by Mia Pride
“How are you feeling, brother?” Brennain asked awkwardly, and grimaced, knowing his question was ridiculous.
“Like I have an arrow… in my ribs…” he coughed and groaned, reaching to clutch his side in pain, but Maggie grabbed his hand and squeezed it. She had simply meant to prevent him from touching his wound, but the moment her hand held his, he calmed and opened his eyes for the first time since their arrival. His piercing green eyes bore into hers and when he looked at their clenched hands, he squeezed hers in return and forced a smile. “My thanks for coming all this way, Maggie,” he croaked with a hoarseness in his voice, before coughing again and averting his gaze.
“Brennain said you are also ill. I have just the thing for that cough. We must control it or you shall only suffer further.” Searching her bag, she pulled out a small clay jug, shook its contents and smiled. “’Tis a mixture of honey and féithleann, an herb to help with a cough.” Pulling the wooden stopper from the top, she swirled the contents once more and held it up to Flynn’s lips.
His eyes narrowed as he regarded her and she wondered what he must be thinking. Did he wish to question her the way his brother had? Unlike his brother, if he did have reservations, he was unwilling to speak them. Taking the small jug from her hands, his fingers brushed hers as he drank of its contents.
“There you are, Flynn. I believe it tastes much better than the poppy juice, as well. Between the two, hopefully, much of your discomfort will be eased.”
Licking his lips and clearly enjoying the sweet honey flavor, he tilted his head back and yawned. The poppy juice was quickly taking effect and she sighed in relief.
“My thanks, Maggie,” he sighed, and reached for her hand once more, gripping it weakly as the juice pulled him into the darkness. “It was indeed sweet, but not as sweet as you are, lass.” His eyes closed and she knew she had a few hours before he awakened again.
His words touched her heart, but she did her best to disregard them. Men always complimented her in such a way after she eased their pain with poppy juice. It made their eyes heavy and their tongues loose, often resulting in quick praise for the lass who eased their pain.
Grabbing her knife, clean linens, and forceps, she looked warily at Brennain. “Let us see if he still feels that way when he awakens in a few hours,” she mumbled lowly, before making her first cut into his flesh.
Chapter Five
Sky-blue eyes and golden blonde hair floated in and out of his mind like wisps of smoke. He tried to chase them, knowing they belonged to Maggie. He was in some sort of deep sleep, he knew that much for certain. A constant throbbing like a heartbeat nagged at his side, but he focused on the sweet sounds of a soft feminine voice close to his ear.
“’Tis done. The arrowhead hit nay major organs nor bones. He has lost much blood and will be weak for at least a fortnight, and he will have to be monitored constantly to ensure he does not develop an infection of the blood or wound site.”
“He will survive?” Flynn heard his brother’s voice and wondered why he was in his dream with Maggie, and why they spoke of blood and wounds.
“I cannot say,” she sighed. Flynn felt a warm, soft hand grazing his ribs, and the touch soothed him, distracting him from his aching side.
Why were they asking if someone would survive? Who was injured? ‘Twas his dream and he wished his brother would leave so he could be alone with the beauty consuming his unconscious.
“When will he awaken?”
“His eyelids have fluttered more than once. I believe he is beginning to awaken. When he does, his pain will be intense, I fear.”
Just as the words were spoken, his eyes burst open in panic, pain searing through him, as if he was on fire. A loud gasp, followed by a low moan, escaped his dry, cracked lips and his throat felt hoarse.
“Flynn! ‘Tis Brennain. You must be still.”
Flynn felt strong hands clamp down on his shoulders to keep him still. “You will tear your stitches.”
He stilled in his struggle, exhaustion and pain consuming him. “Stitches?” he repeated gravelly.
“Flynn…” He heard her sweet voice again, and turned his eyes to her bonny face, wondering at his fortune. Was he still dreaming? Nay, the pain he felt was quite real. “’Tis Maggie, Flynn. You have been injured. Do you remember?”
Licking his lips, he shook his head, never breaking contact with her blue eyes, the same eyes he had chased in his dream. She felt like his only anchor in a sea of confusion and to look away would surely drown him.
