“Go on.” He coaxed her gently. He should not take advantage of her in her delirious state but he was curious to hear what else she had to say and hoped she would mention the name of the person to whom she was speaking such private thoughts.
A slight smile touched the corner of her generous lips and then, as if she realized what he was about and planned to punish him, she switched to her other language—the one Alexander had difficulty understanding. She talked for some time. Just listening to the lilt of her voice and the way her words seemed to flow along lyrically was enough to hold his attention, even if he did not understand most of what she said. Alexander sat down beside her and gently brushed her hair from her face. Gusty switched back to Gaelic but her topic of conversation had changed.
“What happened?”
She looked right at him but he sensed she was not seeing him. Perhaps she addressed some phantom of her dreams. He stayed silent for a long moment but so did she and he realized she awaited an answer.
“What happened when, Augusta?”
“There was a car accident, I remember part of it but I can’t seem to recall what happened.” Tears suddenly filled her eyes and her voice grew very small. “They’re gone aren’t they?”
Alexander didn’t know what to say. If he had any idea what she was talking about, he might be able to answer her. Car accident? He shook his head, wishing he could discern her meaning.
“Who is gone, Gusty?”
“My grandparents. They were killed. And I should have been with them.”
“Nay, Gusty.” He growled in her ear with fervor that was too much to contain. “You should be exactly where you are. You were not killed and neither were they. And once you are well again, my sweet, I swear I will take you to visit them but you must get better first. You must.”
“All right, Alexander, I’ll get better, I promise.”
Her words, spoken in such a clear-minded manner, surprised him. Her eyes were red from the fever but the faraway look had dissipated as she gazed up at him. He laid his hand on her forehead and found the fever burned hotter than ever. For the first time in his life he felt helpless and the notion terrified him. He could do nothing more for her but wait and try to keep her comfortable. If her fever didn’t break soon, she was in very real danger of dying. Pushing that horrifying thought from his mind, he wrapped her in the bed covers, lifted her small, hot body and hastened down to the great hall.
“Davin! Get yourself up and moving! My lady is dying of the fever. Who is the best healer?”
At Alexander’s frantic words Davin swept back his blanket and reached for his sword. “There is an old woman at the abbey up the river who is reputed to be a great healer. She would be the one to go to. On your feet men, we have a long, hard ride ahead. Get the lads to saddle the horses and be quick about it.”
Davin moved to Alexander’s side and looked down at Gusty. “She is strong, my friend. God willing, she will overcome this adversity.”
“I pray you are right, Davin.”
* * * * *
The cold of the hard stone floor was beginning to affect Isabelle. The chill seeped through the layers of her woolen gown and underskirt, causing her old knees to ache. She would be fortunate if she made it back to her feet after Martin prayers. Perhaps the others would not notice if she made no attempt to rise. Would anyone even care if she stayed on her knees until Complines? The idea was almost worth considering but if she stayed on her knees in the chapel for that many hours, though it might look as if she was truly devout she would never walk again. As it was, her legs—especially her knees—gave her much trouble in that manner. So Isabelle finished up her prayers, automatically repeating the same chants and phrases she had said for many years. The other women’s voices mingled with hers as they finished with a dedicated, “Amen.”
With cracking and popping joints and stinging pains running down the length of her legs, she forced herself to her feet. No one spoke as the bell tolled and the chapel quickly cleared, the many robed figures moving on quiet, shuffling feet anxious to get to their evening meal. She had become a bit slower over the past few years, not one to hurry, and even if she were, she would not be able to get there any faster. When she finally reached the chapel door she did not follow the long, dark hallway that led to her cell. Instead she made her way to a more cheerful wing of the convent house.
Isabelle’s workroom was still warm from the fire that had been burning already for hours. An extravagance but she was not under as strict of rules as the other residents were. She was given a reprieve for her bad legs and the warmth of the fire helped ease her pain. In return for the few extra comforts she gave exemplary service to the Sisters and the surrounding community. She lit a thick beeswax candle, a true luxury, to brighten her worktable, thinking to spend an hour sorting and crushing herbs in preparation for morning and the long line of sick folk waiting at the gates.
Her reputation had grown far beyond the abbey walls and various aspects of her work kept her busy. Over the years her responsibility as a healer had become her salvation in the lonely existence she had come to know. She lived between worlds here. Not a true member of the religious community that tolerated her but unable ever to return to the life she’d once known outside these walls. She sighed and then smiled slightly as she thought of the one aspect of her life that was hers alone to treasure. And with him at her beck and call she was content.
With slow, practiced movements she tied fresh bunches of fresh herbs together to hang on her drying rack. The next few months would be demanding as her garden produced an abundance of flowers and plants that needed to be harvested and preserved. Tomorrow after spending the morning caring for the sick she planned to spend the afternoon gathering what she could before the next rain threatened.
At the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hallway her hands stilled. She frowned. As late as is was there should have been no one roaming the halls of the abbey. The door suddenly swung open and two very tall, very broad-shouldered men stood in the entrance of her workroom, one of them holding a small bundle tightly against his chest. At first she thought he carried a child but when he stepped forward she could see it was a young woman. Isabelle’s startled glance flew up to meet a piercing silver gaze. His eyes held fear and pleading. The Highlander’s haggard expression told her the situation was dire. She cleared the long worktable and motioned for him to lay the woman on the tabletop.
