“Everett? No! No. You’re not dead. You’re hurt, but you’re not dead.”
He blinked. That made no sense. Why had he fallen? What had happened to Alec?
“How am I not dead?” he asked. He felt stupid asking it, but his head was working so slowly that he honestly had no idea what had happened. His head was filled with fog and he couldn’t think clearly.
“You seem to have friends,” Seonaid said, and he saw a smile on her face. He frowned up at her, and then looked in the direction where her eyes were focusing.
“Camden?” He stared in amazement.
Camden smiled softly. He was standing with his shirtsleeves rolled up and a spreading bloodstain on his chest. Everett tried to go to him, but Seonaid held him tight and Camden came over and knelt down beside them. He seemed unhurt.
“Camden?” Everett repeated. He shook his head, to clear it. It hurt to move it, and he reached up, feeling a spreading dampness in his hair. “What happened? Why am I not dead?”
Camden grinned. He reached out and touched his hand. “Well, I would like you to stay that way, so don’t move around too much. Alec is dead. I reckon we’d better get you up off your backside and into the house where somebody can tend to your wounds, before you pass on.”
Everett wanted to laugh. He would have, but his chest felt like it was on fire. He was so pleased to hear Camden – it was so typical of him, to be so down-to-earth at a time like this. His brain caught onto one part of the statement and held onto it.
“Alec is dead? How?”
“I happened past, and it’s not so hard to kill a man when you can get up behind him.”
Everett stared at Camden in shock. His brain made sense of that, slowly. “You killed Alec?”
“Aye, that’s right.” Camden’s mouth quirked into a grin. “By, but if you get any cleverer you’ll be the town magistrate. Seonaid? Can you help getting him onto his feet?”
Seonaid smiled. “Aye.”
“Hold on, I can walk alone…I…” He tried to struggle onto his feet, but his legs wouldn’t obey him. He fell forwards, feeling as if his legs were made out of lead. He felt a hand grip his shoulder.
Seonaid dragged him up on his left side, and Camden on his right. He gave up protesting and let them drag him indoors.
“Miss?” Camden said respectfully. “Should somebody find a healer?”
“Mrs. Brewer, who lives by the big warehouse on the corner of Brinkley Street, is a healer. Please, fetch her?”
“I’m on my way.”
“What about you, Camden?” Everett asked, still struggling to sit up.
“I’m fine,” Camden said. He walked through the door and out of sight and Everett looked up at Seonaid, who was cutting through his shirt-sleeve in a very matter-of-fact manner.
“You daft, brave man,” she chastised him as she stripped the shirt from his torso. “You could have been killed.”
“I thought I was, actually,” Everett grinned, feeling foolish. “I still wouldn’t be so sure you’re not a heavenly vision, mind you.”
Seonaid smiled beautifully, then smacked him lightly on the arm. “Whist, you,” she chuckled, her face flushed with blushing. “That’s enough out of my patient for one day.”
He chuckled.
“I’m here,” Captain McCarrick said. “And I reckon I’m not exactly a heavenly vision.”
Everett laughed. His chest hurt, and the laugh turned into a fit of coughing.
“Father?” Seonaid said. “Put the kettle on, will you?”
“Yes, Daughter,” the old captain chuckled. Everett sat up while Seonaid tenderly washed his wounds. They had all started to bleed again. Everett hissed in a breath and tried not to show how painful it all was.
“Hello, lass,” an older voice said from behind her shoulder. “I’m here now. Is this the patient?”
“Aye. Thanks, Mrs. Brewer.”
Everett tensed as the older woman ran carefully assessing hands over his wounds. He was feeling more awake now, and he watched the scene in the kitchen. Seonaid was cutting a cloth to make bandages, Camden was washing something at the sink. The captain was stoking the fire. The whole scene seemed so comfortable and domestic, the household closing neatly over the wound left by the violence of the morning.
“There, now,” Mrs. Brewer said. “Now these wounds are all packed with herbs, let’s put some bandages on them. Thanks, lass – that’s grand.” That last was to Seonaid, as she passed her the fresh clean bandages.