“You were shot with an arrow,” Brennain said from beside him, but Flynn kept his gaze on Maggie. Her blonde hair was plaited and draped over one shoulder, but small unruly wisps floated around her perfect heart-shaped face. The dark blue dress she wore made her eyes glow brighter and he could see the fire behind her silhouetting her body. He was certain a goddess stood vigil over him.
“Brennain brought you here and fetched me immediately to your side. I have removed the arrow, Flynn but you have lost too much blood. I had to increase the puncture wound to retrieve the arrow tip. You have a few stitches and you must be mindful not to rip them open.”
His hand floated over to the site of his pain and he winced when his fingers touched the tender flesh. Even though his lower torso was bound tightly with linen, his wound was too raw to bear the slightest touch.
“Careful, now,” Maggie’s soft voice admonished, and she gripped his hand before he could do further damage. “You are still groggy from the poppy juice. Mayhap you should rest more.”
He wanted to resist the urge to close his heavy eyelids. He wanted to gaze upon her bonny face some more. In the end, his mind and body won the battle, forcing him into an unwilling sleep.
* * * *
A tickle so sharp it made his eyes water tugged at the back of his throat. Even in his hazy state, he recognized the danger of coughing with the stitches. He braced his side as the rough cough came up his throat and jolted his body. Flynn grimaced and cursed the illness that still plagued him.
“I have tea. ‘Twill soothe your throat.”
Opening his eyes, he saw Maggie standing over him again as she had before, only this time she held a mug of hot liquid in her outstretched hands, steam rising into the air.
“How long…” He could not finish the words before another cough wracked his body and he grimaced.
With a concerned frown, Maggie gently sat beside him on the edge of the bed, bringing the mug up to his lips. “Hush now, Flynn. Drink this.”
He did as she bade, feeling the warm liquid slide down his scratchy throat, the sweetness of honey on his tongue. “Were you asking how long you have been out?”
Looking up at her as he took another sip, he nodded, thankful she understood his question without him having to speak further.
“’Tis been several hours. It is now mid-day. Brennain went out to chop more wood. I also have a rabbit stew in the cauldron. Brennain caught it this morn. ‘Tis a fine hideout you men have found. It has dried herbs for food and all that I need to prepare a meal. There is a wild kitchen garden just around the side. I was able to harvest some carrots. We shall eat well, at least.”
She smiled as he took another sip. “My thanks,” he croaked. He wanted to say something more, but he was quite weak and still trying to figure out what all of this meant for his mission. Guilt, shame, and defeat consumed him. He had failed his king. Mal and his men were close. Now that the haze of poppy juice had worn off, he could remember every detail of that day. He had been aching and coughing, which no doubt alerted a warrior hiding in the trees to their whereabouts. He and his brother had not seen him at all, nor suspected the attack. It was humbling to admit he had erred, but it still did not change the fact that they had a mission to accomplish.
A loud pounding at the door made his body tense, but then he recognized the five-knock pattern of his brother. Maggie got up swiftly to open the door and Brennain walked through with a pile of logs stacked in his muscled arms. Brennain’s
green eyes locked on Flynn’s and a wide smile spread across his face when he saw that his brother was awake.
“How do you fare, brother?” Brennain walked over to the back of the house, added the logs to the already well-stocked stack of wood, and wiped his hands on his now-filthy beige trousers.
Focusing on the pulsing pain coming from his side, Flynn knew he had much more healing to do, but he could see the concern in his brother’s eyes. “I will survive,” Flynn responded, and grimaced as he tried to shift his weight into a more comfortable position. “As soon as I am able to travel, we will finish our mission.”
Brennain crinkled his brow and stepped closer. Maggie tittered nervously and got up from the bed swiftly, leaving a trail of rose and lavender in her wake. Flynn’s eye shifted to her briefly and he knew she was nervous, being so far away from home and alone with two men.
“About our mission…” Brennain sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Our king forbade me to allow you to accompany me.” He cringed as the words left his lips, and Flynn knew they pained him very much to speak.
