My Highland Spy

by Victoria Roberts

  They stood there for a moment in silence, and he wasn’t sure what to say. He lifted his hand and his fingertips gently brushed her cheek. When Ravenna’s lips parted, Ruairi couldn’t help himself. He lowered his head to kiss her.

  “My laird! My laird!”

  Ruairi whipped his head around and walked toward the guard with hastened purpose. “What is it?”

  “’Tis Angus. Ye must come.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In the great hall. He isnae well.”

  When Ruairi followed the guard and entered the great hall, he instantly spotted Angus. Two of his men were trying to approach the animal and Angus’s teeth were bared.

  “Stop! Back away from him,” ordered Ruairi, holding up his hand to stay his men.

  Angus let out a low growl, and black fur stood up on the back of the wolf’s neck. Ruairi heard someone gasp from behind him and immediately knew that the frightened sound came from Ravenna. As she cowered behind him, he didn’t need to warn her to stay back. The lass wouldn’t take one step near the wolf.

  Slowly, Ruairi knelt and extended his hand. “Angus, come,” he said in a soothing tone. “’Tis all right. Come here. Ye’re all right.”

  Angus looked as though he could barely lift his head. He turned toward Ruairi and moved one paw forward, letting out a loud yelp. With a bowed head that now practically touched the ground, Angus crept forward with unsteady steps. The animal’s cries were unbearable to hear. As Angus came closer, Ruairi leaned to the side and studied the wolf’s body. The animal was most definitely in pain, but there was no apparent injury and nothing appeared to be broken. He didn’t know what was wrong.

  With step after arduous step, Angus finally reached Ruairi’s arms and buckled to the ground.

  ***

  As Ravenna stood behind Ruairi in the great hall, she caught something move out of the corner of her eye. She glanced to her left and saw Torquil standing at the top of the stairs. His eyes darkened with pain and worry. She was about to call to him so he would not watch his beloved pet who was in terrible agony, but it was too late. What happened next would be engraved in her mind forever.

  Torquil darted down the stone steps, two at a time. She had opened her mouth to tell him to slow his pace when his foot caught halfway down the steps. He tripped, fell face-first, and slid down the stairs. Near the bottom, his body flipped and his back landed with a thump, his head smacking hard against the stone floor. The sound—like an egg cracked on a table—sent a shiver up Ravenna’s spine. The boy didn’t move, and his body lay perfectly still in a pool of blood that fanned out around his head.

  “Mo chridhe!” cried Ruairi. My heart!

  Ravenna reached Torquil, and Ruairi rushed to her side as he continued to shout orders to everyone around him. He knelt down and placed his hand briefly under Torquil’s head. Then he gently shifted his son and put pressure on the wound, attempting to stop the relentless bleeding.

  As Torquil lay unresponsive, Ravenna realized she had never been so afraid in her life. Biting her lip, she looked away. Torquil didn’t move. She wasn’t even sure if the boy still breathed. She moved around Ruairi and knelt on Torquil’s other side. As she brushed back the hair from the boy’s closed eyes, she spoke through her tears.

  “Tor…Torquil, can you hear me?” He showed no sign that he heard her words. She lowered her ear to the boy’s mouth and tried to listen for any sound of breath that escaped him. The smell of blood engulfed her senses.

  “Ravenna, donna smother him. He needs air.”

  Some of Ruairi’s clan members had gathered closer to the boy, and now they froze. Two maids ran with lightning speed to Ruairi’s side and handed him several pieces of cloth. He applied the material to his son’s head, and within minutes, it darkened with Torquil’s lifeblood.

  “Hand me another one,” said Ruairi, his voice tight with strain.

  Guards, maids, and clansmen stood around the great hall with grave expressions on their faces, praying for Torquil to be all right. There were so many people that Ravenna couldn’t see out the door to the courtyard.

  When Ruairi lifted the cloth from Torquil’s head, she choked back a cry. She’d never seen so much blood. She heard whimpering and looked at Angus, who still lay sprawled on the floor. John, the stable hand, crouched beside the wolf, running his hand over the animal with a soothing gesture. He was an older gentleman with a warm smile. With all the chaos that surrounded them, Ravenna had almost forgotten about the wolf. The creature looked pitiful as he too watched Torquil, almost as if he understood what had happened.