“Anybody want a dish of soup?” Camden offered, as the healer finished her work.
“Aye!” the captain agreed. Everett chuckled.
“You’ve never had Camden’s soup, have you, sir?”
“No,” The captain laughed. “But, trust me, lad – we’ve eaten so much worse on the ship.”
They all laughed and Camden started cutting up turnips. Everett noticed Seonaid put her hand on his shoulder and gesture to the street, and he whispered something to her. He frowned, but then Seonaid turned around and grinned at him so radiantly that he was left in no doubt that whatever it was they discussed was nothing to concern him.
Later, when the house had quietened down, Seonaid and Everett were alone in the parlor together. Camden had gone to the market, the captain was upstairs, resting, and Mrs. Brewer had gone to her cottage again.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Seonaid whispered to Everett.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Everett agreed.
Seonaid ran her hand through his hair. “I thought, as you fell, that I had never seen somebody so beautiful. I couldn’t believe I was about to lose you.” She was crying, tears running soundlessly down her cheeks.
“I was looking at you,” Everett said softly. “I thought that I could die happy, having been loved by you.”
Seonaid closed her eyes and, still crying, rested her head on his head. Everett wrapped his arm around her and held her close.
“I love you, Seonaid,” he whispered.
“I love you, too, Everett,” she said, and kissed him.
They lay together until Everett’s exhausted body subsided into sleep.
WEAVING THE THREADS
Seonaid woke with a cramp in her shoulder, and a warmth against her chest. She opened her eyes in a gray mist-lit room and smiled. Everett was resting with his head on her shoulder. She leaned forward and kissed him on the temple, stroking that sweet, soft hair.
He sighed and shifted and she bit back a smile. He was so beautiful! She guessed that, to any other set of eyes, there was a blunt aspect to his features, but to her eyes he was the most remarkable creature she had ever seen. He stirred and she saw his eyelids flutter. Those soft brown eyes opened and shut, then stayed open.
“Seonaid,” he whispered, reaching up to her.
“Good morning.”
Seonaid shivered as Everett’s hand stroked her back, drawing her down towards him. She twisted so that her lips pressed to his and his tongue gently entered her mouth.
She rested a hand on his chest very gently, and smiled down at him, with sparkling eyes. “My sweetling,” she whispered. “I think we should be careful until you are healed.”
Everett smiled lazily up at her, making her breath catch in her throat. “I reckon you’re right,” he replied. “Though I wish then that I’d hurry up about it.”
Seonaid grinned. “I will have to see what we can do about that. You need a good breakfast, for a start. The better we feed you, the sooner you’ll mend.”
Everett chuckled. “Och, lass – you shouldn’t fuss about me.”
Seonaid gently stroked his hair. “Silly man – of course I should.”
He reached for her and kissed her again and she felt her whole body melting with the longing to have him inside her.
Drawing a deep breath, she rolled off the bed. “I am going to cook,” she said, matter-of-factly. “If you need help to get down the stairs, give a shout.”
Everett chuckled. “Och, aye. Thanks, lass.”
She went d
ownstairs. In the kitchen, she surprised herself by singing a little song. She never sang while she worked! She smiled.
I really do love this man.
She went out into the street to fetch water from the well. The water had washed the bloodstains from the cobbles. She shuddered. Camden had “cleaned up” outside, but she hadn’t asked him exactly what he’d done.
She filled the bucket amid the morning crowd of other people who had assembled at the well, walking carefully through the group of sleepy faces. Inside, her heart was shining. She could barely believe it but, despite the violence and horror she’d seen, she was happy.
When she returned, she heard somebody scuffling outside. She tensed instantly, gripping the handle of the bucket as if it were a shield.
The footsteps reached the kitchen and her father came in, limping slightly but otherwise well.
“Father!” she greeted him with some relief, loosening her grip on the bucket. “You’re about early.”
He chuckled. “It’s not so early, lass. The sun rose about an hour ago. I watched it from the window. Beautiful. I never get enough of it.”
