Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (177 page)

“So, this is how it’s to be now,” Bran mused.

Aeden hoisted himself onto Honeybush’s back and raised an eyebrow at his host’s comment. “Say your piece afore it eats at you, Bran.”

“I nivver thought you would prefer a woman to warring.”

A smile broke over Bran’s face and Aeden grinned in return.

“Well, I never thought to have such a woman waiting for me.”

Bran held out his hand, and Aeden took it. “This old man is gladdened to see you have found love.”

Staggered by Bran’s offhand statement, Aeden’s eyes went wide.

Bran’s brows arched in surprise. “You look shocked, my boy. If I’ve spoken out of turn, forgive me, but if you’re not a man who’s in love with his woman, I’ll drink my weight in mead.”

Aeden laughed, and his grin broadened. “Well, it seems I’ve saved you from a sore head in the morn.”

The older chief roared with good humor.

“Good on ye boy, but I believe I shall take my chances with the mead and drink to the happy couple. Safe journey, my friend.”

A smile lingered on Aeden’s face as Bran disappeared through the keep doors and rode out of the quadrangle, past the gatehouse and beyond the gates.

All of a sudden, Aeden became aware of a lone rider bearing down on him from the east. He circled his horse around and drew his sword and braced for an attack. He heard a snick as the guards standing watch on the barbican notched their bow. In the faint light, the Maxwell colors were visible and he recognized the Caeverlark messenger. His gut dropped. Tam would only send word if it were life and death. His first reflections veered to Elisande as horse and rider skidded to a halt.

His face set in grim lines, he demanded, “What news?”

Swallowing hard, Magnus began, “Chief, you — ” He stopped and looked down.

By now, Aeden’s mind had conjured horrendous scenarios all involving Elisande. Normally his men were adept at containing sentiment. Witnessing Magnus struggle with his composure put him on high alert.

“Your hesitation irritates me.”

His reprimand seemed to snap his soldier from his stupefied condition. “’Tis my lady, there has been an accident,” he blurted.

“Is she dead?” he rasped.

“She — ” Once again he halted.

Aeden blanched, wheeled his mount around and gave the warhorse his head.
There had been an accident.
He tore across the countryside, oblivious to his surroundings while Magnus’s words rung in his ears. The expression on the young soldier’s face terrified him more than any words the boy uttered. Aeden dug his heel into the buckskin’s flank urging him faster.

“You will no’ take her from me, no’ now,” he whispered and tipped his head to the sky. “Do you hear me? You can no’ take her!”

• • •

Time ceased to exist for Elisande. She’d no idea how long she had clung to the rocks, her hand trapped amid the stone barriers submerged in the frigid water. The will to cry out left her long ago. Earlier, the wind picked up and whipped the water into a frothy chop that battered her against the jagged rocks. With each relentless blow, she prayed for the sweet relief of oblivion. And although the water had calmed once more, the thought of giving herself over to the loch’s murky depths weakened her will to fight. No more pain, no more cold, she thought and closed her eyes.

“Here — along the shoreline, footprints!”

She started, and then tried to lift her head from the rock certain she heard a voice, though uncertain if her mind conjured the thing she wanted the most. Her head was fuzzy, and her limbs were weighted. She lay there and drifted into semi-wakefulness. Near the shore, a strong glow lit up the beach. The light reached across the surface of the water like ribbons of hope that almost illuminated her face. She decided the voices were real and cried out. All of a sudden, the torch’s lights blazed as they held them aloft in her direction.

“Mother of God … on the rocks! ’Tis a white sheet afloat on the water. Looks like a woman’s linen.”

“I see it too,” she heard another man agree.

“Form a chain,” instructed a deep voice.

Every time she closed her eyes, a figure appeared to move closer to her, until he scooped her into his arms.

“I’ve got her, now pull.”

Her body cut through the water as she was pulled to safety. She tried to stay awake, but exhaustion won out and she tumbled into a black abyss of nothingness. A jarring motion awakened her and she struggled to speak, open her eyes or move a limb. Not one part of her body cooperated. All she could do was to lay motionless on the gritty sand and listen to the words flow around her.

“Roll her to her side,” Tam instructed.

“Should we not take her to the keep straightaway?”

“Aye,” Ian added, “She needs to get warm.”

“Aye, aye, but we need to expel water from her chest or she will be dead afore we reach the lower bailey.”