  The healer came into the great hall and Ruairi spoke in a choked voice. “We need to move him.”

  Ruairi lifted his son in his arms while the healer continued to hold the material to Torquil’s bloodied head. Ravenna almost wept aloud when she saw the tenderness that Ruairi held in his eyes for his injured son. But she knew that under the calm lay a raging storm filled with worry and heartbreak.

  As she followed the healer and Ruairi up the stairs to Torquil’s chamber, men and women started to gather in the hall outside his room. Ravenna closed the door as Ruairi laid his son on the bed and the healer moved to the other side. While the healer bandaged Torquil’s head, Ravenna pulled up a blanket to the boy’s waist.

  Although she was sick with worry, she leaned back against the wall. She didn’t want to be in the way. Her mind was a crazy mixture of hope and fear. The boy she had grown to love had to be all right. When Ruairi’s eyes met hers, he spoke in a soothing tone.

  “’Tis a lot of blood, but that’s what happens with a head injury. In all my years, I’ve ne’er seen one that didnae bleed like a raging river. Isnae that right?” he asked the healer.

  “Aye, my laird. We’ll keep the bandages wrapped up tight, which will help to stop or slow the bleeding.”

  Ravenna knew Ruairi’s words were meant to be reassuring. She wasn’t surprised that in the face of tragedy, the man stood strong. Ruairi was a natural leader. She was sure he noticed the grim expression on her face because he started speaking in Gaelic to the healer.

  “He hit his head. ’Tis the body’s way of healing. He will wake up soon,” said the healer.

  Ruairi approached Ravenna, his massive frame blocking her view. He placed his hands gently on her arms. “Ye have nay color in your face and ye look as though ye’re about to faint. Torquil will be fine. Ye’ll see as much when he wakes up.” He led her to the door and opened it. “Now I want ye to go below stairs and have yourself a wee drink or get something to eat.” He addressed the men and women who had gathered in the hall. “Please go below stairs. I will let ye all know when he awakens.”

  As the crowd dispersed, Ravenna touched his arm. “Please, Ruairi, I can’t leave him.”

  “Please do as I ask. I insist.”

  Reluctantly, she nodded. She didn’t want to be a hindrance, especially to him at a time like this. Turning on her heel, she walked back to the great hall.

  A tense silence enveloped the room.

  When she passed the maids scrubbing Torquil’s lifeblood from the floor, her stomach churned with anxiety and tension. If she didn’t do something, she’d go mad with worry. She noticed Angus was no longer on the floor and figured John had taken the animal out to the stable. There was nothing she could do to help Torquil, but perhaps she could make certain the family’s beloved pet was not suffering.

  Ravenna opened the wooden door to the stable and saw Angus alone on the straw floor in the front stall. For a moment, she pitied him. Realizing this was more than likely not one of her best ideas, she opened the stall door and slowly approached the wolf. With every step closer, Angus merely stared at her and did not move. When he let out another whimper, she felt helpless. She didn’t know anything about caring for an animal, but she knew Ruairi wouldn’t want Angus to be by himself, especially in the wolf’s poor condition. So she did what she told herself she’d never do.

  Very carefully, Ravenna lowered herself to the gr
ound within an arm’s reach of the animal’s back. She leaned forward and stretched her arm so that her fingers could just about touch the black fur.

  “It’s all right, Angus.” When Angus didn’t move, Ravenna inched—a very small inch—closer. She was able to place her entire hand on the wolf’s back and gently brushed his fur with her fingers. “There, there, Angus. You’re going to be just fine. You have”—she wiped the tears that she didn’t know had fallen with her other hand—“you have to be well because Torquil will want to see you when he wakes up.”

  ***

  Ruairi stood beside the bed and watched his son lay perfectly still. If not for the bindings that the healer had wrapped around Torquil’s head, one would think the boy merely slept. Torquil had lost a lot of blood, and Ruairi knew his son’s head was undoubtedly swollen. But he also knew the dangers of Torquil remaining in this state for too long. The chances of recovery would decrease with every passing hour.