“I do not understand. I am forbidden… to accompany you? Were you not to accompany me? ‘Twas my mission to begin with.” His ire rose as the consequences of his injury slammed down on him like an avalanche of boulders, squeezing the air from his lungs. So much of his life had been given to this task and he had finally been given the opportunity to do something that matters, and he ruined it by getting himself injured. The mission still needed to be completed and his king knew he was unable to complete the task. Failure gnawed at his gut, making him wish to tear his hair out.
“I shall be well enough to travel in a matter of days—”
“Nay.” Maggie came forward and shook her head. “’Twill take a fortnight at the very least, Flynn. You are unwell…”
Anger unlike anything he had ever felt in his entire life flooded his veins. He was not a man prone to temper outbursts, in fact he was hard-pressed to think of a time when he had truly lost his temper at all. Calm, quiet, and calculated—those were the qualities that made him blasted good at what he did. His missions were all he had and now he had lost the most important of them all. After over a year of journeying into the woods, tracking down Mac Rochride, and reporting back to his king, he had finally received the mission he had longed to accomplish. He was made for this, to infiltrate their ranks and gather information. He could not stay here to rot while his brother completed his task.
Before he could control his outburst and convince himself to stay calm, he found frustration seeping out of his every pore, manifesting itself into words he knew he would immediately regret. “Stay out of this, Maggie! ‘Tis none of your concern!” he roared, causing the wee lass to shake and retreat into the corner. Fear laced her features as her face grew pale.
“Do not speak to her that way! You would be a dead man if not for her!” Brennain bellowed in admonishment.
Flynn deserved it, aye, but he had more anger to spill before he could calm his nerves. “You have grown fond of her, I see,” Flynn snarled, feeling envy eat away at his gut. It cut deeper than the wound at his side. Jealousy was a foreign emotion to him. Maggie’s praise for Brennain repeated in his mind. She said Brennain had been cutting logs. Brennain had caught the rabbit for the stew. What else had Brennain done to impress his Maggie while Flynn lay like an invalid on this foul, itchy straw mattress? Being helpless did not sit well with Flynn and now he was taking it all out on the only two people he had in this world. He knew he needed to calm himself.
Looking over at Maggie, he saw her back was turned to him as she slowly stirred the cauldron with a large wooden spoon. Her body trembled slightly and he cursed himself a bastard. “Och, I am sorry, Maggie.” His throat still burned, but if he had been able to use words to release his anger, he could use them to apologize. She flinched when he spoke her name and he ran a frustrated hand through his tangled black hair.
“Aye. I have grown fond of her, Flynn. She came to you without a thought for herself. She saved your life. I will defend her against you and your pride any cursed day,” his brother groused, crossing his arms over his chest.
With a calming deep breath, Flynn tore his gaze away from Maggie’s back and focused on the one person who would at least still speak to him. “I am not used to feeling worthless. I suppose my disappointment at my failure mixed with my pride caused me to shout out of turn. I am sorry, brother.”
Brennain raised his brow in apparent shock. Flynn almost never had reason to apologize for aught, but he never hesitated to do so, when necessary. Why did his brother look so surprised?
“As I was saying,” Brennain continued as if the outburst never happened, and Flynn was thankful for it. “Our King bade me go alone. You know you cannot go, Flynn. Aye, you did much of the work on this and I am sorry to have to go without you, but it must be done.”
Flynn held up his hand weakly in defeat and nodded. “Aye, I know. I do not like it but I understand.”
“I am sorry, Flynn. I do not wish to go without you, but I have nay choice. Maggie will be here with you.” Then Brennain turned to look at Maggie. “You will be all right here until I can return, lass? I shall try to check in, but I do not know how far his camp is from here or how much freedom I shall have.”
Flynn looked over at Maggie and saw her spine stiffen. Still, she refused to turn to look at him or his brother. Asking her to stay away from her life for at least a fortnight was asking much of the lass. He would not be able to take her home for a long while and he would need to stay here in case Brennain reported back or needed help. She was as good as trapped, and that made Flynn feel even worse for shouting at her.
“Maggie, I am sorry you are in this position,” Flynn added softly. “I have made a mess of everything.”
