him when he returned, Ina only argued with him with renewed bitterness. After fetching Lia from England and bringing her to Glen Gyle, he had been terribly weary from his journey and had no stomach for another fight, not until he had rested. But in making that decision, he had damned those he loved most to the illness that took their lives. It was only when William came to the keep and sought Lia’s aid the next morning that he learned the truth. Even then, Connell wouldn’t have known if it had not been for Lia sending Lachlan to fetch him.

He should have gone home the night he had arrived. If he had, perhaps the illness could have been caught sooner and Lia could have done more. Connell now clearly saw how he had allowed too much to come between him and his family.

He had indeed taken the gift he had been given for granted, so the Almighty took the gift back.

Connell snarled a curse and jerked the metal he was working off the anvil, dousing it in water. It sizzled and spat, a cloud of steam rising.

In the fog that wrapped around him, he heard his own voice begging his wife to survive, begging his son to live. Within its murky depths, he saw the shadows of his past. He had lost his Ina and his young brother, but his ten-year-old son yet lived. William’s youth and his previous good health had made him the most likely to survive. But the death of his mother had struck William a hard blow. Connell had begged and pleaded with the lad to fight for his life. But just like his mother, William had died in his arms.

Connell lifted his head, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the sweat that dripped from his brow. At last cool, he pulled the metal from the water, trying to shove down the agonizing memories.

In the distance, he heard the church bells ring for Nones. He placed the metal on his workbench and put his tools away. He wiped the sweat and tears from his face. He longed to leave the pain of his past where it belonged—in his past—but how could he forget them? How could he turn his back on the most precious thing in the world to him? Especially because they had died not knowing just how much they had meant to him. Connell had always placed duty first, and that had been a terrible mistake.

Ina had pleaded with him not to go. Every time he had to leave, she would beg him to stay, and when her tears did not move Connell, her fury took over, and she would let loose with her sharp tongue and usually anything within arm’s reach that she could toss at his head. But Connell had always remained resolute to his duty. Why hadn’t he listened? Why couldn’t he have stayed home just once?

Now, it was too late. Now, he walked this world alone. But how alone had they been when their husband and father had been leagues away serving his laird?

It was a duty that the MacGrigor had not forced on Connell. There was nothing more important to Ronan than family, and he would have given Connell leave if he had only asked.

But Connell had not given it a second thought—not until he had lost what was precious to him.

He hauled on his tunic and strode from the shop. The memory of Ina’s fever haunted him, and he would make certain to at least check on Mairi periodically throughout the day.

Working less than a stone’s throw away from their home made that simple to do. He approached the front door and drew a steadying breath, trying to force the memories from his thoughts. As he reached to open the door, he heard a sound that chilled his heart. Little Adam was wailing piteously, but he did not hear Mairi.

Oh God, what was wrong? She never allowed the bairn to cry so.

He shouldn’t have left her. She had been fevered. What if it had worsened?

He twisted the latch with the same force that twisted his heart in his chest. “Mairi!” he called as he shoved the door open. “Mairi!”

Connell froze as he saw Mairi in the middle of the room scoop Adam into her arms. He blinked. Her face was a bit pale, but she appeared just fine. She looked at him, startled at his abrupt entry.

Connell only now realized he was shaking. “Are ye all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Adam was upset with me because I was cooking yer meal and couldna leave it tae attend tae him immediately. I fear the time on the trail has spoiled him. He needs tae learn a bit of patience. I canna drop everything and run tae him the instant he squalls.”

He closed the door behind him and drew a ragged breath into his lungs. “I told ye tae rest today.”

“I did for most of the morning, Connell,” she said, smiling gently. “My fever broke earlier.”

He didn’t believe her one whit. He stalked toward her, but she gazed up at him unflinchingly as he felt her forehead. No fever. Not even the slightest trace of one. He blew out the breath he held.

“I told ye.”

“Aye. I just heard the bairn wailing so and . . .” He bit off his words.

“Forgive me. But ye said ye’d be home at Nones, and I wanted ye tae have a good meal. Smithing is hard work.”

He inhaled deeply, the scent of the food making his belly rumble. “It smells wonderful.”

“Come, sit at the table.”

Connell nodded and followed her into the kitchen. But he noted that his heart was slow to return to its normal pace, and his stomach still felt like it was in his throat. As he watched Mairi bring his dinner to the table, he found himself hoping that her fever would not return. Not only did he not wish her to be ill, it brought too many painful memories vividly to life.

HHH

Thankfully, by that evening Mairi’s cough cleared without her fever returning, but suddenly Connell found himself in a bit of a fix.

“Will ye sleep in the bed?” she asked again that night. Connell noticed that this time she only asked once and didn’t argue when he told her nay.

Connell stubbornly flopped on his bedroll and found himself staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Smithing was hard work and trying to sleep on an even harder floor wasn’t doing him any favors.

The next morning, his muscles ached so terribly he could barely move, and he was absolutely exhausted, feeling as if he had just wrestled a bear instead of simply tossing and turning on his bedroll.

“Connell, are ye all right?”

“I be fine,” he said tightly. He choked down his breakfast, his appetite gone, and quickly left the house.

Connell had the shop open, the fires burning in the forge, and had just placed the steel on his workbench when Smith entered, whistling a merry tune. “Good morrow, Connell.”

“Good morrow, Smith.”

“Are ye settling in with yer family all right?”

“Aye,” Connell said and nodded. “’Tis a wonderful home.”

Smith gave him an arched look. “And ye have a list of repairs as long as yer arm, do ye no’?”

Connell’s lips twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face and shook his head. “I have mighty long arms. The list be only half as long.”

Smith laughed. “Bring it with ye tomorrow. We shall see what we can do.”

“Honestly, ’tis no’ as bad as that. The worst of it is the spit needs tae be replaced. The rest I can take care of myself if ye give me leave tae use the shop.”

“Of course, laddie. Use anything ye need. Just keep a tally. It is my property, so the expense be mine, I just need tae keep an accounting of it.”

“Aye,” Connell said with a nod. He focused again on his work and lifted his hammer. Movement in the yard caught his eye, and he turned his head, wincing as a muscle grabbed in his neck. He abruptly lowered his hammer, but the sharp action only made the seizing muscles worse. He muttered a curse under his breath. It took him a moment, but he finally worked the kink loose just as he saw a lad of about eight enter the yard.

He was a gangly thing, all feet and knobby knees visible under his threadbare trousers. A good stiff breeze would knock him over. Connell scowled and looked at Smith.

“Ye be late,” Smith said to the lad.

“Sorry. It willna happen again.”

“Connell, this be Marcus. His da owns a plot of land just outside the walls. When he doesna have much work, his da sends him here tae earn some extra coin.”

“He works here?” Connell couldn’t keep the incredulous tone from his voice. Surely Smith was jesting. Some of their smallest tasks involved metal heavy enough to crush the lad like a bug.

“He’s stronger than he looks,” Smith replied, his lips twitching. “He does well enough tae hold horses and fetch and carry.”

Connell looked again at Marcus then back to Smith. “If ye insist.”

“I do.”

“Verra well, then.” He looked at the steel on his bench and lifted his hammer once more.

“Connell!” Mairi’s voice called.