  “My laird, there is naught further we can do but watch him,” said the healer. “Ye know his injuries are severe.”

  Ruairi nodded. “I will call upon ye if anything changes.”

  “I can stay with the lad, my laird.”

  “Nay. He is my son and I will be with him. Take your leave, and thank ye for all ye have done.”

  “As ye wish… He’ll be in our prayers, my laird.”

  The door closed and Ruairi placed a chair by Torquil’s bed. This is where he would stay until his son opened his eyes or was no longer of this world. The bedside candle was the only light that illuminated the room. He sat and watched the flame flicker as shadows danced across the wall. The dim light suited him just fine because he felt as though it matched his darkened mood rather nicely.

  Why Torquil? Why did this have to happen to his son? They had jested at the beach, been like father and son, family. And now it was if their precious time together had been stripped away, parting before the real memories had even begun.

  Even though he wasn’t a religious man, he would certainly take whatever help he could get. Grabbing Torquil’s hand, Ruairi closed his eyes. “Dia is gràs, Torquil.” Bless you. “If there is a God, I pray ye watch over my son and let him live. I will do anything ye ask of me. I have done many things in my life I am nae proud of, but I try to be a good and honorable man. That’s why I ask ye to take my life and spare his.”

  Ruairi opened his eyes and squeezed Torquil’s hand. “We will come through this. Tha thu treun. Ye are a Sutherland.” You are brave. “Ye mean everything to me. Ye are my blood, my son. I am naught without ye. I beg ye to wake up now and make me whole again.”

  Ruairi lowered his head to Torquil’s chest.

  ***

  Ravenna never thought she’d see the day when she held Angus in her lap. She only wished she could do something to help the wolf. She wasn’t sure the last time he drank, but she had a good idea the last time he gnawed on something.

  A sudden thought came to mind.

  She wondered if Angus was sick over something he’d eaten. Ravenna cupped some water into her hand from the bucket that was left in the stall. She held it fairly close to Angus’ muzzle, but he moved his head away slightly. He continued to be lethargic, and that’s what scared her the most. The wolf was always on the prowl, forever stalking, and no one ever knew where he’d turn up next. To have him so still… This did not look good.

  “Please, Angus, you must drink.” When he refused again, she closed her eyes and prayed the wolf wouldn’t take a chunk out of her hand. Slowly, she turned his head up with her arm and cupped another handful of water with her other hand. Wiggling the tips of her fingers into his mouth, she quickly released the water and pulled out her hand.

  Droplets ran down Angus’s fur and most of the water ran out of his mouth, but she thought he managed to swallow some. She repeated her actions three times until she was sure he drank.

  “Mistress Denny, whatever are ye doing?” asked John, the stable hand.

  She looked up and shrugged. “Is he going to be all right?”

  He opened the stall door and knelt beside her. “I can have another look at him.” John scratched Angus behind the ears and then felt the animal’s body for any sign of injury. “What’s the matter with ye, eh? There are nay cuts or bruises that I can see.”

  “When Laird Sutherland called to Angus, the wolf’s head was low to the ground and he let out a yelp with every step. He did not walk right and looked as though he were dizzy. Is that possible for a wolf?”

  “Aye, ’tis possible.”

  “Could he be sick from something he ate? Perhaps you can take a look at the dead animal you recovered in the garden. Maybe the meat was rotten.”

  “Nae if Angus just killed it. But aye, I will have another look.”

  “I’ve tried to get some water down his throat, but I have not tried any food.”

  “Donna give him anything else. Wolves donna eat every day. He can usually go a few days, even a sennight, without something in his belly. Why donna ye let me take care of him and ye go back inside now? This is nay place for ye to be.”

  “Of course. That would be best.” Ravenna gently lifted Angus’ head from her lap and John assisted her to stand. She wiped the straw from her skirts and shook her head at the sight of the poor animal.

  “Donna worry. He’ll be in good hands, lass.”

