A wet and cold handkerchief appeared in the hand of another man who crouched beside the woman and pressed it to the side of her head, above her ear.
That hurts. She winced. Gabriel! Where is Gabriel? I need to know.
She asked them, but they didn’t seem to understand what she had said. She tried again in English.
The man with green eyes asked her something, but she couldn’t hear him.
She shook her head, and feeling dizzy, closed her eyes, resting her head on his broad, warm chest. Gabriel! I have to find Gabriel.
“Who brought the flashlights?” Leonard answered.
“They are in my backpack, Leonard.” Lachlann answered and Leonard immediately opened it and grabbed two flashlights.
Lachlann illuminated the side of Sophia’s head and examined her blood-matted hair.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“I don’t think she’ll need many stitches. Three or four, probably. Let me get this cleaned.” He handed the flashlight to Alice and went to the stream to wash his handkerchief, returning with it soaking wet. He wrung it above the wound, letting the water wash the blood away and lightly wiped her head and then he noticed her shoulder was hurt too.
He tried to clean the wound but stopped as Sophia moaned, “Don’t. It hurts.”
“What did she say?” Lachlann looked at Leonard.
“That it hurts. She is talking in Portuguese. It’s similar to Spanish. I can understand some but not everything.”
“Sophia,” Alice called, softly caressing her face. “Please, Sophia, talk to us.”
Sophia opened her eyes, but they were unfocused. She blinked a few times and the focus returned. She stared into Alistair’s eyes. “They took Gabriel.”
“Gabriela? No, Gabriela is safe,” Leonard reassured her in Spanish and looked at Alistair, concerned. “I think she hit her head hard. Talk to her. See if she recognizes you.”
They kept asking her questions, to no avail. She continued to speak in a mix of Portuguese, English and French and it was clear she didn’t recognize them.
“She doesn’t know where she is,” Lachlann pointed out. “She keeps clutching her arm. She must have wounded it too.” He gently tried to pry her fingers, but she shook her head, moaning, the movement making her dizzy.
“How did she fall?” Alice asked. “Did she slip?”
“I don’t know. I was watching the deer. When it ran away and I looked at her, she was falling to the ground and rolling down the hill. I didn’t have time to catch her. She must have fainted.”
Lachlann glanced at Alistair, concern marring his features. “We have to take her to a hospital.”
“Only if it’s strictly necessary.” There was deep concern in Alistair’s eyes. His voice was firm though. “She hates hospitals. Leonard, call Tavish Uilleam. Inform him we’re coming back and we need medical help. I’ll ride with her on my lap.”
From far away, Sophia could hear voices and feel her body being handled and although she tried, she couldn’t reach them.
She was floating in a dark space where flaming pain coursed through her body and a freezing ache pricked her heart.
8:29 p.m.
Alistair strode into his bedroom with an unconscious Sophia in his arms, Tavish hovering over his shoulder.
“Let me help,” Alice volunteered.
“Don’t lay her down yet. Alice, take off her shirt, please. I need to suture her wounds as quickly as possible.”
What? “There’s no need to take off her shirt, Alice,” Alistair scolded at his sister. “You can cut around the wound.”
Tavish grunted. “Alistair Connor, her clothes are wet and dirty. I need her clean to treat her wounds. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll have to leave.”
Alistair’s green gaze blazed flames at his brother. “I’m not going anywhere!”
Their stares clashed.
“Stop interfering. She’s in pain and you’re being an ass.” Tavish sighed. “Alistair Connor. I’m a doctor. I do no’ lust over unconscious, sick women however beautiful or hot they may be. And, fuck, she’s your girlfriend.”
He is right, and you’re being an idiot, Alistair Connor. Alistair slowly nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Tavish barely acknowledged the apology, looking away from Sophia as Alice took her shirt off. “Does she have any allergies?”
“I don’t know!” Alistair nearly shouted, exasperated with his impotency.
“You’re not helping.” Tavish stared at his brother, irritated too.
Alistair raked a hand in his hair. “I don’t know. This is her scarred arm though.”