Seonaid smiled fondly. “You also can’t get enough breakfast. You’re in need of some more padding on those bones of yours.”
“I won’t complain, lass,” he chuckled. “I won’t complain.”
Seonaid put a pot on the stove and as the water boiled she thought about the few remaining questions in her head.
“Father?”
“Yes, Daughter?”
“Why did you abandon the voyage? You were to be in Norway already.”
He chuckled, though his blue eyes were sad. “How could I go, without even knowing where you were? I wasn’t about to leave these shores without knowing my dearest daughter is safe.”
Seonaid smiled, though she felt tears at her eyes. “Och, go on with ye,” she said, flapping the dish cloth at him.
He just grinned and limped to the fire to check on the kettle that boiled there.
Seonaid turned around at a knock at the door. She raised a brow at her father, who also went pale.
“I don’t know who that would be,” her father said carefully. “Best if we open it, lass. Let me get that poker first.”
Seonaid smiled bravely as her father gripped the fire poker and, with her heart pounding, she opened the door.
“Camden!” she said with some surprise.
Everett’s friend stood on the street outside. He had a sack on his back, a staff in his hand and a crooked smile. Seonaid smiled.
“Hello,” she said shyly. “Can we help you?”
“I brought some more victuals,” he said, indicating the sack on his back, which he heaved off and set on the table. “And I wanted tae check in on our patient. How is he this morning?”
“Resting,” Seonaid said, a fierce blush creeping into her cheeks. She felt as if they all knew that Everett had spent the night in her bed. There was no shame in that, but in a room of men she felt shy.
“Good, Miss – that’s what he needs.” Camden nodded. He was calmly unpacking the bag of supplies as if he’d lived in the captain’s house all his life, putting the turnips in the basket on the counter, retrieving a large cheese wrapped in a kerchief.
“Thank you,” Seonaid said distractedly. “I wanted to ask you something,” she added.
“Yes?”
She cast a glance at her father, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily, but he seemed preoccupied with whatever he could see from the window. She leaned closer.
“What did you do with…um…with the...?” she wasn’t sure what to say, so she jerked her head to the street outside.
Camden raised a brow and, still lifting a string of onions out of the bag, he shrugged. “When I got there, a fellow was looking at the body, and when I got talking he was a bit defensive, you know. So I reckoned that, if he wanted to clean things up, I was going to leave him to it. When I came back out again, he was gone.”
“I see.” Seonaid swallowed hard. “This fellow…he wasn’t by any chance a guardsman, was he?” her heart thudded in her chest. The last thing they needed was any dealings with the law.
Camden grinned. “No, lass. Nothing of the sort. He were dressed in black and I reckon he was one of the deceased’s thugs. I left them to it.”
Seonaid almost collapsed with relief. The one thing she had been worried about was cared for.
“What’s that, lass?” her father asked cheerfully from the kitchen table. He was already eating a piece of bread, a happy grin on his face.
“Nothing, Father,” she said swiftly.
“The body’s gone, sir,” Camden spoke up.
“Is it? Jolly good.” Her father looked relieved. “Well, young lad? Are you staying for tea? I’ll put another kettle on the fire.”
Seonaid smiled as her father got to his feet unconcernedly, as if discussing dispatching of bodies was something he did every day. While he busied himself with the tea, she and Camden finished preparing the porridge together.
“You seem to be rather good at managing a kitchen,” Seonaid commented as Camden reached up to get the dishes out of the cupboard.
Camden grinned. “I don’t like tae think what Everett would say about that.”
“How did you two meet?” Seonaid asked conversationally as she laid out spoons on the table.
“On the docks,” Camden explained. “He was a hand on the barges, I was hoisting sacks.”
“I see,” Seonaid set down the bowls and reached for the porridge ladle. She imagined the two of them on the dock side, and the funny interchanges that must have taken place between them. She felt herself smile, and then she heard footsteps in the hallway.
“Everett!” she looked up smiling.