“I am Alexander—Laird Sutherland…and this is my wife. She is ill, burning up with fever. I was told you were a great healer. Can you help her?”
The young laird met her gaze, his eyes reflecting intense pain.
He loves her dearly, Isabelle thought.
“Please, madam, help her.” The man set his wife’s limp body on the table.
“I will see what I can do. Now step back and let me have a look at her.”
With nimble fingers the old woman worked quickly and diligently, whispering under her breath the entire time she examined Gusty. As he waited anxiously Alexander tried to hear what she was saying but she spoke too softly. Finally she raised her head and looked at him.
“You did well to bring her here. Her fever has already lessened.”
Stunned at the announcement Alexander shook his head in denial as he gazed into her incredibly exquisite and remarkably familiar eyes. “The fever is lessening? But how can that be?”
“Yes…how can that be? Only moments ago my lady was burning up.” Davin moved to stand next to Alexander, staring at the woman on the table as if trying to find an answer just by looking at her.
Isabelle smiled gently and lowered her gaze to her patient. “I believe your journey here has actually saved your woman’s life.”
“That is why we brought her to you.”
“I know…but I did not save her.”
“What then?”
“I would say the exposure to the cold night air during your long ride helped draw out the heat. I will put her to bed and give her a restora
tive to keep the fever down. She will be much improved by dawn.”
Alexander silently rejoiced at the old woman’s words. He had deliberated long and hard about this journey, worrying the ride in the night air would do grave harm. He knelt beside the table, took Gusty’s hand in one of his and placed his other hand on her cooling forehead. It was indeed true! He could feel the difference in her.
“Thank you.” The words didn’t seem enough but the ones he would have liked to say stuck in his throat. His friend’s hand on his shoulder reassured him he was not the only one who was moved by the knowledge that his lady was going to recover.
“She is in good hands, Alexander.” Davin’s voice broke the awkward silence that had settled over the occupants of the small room.
“She is in God’s hands, my son. Come. I will show you to a room.”
Alexander gathered Gusty into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her now cool brow. He then turned and followed Davin and the old nun down the dark, silent hallway.
Chapter Fourteen
“Open the damn gate!” Malcolm Sinclair followed his demand by pounding his fists against the outside of the heavy wooden portal.
The spyhole opened and a pair of eyes appeared in the opening.
“Who goes there?” A muffled voice sounded from the other side.
“Malcolm Sinclair of Clan Sinclair. Open the gate!”
“Ah, Laird Sinclair, it is you. A little too early to be visiting don’t you agree?” The sarcasm in the voice was apparent. “Or perhaps you are in need of medical assistance?”
The snicker in the old woman’s voice caused Malcolm’s face to burn with resentment. He was a frequent visitor to the abbey. But he had thought that he and his love had been discreet in their meetings. Obviously not.
“Of course not. I have come to see my daughter.”
“Come back when the sun is up then.”
“Nay, damn it! Open the bloody gate now!”
Sister Margaret, who guarded the abbey gate, refused to budge in her resolve. She refused to let the giant chieftain who pounded his fist against the wooden barrier. She had dealt with this Highland laird on more than one occasion and knew he had an explosive temper. But he was on the outside of the very sturdy gate and she was on the inside. His threats did not bother her. It was her duty to turn him away at this hour. She was not about to break the rules set down by the Mother Abbess by allowing a man into the sanctuary at such an inappropriate hour.
“Nay, Laird, you will not disturb the peace of the abbey. You may come back in the light of day for a visit. Be off with you, you know the rules.”
She put her eye to the spyhole and studied the frustrating man. The set of his jaw told her he was not about to give up.
“My daughter is in there, perhaps dying, I want to be with her.”
The passion in the deep timbre of his voice almost changed Sister Margaret’s mind and she raised her hand to slide back the bolt. In all the years she had known him she had never heard such desperate fervor from him. But alas she had the safety and rules of the convent to abide by and she would do her duty. Her hands fell back to her sides.
“I am sorry, Laird, you will have to come back in a few hours.” Not wanting to prolong his agony, she closed the spyhole door, latching it with resolve. It was really for the best, she told herself over and over as she made her way back to her own cell.
If he wasn’t so frustrated and angry, Malcolm would have laughed at the little old nun whose head did not even reach his waist. He had faced far more dangerous and intimidating foes in his life but none as formidable or stubborn as the nuns who resided in this abbey. He felt impotent when faced with their prevalence. They held on to their strict rules and disciplines with the tenacity of starving dogs that had found a meaty bone. They would not give a bit. He shook his head in frustration and paced back and forth before the heavy wooden gate, muttering curses. He had never felt so helpless.
He had been riding for hours through the cold night only to arrive here and be denied entrance. With nothing else to do he wrapped his plaid about his shoulders and sat down beside the gate, settling in until sunrise. He only hoped his sweet child was well and safe inside.