Tavish turned and saw the white jagged scars. “Fucking hell! That must have hurt.” He approached the still sleeping Sophia, putting on gloves. “I called a friend of mine who is a psychiatrist. She has a country house near here, about one and a half hours away.” He prepared the medical supplies he would need beside him on the bedside table. “I’m worried. She shouldn’t sleep after a head injury like this. Have you seen a suture before, Alistair Connor?” Tavish studied him, seriously. “Can you stomach it?”
“I’m not leaving her,” he affirmed. He frowned as he saw what Tavish had in his first aid kit. “Morphine?! Why do you have morphine, Tavish Uilleam?”
“Are you going to question each and every step?” He didn’t raise his eyes from what he was doing. He quickly assessed Sophia and looked up at Alistair. “We have to take her to a hospital.”
“Nae. The wounds on her head and shoulder are minor. You can handle it. If she doesn’t regain cons—”
“Alistair Connor, she’s no’ a child, neither are you. She fainted, hit her head, and is sleeping.” Tavish crossed his brawny arms and fixed Alistair with a stern stare. “Even if she regains consciousness, I’m taking her to get an X-ray and MRI tomorrow morning. And that’s final.”
Alistair Connor, he is the doctor here. “All right, all right.”
Tavish uncrossed his arms and started to work.
The door opened after a soft knock and Gabriela entered the room.
Her eyes widened and she cried, “Mamãe!” running to Sophia’s side. “Mamãe, acorda! Wake up!”
Alice stepped in front of her, and picked her up in her arms, and hugged her, drawing the little girl’s face to her chest. “Don’t worry, dear. She just fell and is resting now.” She looked over Gabriela’s white blonde hair into Alistair’s eyes.
“Alistair.” Gabriela turned in Alice’s arms and said in a whisper, “Kiss her.”
“I beg your pardon?” Alistair was flabbergasted at the suggestion.
“Kiss her, like in Sleeping Beauty.”
“Go on, kiss her. It can’t hurt,” Tavish coached, smiling.
“Please, Alistair. A kiss will break the spell,” Gabriela beamed, twinkles in her eyes.
Sophia felt a strangely familiar scent, vanilla mixed with oak and a warm masculine minted breath bathed her lips. A mouth pressed on hers and silky hair fell over her, tickling her face. Her fingers wandered up to touch it. Men shouldn’t have hair like that, only—
She broke the kiss and opened her eyes. “Alistair! Oh, God! Alistair Connor.”
Sophia pulled him down, burying her face in the hollow of his neck, as her eyes filled with tears, hugging his neck tightly.
He returned the embrace, murmuring for her ears only, “Gabriela is here.”
Instantly Sophia regained her composure, rubbing her tear-stricken face on his sweater and shifting to look at her daughter.
Gabriela came closer.
“Oh, meu amor,” Sophia whispered, struggling to keep her emotions under control.
“Mamãe, he broke the spell. He is your Prince Charming,” said the little girl, sitting down on the edge of the bed and bending down to kiss her mother.
She smiled at the little girl. “Yes, he is.”
“I knew it.” She beamed at the couple.
“Time to sleep, little angel,” Alice said. “I bet Ariadne is waiting for you.
”
Sophia kissed the little girl again and plastered a smile on her face until Gabriela was out of the room with Alice, who kept looking back at her.
When the door closed behind them, Alistair gushed out, “Christ, Sophia, you scared us all.”
“What happened?” Tavish brought a chair close to the bed.
“The deer.” She looked at them. “His eyes. When I looked into his eyes…” She shook her head and put a hand on her temple, feeling the bandage over the stitches.
“You hit your head, Beauty. Don’t make sharp movements.” Alistair kissed her forehead.
“I’m giving Frankenstein a run for his money.” Sophia attempted a joke, but began to tremble and broke down sobbing. “I remembered.”
At first, tiny quakes shuddered her body, but then she started to shake in earnest and Alistair’s chest tightened. He hugged her.