Everett was there in the hallway, his face deathly pale, his chest swathed in bandages. He’d pulled on his trousers and partially covered himself with the only shirt he could find. His hair was brushed, his face a mass of bruises. He saw her and his smile was a brightness in the dark room.
“Seonaid! My lass.” He limped in and smiled at her father, shaking Camden’s hand. “You look like you’re busy?” he greeted her mildly.
“Aye. There’s porridge in the pot. Sit down and help yourself. Look at ye! You need a good meal.”
Everett chuckled and drew out a chair, sitting down. Together, the whole household sat down to breakfast.
“Camden didn’t make this, did he?” Everett asked as he blew on a spoonful of the porridge, to cool it.
Seonaid laughed. Camden grinned.
“If you can’t tell that, lad, then that blow on the head has addled yer wits. This is proper porridge.”
“Aye. There’s a lad who knows a good meal when he has one,” the captain commented, already halfway through his bowl. “I say, lad – you wouldn’t be looking for a job, would you?”
Seonaid looked at Camden who had gone a strange shade of pink.
“Actually, sir,” he said carefully, “I would be happy tae have one. When are you sailing?”
“I don’t know? In a fortnight?” he raised a brow at Seonaid.
“Father!” Seonaid felt a happy warmth flow through her. Her father had been so downcast when she and Everett had found him. The thought of him taking such a keen interest in voyaging now made her heart sing. “Well…why not?”
“I’ll make sure I’m good and well before I go, lass,” he said, patting her hand fondly. “Never you fash.”
Seonaid smiled and grinned at Everett and Camden. The kitchen was a place of such warmth and merriment and she could barely believe that in so short a time her life had become so full of warmth and friendship. Camden and Everett were both grinning back. Camden was red and Everett patted his shoulder fondly.
“There you are, lad.” He smiled.
Seonaid looked at them questioningly, but neither of them seemed inclined to say anything more, so she blew on her porridge to cool it and finished her breakfast.
“I’d best get to the docks,” Camden
said, pushing his empty bowl away. “Thanks, Miss, for the breakfast. It was very fine.”
“Thank you for your help,” she called after him, standing to clear away the dishes as Everett pushed back his chair, too. “It was very kind.”
“Not at all, Miss. I’ll see ye soon, Everett. Thank ye, Captain McCarrick.”
“Not at all, lad. I’ll see ye tomorrow morning. Eight o’ clock. We’ll go over the ship together, eh?”
Camden glowed. “Thanks, sir. I’ll be there.”
“See that you are.”
When Camden had gone, Everett helped Seonaid to pack away the dishes. She couldn’t forget about Camden’s happy face.
“He seems very pleased by my father’s offer to take him on board,” Seonaid mused as she washed out a bowl.
“His dream was tae work on a ship,” Everett commented. “None of them took him, because of his lack of experience. Most of the lads in the crew started when they were wee fellows, maybe fourteen. He was too old, and most of the crews were already established.”
“I see,” Seonaid nodded. She hadn’t thought about it before. “Well, I’m glad he’s happy.”
“Aye. I never saw a happier man,” Everett grinned. “Besides me.” He reached for her and pressed his lips to her cheek.
Seonaid flushed and cast an eye around for her father, but he seemed to have vanished. She took the opportunity to wrap her arms around Everett and draw him close.
“When you’re well, lad,” she whispered, “we’ll have to make up for a long lack.”
He grinned. “That we will, lass. That we will.”
Seonaid felt her body melting against his and bit her lip, longing running through her body like an irrepressible force. She ran her hands down his strong spine and drew him against her, moving her body on his. He gasped and ran his hands through her hair, the same longing coursing in his veins.
“Lass,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to her neck. “It’s all I can do to keep me hands off ye.”
Seonaid giggled, the words making her skin tingle with warmth. She felt her own longing almost overwhelm her and she could feel how aroused he was.
“Lass,” he chuckled weakly. “I want ye so badly – but I reckon if I try anything I might just fall over.”
The Highlander’s Passion (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 3) Page 20