Then meaty hands pushed in upward strokes alongside her spine, and an overwhelming urge to retch came over her.

“Come on, lass, dinna leave your mon to grieve you.”

The mention of Aeden pushed a sob from somewhere deep in her gut and in an instant a powerful gush of water spewed from her mouth followed by a spate of coughing and wheezing.

“She’s breathing!”

Her eyelids fluttered and Tam’s craggy face came into sharp focus.

“Tam — ”

One instant she was on the ground and the next swaddled in a dry plaid. Black edges of oblivion crept around the fringes of her vision and when next she opened her eyes, the scent of rosemary tickled her senses and her aunt’s tearful directives echoed in the hall.

“Throw more wood on the fire in Lady Maxwell’s chamber. Gather clean, dry plaids, warm two by the fire, and send Morag to attend me.”

Once in her room, the two women shooed the men out and set to work. They relieved her of her sodden garments and dressed her in a dry, woolen night rail. Onora instructed Morag to build up the fire. In no time, the hearth blazed and chased the chamber’s chill away. Elisande enjoyed the snap and pop of the flames. She only wished she possessed the energy to rise from the bed and administer a medicinal to whoever suffered from the terrible wheezing breaths. Onora and Morag poked and prodded at her for an eternity before finally allowing her to rest. Her aunt’s tears penetrated the fog that threatened to settle over her self-awareness. Despite her best efforts to stay alert, she drifted in and out of sentience. Fiery heat seemed to encase her body, and she drifted into a dark, fretful state where naught made sense. The disjointed conversations agitated her fraught mind, and she wished the tinny din that buzzed around her ears would cease.

• • •

The landscape passed in a miasma of color. Aeden rode hard, urging Honeybush faster still. Finally, Caeverlark loomed before him. Though the guards anticipated his arrival, they had scarce opened the gateway a hairsbreadth before his mount barreled through the entry. He barreled into the lower bailey, leapt from Honeybush’s back before the horse skidded to a full stop. Servants and warriors alike stayed clear as he bolted up the stairs and in to the keep. The subdued atmosphere sent a chill of dread down his spine and he spied his uncle at the end of the well-scrubbed trestle table.

“Aeden — ”

The look of sorrow on his uncle’s face gripped him with terror. He spun around and charged the narrow staircase taking three steps at a time, until he reached the second floor landing. Eerie silence confronted him and the lack of servants about the place forced his heart into his dry throat. He seized the latch handle almost ripping it from its hinge, threw open the door and honed in on the lifeless form in his bed.

• • •

“Let me see her.” His voice was alive with anguish.

Onora removed the blankets and rolled up her night-rail. He almost didn’t recognize her. The bruises and inflamed abrasions stood out in stark relief against the canvas of her cream-white skin. Her once rosy lips were split, raw, and a purplish swollen lump the size of a hen’s egg dominated the right side of her temple. Her tangled hair held bits of debris, and her breath sounded raspy, shallow. His chest heaved with the effort not to break down.

“Jaysus and Mary. How in the hell did she survive?”

Pain lanced through him at the thought of the agony she went through.

He reached out and slid her bedclothes down and settled the blanket over her when Tam entered the room.

He swung around. “Who did this to her?”

“Onora, please leave us,” Tam quietly asked.

She bowed her head and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Aeden retreated to the hearth. His mind in turmoil, his need for revenge was overpowering.

“She looks … broken,” he rasped.

“We found her floating in the loch. She was barely breathin’ when we pulled her out.”

Staggered, he stared at his uncle in disbelief. “How in the hell did she walk off grounds without an escort? Did no one think to question her?”

“I don’t believe it was her intention to leave the boundary. She was distracted and wanted to be alone to — ” his voice trailed off.

“To, what? Spit it out.”

“Clear her head.”

Aeden’s head snapped up at the odd statement. “What do you mean, ‘clear her head?’”

The closed expression on his uncle’s face only fed his fury. He decided to deal with explanations later and sliced a hand through the air when Tam began to speak again.

“Enough, we will discuss her reasons later. Do you have any idea who attacked her? I’m assuming it was a man and that he’s not sitting in my donjon. Tell me what is being done to recover him.”

Tight-lipped Tam launched into his plan.

Although he listened, he sensed his uncle had held back a key piece of information. Nevertheless, he let it go for now and concentrated on capturing the bastard who tried to murder his wife.