“They wanted me, not Gabriel. Me! I was too afraid to obey their orders. Gabriel gave himself up in my place.” Her voice came out broken by her crying; her lean body shaking with heartbroken sobs. What have I done? I killed him. If not for me, he would still be alive.
“Hush, Beauty. Do you think Gabriel would have let them take you?” He buried his face in her hair as the despair in her voice sliced his heart. “Shhh. Don’t cry.”
“I killed him, Alistair. I don’t deserve to be alive.”
Tavish gasped, shocked. “Sophia, you doona know what ye are saying.”
“You did no’ kill him. It was a tragic accident. A poorly handled kidnapping,” Alistair tried to soothe her.
“No,” she sobbed. “It was a series of events caused by my actions. I’m to blame. I didn’t surrender, I fought back. I let him go in my place, I let myself be drugged and I let his father control the negotiations. My fault. My fault.” Sophia was almost hysterical.
Alistair looked at Tavish, “Give her something.”
“No. I don’t want anything. It’s not fair to him. Not fair,” she said incoherently. “What I did…wrong, so wrong.”
Her adrenaline spiked. She fought Alistair’s embrace and got up from the other side of the bed. She swayed as the room spun around her.
Tavish jumped from the chair to steady her, but she shoved his hands away and walked to the bathroom.
“Fuck.” Immediately, Alistair rose from the bed, ordering, “Tavish Uilleam. Give her something. Something strong.”
Tavish looked at his brother and raked his fingers in his hair. “I can give her a Valium. But she already has low blood pressure. Barbiturates or benzodiazepines—”
“Speak English,” Alistair interrupted. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Stronger sedatives can increase the risk of low blood pressure. What she needs is time. Time to understand and let it all settle.” Tavish shook his head as he walked to the door. “You can’t just magically solve problems with medicine. Sometimes you just have to trust time, patience, and a lot of understanding to do the trick.”
Alistair sighed and followed Sophia into the bathroom.
“He was my husband!” Her loss and her secret weighed on her making her pain and regret even more unbearable. To her, she had been the real cause of Gabriel’s death and it was more than she could bear. “You don’t get it!”
“There’s nothing you can do, Sophia. It wasn’t your fault,” Alistair said.
“It was. Maybe I didn’t pull the trigger, but what I did…” Sophia turned her head to the wall as if trying to bury herself in it, and broke down, wailing. “I turned the gun on him.”
Alistair had seen her cry before, but it had been nothing like this. Any coherence had disappeared into an otherworldly oblivion of pain, raw and primal. He carefully pulled her into his arms and held her.
Sophia bit her fist, trying to stifle the hurtful sobs, but nothing could muffle the painful sounds that left her body.
“Sophia,” Alistair sighed. He looked away for a moment, his throat convulsing. When his eyes came back to meet hers, Sophia was shocked by the amount of tormented ache that swam inside his eyes. It was as if his eyes mirrored all the hurt she was feeling inside. “My love. Please don’t cry.”
And it wasn’t only in his eyes. Alistair’s voice was leaden with pain, too.
“I know this is hard. Believe me when I say I understand. One day, you’re going to realize that it wasn’t your fault. Remember the facts. Even if you hadn’t reacted, even if you hadn’t been shot, do you think Gabriel would have let them take you? Do you think the man who loved you that much wouldn’t do everything in his power to convince them to take him instead? You couldn’t have prevented that.”
Alistair held her, feeling as if he were going to break too. His hands ran over her back until she let out a last shuddering breath.
“Alistair Connor.” She managed to grimace. “I hate it when you are so reasonable.”
“Do you really?” He looked at her, content that she had stopped crying. “I would have done the same thing, if I’d been in Gabriel’s place. I—”
A knock on the door interrupted Alistair.
“Come in,” he ordered and looked over his shoulder to see his brother accompanied by a short, plump, blonde woman casually dressed.
“Sophia, this is my friend, Doctor Evelyne Richardson. She’s a psychiatrist. I explained to her what happened. I think it would be advisable if you talk to her a bit. Would you?”
“Yes,” she sighed.