Disoriented, Gusty lay in the semi-darkness. Slowly she turned her head to take in her surroundings as she lay on her narrow bed. A small, bare window high in the wall let in the first rays of morning sunlight. The room was tiny and square with no decorations other than a lonely crucifix hanging on the wall next to the door. On the table by the bed sat a pitcher, a bowl, a candle and a cup. Her mouth felt suddenly dry and she looked longingly at the pitcher, hoping it held water.
When she first awoke nearly a week ago Gusty had been so weak she had been unable to leave her bed. It had taken several days of nothing but meat broth with soggy bread for some of her strength to return. When she did show some interest in leaving her bed the kind nuns brought her a tray of real food. She had been sharing her meals with Alexander as he sat with her. At first the dear sisters frowned on his insistence that he should help nurse her back to health. Grudgingly they accepted his presence. More than once they had chased him from her room when they bathed her or she needed to use the facilities—chamber pot. She’d been amused watching the fight between her faithful nurses and her demanding significant other. Alexander was a most stubborn man. Gusty smiled at the thought.
Gathering what little strength she had at her disposal, Gusty threw back the covers and strained to sit up. For a moment she thought she had overestimated her recovery from whatever had ailed her and that she was indeed still too weak to move. But then she realized she was being held down by a weight that lay across her middle. When her hand came into contact with a large, hairy limb she squeaked with terror. But as her gaze followed the line of the arm up to a very broad shoulder she relaxed.
Alexander lay on his side behind her on the narrow bed wedged between her body and the wall. She’d discovered the reason she felt so comfortably warm. His body was like a furnace at her back. She sighed and lay quietly, absorbing the wonderful feeling of euphoria that settled over her. But the loud rumbling noises coming from her stomach reminded her how hungry she was. Her throat was also fiercely dry. She glanced at the cup and pitcher on the small table again and decided to get up and help herself to a drink of water.
A light knock at the door had her head whirling around and she sat up as best she could. She pulled the covers up to her chin and waited as the door opened slightly and a small covered head appeared.
“Ah you are awake. Good. Mother Abbess instructed me to look in on you to make certain you were comfortable and to see that you have everything you need. Is there anything I can get for you?”
Before Gusty could open her mouth to ask for something to eat the old nun rushed on.
“Mother Abbess would like to come by later and speak with you. She regrets she did not get to talk with your husband but he has disappeared at the moment. When he does return I will let you know.”
Before Gusty could point out that Alexander had not disappeared at all but was in fact in bed with her at that moment, the nun withdrew her head and closed the door.
“Oh my Go—”
She clapped her hand over her mouth and turned to stare down at Alexander. He’d slept through the whole conversation, clearly exhausted.
She had to bite her bottom lip to stop the giggles. Clearly the nun who’d come to check in on Gusty hadn’t noticed Alexander lying next to her. Oh God! How much trouble would they be in if one of the nuns found them together? She managed to crawl out from under his arm without disturbing him and then pulled the blanket up to cover all but the top of his head. She took her pillow and placed it sideways along the bed to camouflage the outline of his body under the covers. She then stood back and surveyed her handiwork, sighing with satisfaction to discover she’d done a good job disguising his presence. She would let Alexander sleep and hope he had enough sense to stay hidden. Another bout of laughter rose in her throat at the
thought of an unsuspecting nun coming in to clean her room and finding the large Highlander stretched out on her bed.
She picked up one of the plaids that were draped over the end of the bed and flung it over her nightdress to use as a shawl. On her way to the door she stopped and helped herself to a long drink of cool water from the cup on the bedside table. The liquid felt so wonderful to her parched throat and she poured a second cup and downed it also before leaving the room.
Once outside her door Gusty stopped and glanced up and down the corridor, trying to determine which way she should go. She shrugged and headed off to the right but after several minutes she wondered if she’d made the right decision. The hallways and foyers seemed to go on forever as if she’d entered a maze. Before long she sensed she was utterly lost. As panic began to set in she turned one last corner and released a sigh. The corridor opened up into a breathtakingly beautiful garden.
As she made her way down one of the paths that cut through the rows of greenery she quickly realized she’d entered a service garden. Every single plant, shrub and tree—although beautiful—served a specific medicinal purpose. Chamomile, cornflower, yarrow, caraway, fennel, coriander, anise, thyme, chives, dill and more grew in abundance. Their color and aroma was a feast for both the nose and the eyes…indeed the loveliest garden Gusty had ever seen. Under the gentle rays of the morning sun the plants sparkled with glistening dew. The pungent smell of mint teased her nose, overpowering the lesser fragrances of lavender, thyme and roses. Gusty stopped beside a bush of the spear-shaped mint leaves, plucked one of them and popped it into her mouth. As if it were a piece of candy she chewed the leafy pulp, relishing the refreshing taste after the sour mouth she had awoken with that morning.
She walked along one of the many paths that crisscrossed the large, walled garden, soaking up the crisp morning air until she spotted a sun-kissed bench—the only one she’d encountered and so unexpected, she could believe it had been placed there just for her. She sat down and sighed with relief. She was weaker than she’d realized and the short stroll through the garden had nearly used up all her strength. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she leaned back against the wall to enjoy her surroundings.
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