  ***

  The door opened and Ruairi lifted his head. He wiped his eyes and turned his head away from Fagan. His friend approached the bed and placed his hand on Torquil’s shoulder. A glazed look of despair spread over Fagan’s face.

  “How is he?”

  “The same. He doesnae move,” replied Ruairi in a low, tormented voice.

  “Ye know ’tis common for this type of injury to the head, Ruairi.”

  He knew Fagan meant well, but he also knew what would happen if Torquil did not awaken soon. Ruairi could feel his throat closing up. He didn’t want to talk and wasn’t in the mood for Fagan’s company, but apparently his captain had other ideas.

  Fagan moved a chair from across the room and sat down next to Ruairi. “How are ye?”

  “Trying to keep myself together and nae weep like some feebleminded lass.”

  “Why donna ye let me watch over him for a while? Ye get some rest. I’ll call ye if—”

  “Nay. I will stay with him. I need ye to watch the tunnels. We cannae lower our defenses when we donna know what is afoot. I will nae risk it.”

  There was a heavy moment of silence.

  Fagan stood. “I’ll see to my post, but send word if ye need me here. Ravenna is out in the stables caring for Angus. I’d like to send her up to sit with ye. She’s worried about ye both.”

  He nodded, and Fagan walked out the door.

  Ruairi’s entire body was engulfed in tides of weariness and despair. His mind kept returning to its tortured thinking. Remembering the sound of Torquil’s head cracking against the stone floor made him shudder. The memory of his son’s spilled lifeblood placed a stain on Ruairi’s soul that could never be removed.

  The knock on the door interrupted Ruairi’s dire thoughts.

  “Come in.”

  Ravenna opened the door and closed it behind her.

  She approached Torquil and gently rubbed her fingers over his head. She closed her eyes, but Ruairi knew the gesture was only to hold back her tears. She walked around the side of the bed and sat down.

  “Fagan told me ye cared for Angus. I’m nae sure how ye managed that, but thank ye. I couldnae leave Torquil.”

  She nodded. “John took him out to the stable. He will keep a close eye on him.” She looked at Torquil. “He’s still the same?”

  “Aye.”

  “I’m sure it will only be a matter of time before he wakes up and runs through the fields again with Angus.” Ravenna felt the need to return the kind gesture that Ruairi had offered earlier. She reached out and squeezed his hand, her eyes welling with tears.

  He bowed his head and murmured
, “I’m sure ye’re right.” He leaned forward and faced her. “Ravenna, I’m sorry our last eve wasnae as I had intended. I hope ye know how much our time together has meant to me. I have arranged for my men to escort ye on the morrow.”

  Her eyes darkened with emotion and her body stiffened. “Ruairi, what kind of woman do you think I am?” she asked in a whisper.

  “What do ye mean?”

  “How could you possibly think that I would leave you now when Torquil—”

  “Ye know why.”

  “Damn the Gordon.” When his eyes widened, she quickly added, “If you think I’m going to travel back to England while Torquil fights for his life…” She sat back in the chair and folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not leaving until he wakes up, my laird.” He was about to speak when she held up her hand to stay him. “I refuse to have this discussion with you. And unless you intend to throw me over your shoulder and carry me back to England, I’m not leaving.”

  He stood and pulled Ravenna to her feet. His arms encircled her, and she held him in a tight embrace. When her hand rubbed his back in a gentle gesture, he lowered his head onto her shoulder.

  “Everything’s going to be all right, Ruairi. Torquil will make it through this. We’ll make it so. He’s a strong boy…just like his father.”

  And that’s when he wept in Ravenna’s arms like a newborn bairn.

  Fourteen

  Ravenna stayed by Ruairi’s side and watched Torquil well into the night. The boy didn’t move. She held his hand, talked to him, stroked his hair, and he didn’t respond to any of her efforts. She approached the washbowl and wet a cloth.

  “He doesnae know ye’re there, and I donna think he knows the difference.”

  “I didn’t know you were awake.”

  Ruairi sat back in the chair and rolled his head. “My eyes were closed, but I wasnae sleeping.”