As they moved into the bedroom, Evelyne took a seat in one of the armchairs by the enormous four-poster bed. “Hmm. This is what I call dramatic surroundings. Good for a seducing vampire.”
Sophia’s little chuckle tinkled in the room mingling with Tavish’s low laughter.
Such imagination these women have. Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward as they walked out to wait in the adjoining sitting room.
Chapter 16
10:54 p.m.
Evelyne rose from the armchair and looked at Alistair. “Please, don’t forget to give her the anti-inflammatory.”
“Be careful tomorrow in the bath. Her stitches can’t get wet. You can wake me up if she needs anything.” Tavish turned to Sophia and kissed her on the forehead. “And, lass, I want you to rest. Have a lie-in till lunchtime. In the afternoon I’ll take you to get your X-ray and MRI.”
Sophia’s lips curled up at the other domineering brother and she gave him a military salute, “Yes, sir.”
Tavish smiled at her and accompanied Evelyne out of the room.
Alistair fluffed the pillow that supported her arm and adjusted another to make her more comfortable.
“Feeling better?” he asked, as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Yes,” Sophia gave him half a smile that lifted his heart.
“Good. I’ll be right back, mo chridhe. Don’t move from here.” Alistair kissed the top of her head and left his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.
Sophia sighed and looked at the black-and-gold canopy. She didn’t know if it was the drugs or the talk she’d had with Evelyne, but she was calmer.
“You, Tavish, of all people, should understand how this is not an easy task.” Evelyne frowned at Tavish.
Tavish hung his head, squeezing his eyes in pain. “I know, Evelyne. But unless she lets it go, she won’t be able to rebuild her life. You know this better than I do.”
The doctor sighed and put a hand on Tavish’s shoulder. “I do, Tavish, believe me. But I also know how much it hurts and how long it takes to overcome something like what she has been through.”
Evelyne turned to look at Alistair as he came out of the room. “I strongly advise that she calls her therapist as soon as she can.”
“I’ll make sure she does,” he agreed.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
6:33 a.m.
“This is absolutely amazing, Sophia. Look.” Alistair’s eyes were fixed on the rough sea darkened by the thunderous weather. The breaking waves were crashing on the rocks below the road w
ith such force that the water splashed up and soaked the asphalt.
Sophia looked up from her iPhone and gasped. She scooted to the edge of the seat and pushed the intercom to order her driver, “Antônio. Not this way.”
Again and again she repeated the command. But it was useless. The car kept going and the salty sea water started to rise and flood the road.
“Antônio. Turn back, please. You know I don’t like taking this road.” Sophia pressed down a button and the glass partition came down silently.
And she screamed soundlessly.
There were two dark-red men on the front seat, wearing all black. Their left hands were missing their ring fingers and they were laughing madly.
Although their bodies stiffly faced forwards, their heads gyrated on their necks. Both had the face of the only kidnapper that wasn’t killed. Their eyes were completely black and horns protruded from their foreheads. In unison, they opened their mouths full of sharp teeth and said, “I’ve come back for you, you husband-killer.”
Sophia closed her eyes as they lifted their guns. They shot at her four times, but she felt no pain.
She opened her eyes.
The men were smiling happily, gazing at the seat next to her.
Sophia looked too.
Alistair’s green eyes were wide open and his mouth was slack. From four open wounds on his chest, a viscous dark blood poured out like lava from an eruption.
This time, Sophia’s scream came out, loud.
“Alistair!” Sophia thrashed in his arms. “NO! NO!”
“Jesus Christ!” Alistair tightened his arms around her, waking up startled. “Easy, easy. You’re safe, Sophia. Everything’s alright, everything’s alright.”
His deep voice entered the haze of pain that was tearing her heart apart and Sophia blinked away the red acrid fog from her eyes, taking in Alistair’s black-and-golden bedroom as he turned on the bedside lamp.
She heaved for air and threw her healthy arm around his neck, hugging him tightly. She buried her face in his chest as her tears soaked his T-shirt and she sobbed, “Oh, Alistair. Oh, Alistair, thank God.”
Shades of Trust Page 67