“Your men are searching the area, although we’re not sure who it is we’re looking for. No one except Elisande knows who attacked her.”

He nodded. Once assured every measure was being utilized, his mind shifted to Elisande. He needed to hold her, listen to her heartbeat and reassure himself she would mend. Tenderly, he eased his body onto the bed and gathered her in his arms.

“You banished Addis?”

Tam’s voice startled him. Consumed with thoughts of Elisande, he forgot the elder had yet to take his leave.

“Aye, and as expected, he did no’ go quietly.”

“Aeden, I … ”

His uncle’s reticent demeanor fired warning shots to his brain. Again he gave Tam his full attention as he prowled the room, and again he remained silent.

“I find your hesitation curious.”

“I … yes, well, I will leave you now, nephew,” Tam announced.

After an awkward pat on Aeden’s shoulder, the old man left. He observed the tension in his uncle’s shoulders and wondered what in hell was eating at the man. He threaded fingers through his hair and gripped the ends on the verge of yanking each strand out by its roots. Inundated with raw emotion, he blinked back tears, and he realized the force of his grief threatened to overpower his rational thought if he didn’t get control. He moved to the foot of the bed and stared at Elisande until his eyes burned, willing her to awaken and flash that special smile reserved for him alone. Despite his uncle’s dire predictions, he refused to accept he might lose her.

The soft snick of the door as it pushed open jolted him. Morag slowed her steps once she noticed him.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, chief.”

“Leave us.” His tone betrayed raw grief.

She set a pile of linens on the table and moved toward Elisande. “I must tend to milady.”

“Get. Out.”

Visibly shaken, Morag froze in her tracks. He advanced on her and she quick-stepped backwards. Opening the door wide, he gripped its edge waited for Morag to scurry through, shut the door bare inches from her face and secured the inside latch.

• • •

“Elisande … ”

A voice coming to her from a long ways away barely penetrated the thick stuffing some evil-doer shoved in her ears. She wanted to ask who sat with her, except the words wouldn’t climb past the dry pocket in her throat. The heat was unbearable, but when she tried to thrust the layers of wool off of her a cruel hand drew them up to her chin.

“Shh, be still,” the voice whispered.

Frustrated, she longed to yell at her tormentor. Then cool fingers brushed the hair from her forehead and placed a cold cloth there. She sighed in relief and let the abyss swallow her again.

• • •

“Aeden, you must allow Morag to attend your wife,” Onora pleaded.

“I asked for a bowl of fresh water, no’ a lecture.”

He seized the wood bowl and clean linen from his second-mother’s hands and kicked the door shut with his foot. The latch barely caught before Onora confronted him.

“You are being unreasonable. Elisande needs caring far beyond your skill.”

He rounded on her. “Do you think me a complete oaf? I have tended those needs, and will continue until Elisande can do so on her own.”

Onora put a hand on Aeden’s arm. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

In a fit of anger, he flung the rag at the wall. “I should never have left her.”

Onora crossed to him. “You cannot believe this your fault?”

His hoarse whisper broke the silence. “I can and I do.”

He stalked over to the hearth and grabbed each end of the mantle. Hanging his head, he closed his eyes and rasped, “There was no real need for me to attend that council meeting. Ronan knew my mind and would have spoken in my stead.”

Disgusted with himself, he pushed off the mantle and rolled his shoulders.

“What does that have to do with Elisande?”

An edge of impatience tinged his voice. “I left because I wanted to distance myself from her.”

“Aeden — ” she began.

But, he shook his head, unwilling to listen.

The look of compassion she gave him sliced to the core of his guilt, but he only wanted absolution from one person.

“Please, just … go.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Darkness cloaked the hills and loch in its ebony embrace when he awoke in the early morning, yet someone, Onora, no doubt, defied his orders and snuck in to light a lone candle. The flame cast odd shadows across the ceiling. Careful not to jostle her, he reached out and placed his palm on Elisande’s forehead. The heat had abated, thank God. He withdrew his hand and flexed his stiff muscles, then braced both hands on either side of the chair and heaved his bulk from the chair. Making good use of the fresh water, he sluiced it over his face and neck. Next, he gathered his hair, tying it back with a strip of leather, and then submerged a linen square into the water before carrying it to the bedside table. Starting with her face, he tenderly wiped the perspiration from her cheeks and brow over her neck, chest, and down the front of her body. He tended her methodically, until a few hours later when the fever broke.