Finally turning, she wrung her hands together nervously in front of her. “I will be quite all right. Do as our king commands. I will take care of Flynn.” She spoke directly to Brennain without even acknowledging him and that made his heart ache in a way he had never expected. He rubbed his chest to try to soothe the sudden squeezing pain. Maggie affected him more than he suspected and that thought scared him. He could not afford to grow attached to the lass, yet he found he already was. How could he spend a fortnight in her company and not completely fall in love with her? He looked from her to Brennain. Had Brennain fallen in love with her as well? That ache in his heart persisted at the thought.
Flynn shook his head, determined to keep his thoughts straight and logical. It was just as well she ignored him. Though he found the lass incredibly attractive, he knew little about her aside from the evidence of her being more frightened than a mouse being chased by a cat. He had no time to get involved with a lass such as her. She was clearly innocent in the ways of men, and anything beyond the basic fulfillment of pleasure was more than he could promise to any lass. When he was fully healed, he had every intention of joining his brother to finish their mission.
Brennain bowed his head to her, then turned back to Flynn, shooting him a look with his narrowed gaze. It was a clear warning to behave where Maggie was concerned. His brother need not speak to communicate clearly. He also was a fool for believing Flynn needed any warnings. He had lost his temper, aye, but it was rare and he knew he would not do so again.
“I will enjoy some stew and pack up a few supplies, then I must be on my way. I pray the gods give you a full recovery, brother. I am glad you are as well as you are. We have Maggie to thank for that.” Both brothers shifted their gaze to Maggie, who looked at them with wide eyes, as if unsure why they would have need to thank her. She had no idea what a giving, selfless lass she truly was. Very few people would have willingly given up all she had to come so far to help one man.
“I will check in if I can. If I cannot, then I will see you when I see you.”
“Be careful, Brennain. Remember what the man in the woods said. He knew we had been on Mal’s trail. Mal planted men all around his camp because he knows Tuathal is s
ending scouts. If there were other men in the trees, they may have seen your face.”
Brennain nodded in understanding. “I do not believe there were. I killed the man who took you down and nay men came to his aid. In fact, there is a better chance that they know your face more than my own.”
With a raised brow, Flynn said, “You look just like me.”
“Nay, wee brother. You look just like me. I am your elder, and do not forget it.” Brennain winked, and Flynn knew his brother was taking his opportunity to get a rise from Flynn while he was unable to do aught about it.
“Then you had better hope nobody knows my face, elder brother. Be safe,” he urged. Brennain’s smile slid off his face as he grew serious once more. With a nod, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword before he walked over to the cauldron to partake of Maggie’s stew.
Flynn still felt bitter that he had to stay behind, but his side was aching terribly and he gritted his teeth against the pain. It was going to be a very painful, and interesting, fortnight alone here with Maggie. He would feel like a fool having her take care of his needs. Flynn had always taken care of himself, despite their mother’s constant doting. He was not a lad to stand by while others cared for him. Aye, it would be a struggle, but at least he had Maggie’s bonny face to look upon in the meantime.
* * * *
What mess had she gotten herself into? She was completely alone in the middle of the woods with Flynn Mac Greine and she had no idea when she would ever make it home again. His outburst had frightened her more than she wished to admit. Even a man as calm as Flynn was able to lose his temper, but when his temper had flared toward her, her instinct had been to flee. She had not even been alone with him yet and he was already shouting at her the way Papa had shouted at Mama. Papa had always apologized for it afterward, but it always happened again.
She knew Flynn felt awful for shouting at her and she wanted to believe that he had good reasons to be angry. She had no idea what he and Brennain spoke of when they discussed their mission or the king’s orders, but it was clearly important to Flynn and he was rightfully upset to lose his chance. That rational thought made her calm down somewhat. He was only a man, capable of anger and disappointment, much like any human. He was injured, bound to a bed, removed from his important mission, and stuck in this dank hut with a lass as plain and most likely as boring as any he had encountered. He was most likely wishing he was stuck with a lass who was bonnier or would take care of his other needs, not simply his wounds.
