He smirked and I glanced up to see a smile on his face that worried me very much. “No yer toes. Only toes in general, but ’tis no all we talked about.”
“Oh no.” I laughed, despite my nerves at the thought of Adwen and Cooper discussing me. Cooper had enough material about me to fill an encyclopedia with embarrassing stories. I always said, if anyone ever wanted to blackmail me, all they would have to do is go ask Cooper for a few stories, and he’d be happy to oblige them with whatever they needed. He loved to talk about his Aunt Jane.
“Aye,” he pulled his right hand away and tilted my chin up so that I looked right at him, “ye should be verra worried. I know all of yer secrets now, Jane.”
A large gust of wind shot across the windows, creating a loud whistle that caused me to jerk away as I spun to look outside. The motion caught my neck wrong, and I cried out in pain.
“What is it, lass? Did ye hurt yerself?”
I bent my neck, rubbing it with my hand as Adwen moved up behind me. “No, it’s just a crick that pulled funny when I moved. I think I slept on it wrong.”
“Allow me to rub it for ye.”
His hands moved to my neck before I could give permission. Even though I melted against the feeling of his hands, I still tried to protest.
“I don’t want your cold fingers rubbing on me.”
He chuckled, the warmth from his mouth shooting down my spine as he continued to squeeze and rub it so that my head rolled back and forth with the motion of his hands.
“They are no longer cold, Jane. Ye have warmed them through just as ye have my heart.”
I snorted and laughed. His hands paused in surprise for a brief second as I spoke. “Oh brother. You’re pretty sneaky, you know it? What did you do, go stick your hands in ice before you came up here just to give you a reason to create some physical contact?”
“No, I dinna go near any ice. And what of ye? Did ye spin yer neck and cry out just so I would touch ye?”
I jumped as he hit a tender spot on the base of my neck. “Ow. It’s right there. See? You know I didn’t do that on purpose.” Slowly, he ran his thumb over the spot.
“Aye, and neither did I. Ye know I am no smart enough to think of it.”
He bent and wrapped his arms around me, and I thought I felt his lips quickly touch the base of my neck, although I couldn’t tell for certain. He pulled me close and my head lay against his chest.
“Well, I know you’re smart enough to know that it’s hard for a girl to pull away after you’ve just massaged them so well that their brain has turned to goo.”
He chuckled, a deep, seductive noise that caused my legs to clench in response. “Do ye wish me to step away from ye, Jane?”
I was finished giving him a hard time—at least for the day. He’d been kind to me, and I loved the way his arms felt around me. “No.” I said the word in a mere whisper and allowed my eyes to drift closed as we stood there together, listening to the storm.
I’d started to drift when the sound of Cooper’s scream reached my ears followed by the sound of his frantic footsteps as we turned to see him running up the stairs toward us.
His face was white as a sheet and his words breathless as tears filled his eyes.
“It’s Isobel…she…she fainted. Oh, Aunt Jane, come help her. There’s blood everywhere.”
I brushed past him as Adwen went to Cooper’s side, scooping him up in mid-stride. Together we fled down the stairs, my heart thumping painfully with every step.
CHAPTER 19
Gregor had Isobel gathered up in his arms by the time we reached the bottom of the stairs. He held a small handkerchief to the top of her right brow, where the blood flowed freely enough to soak the rag in seconds. Gregor’s eyes pleaded for assistance the moment he saw us.
“Here,” Adwen turned and marched quickly around the corner and into my room, “’tis the nearest bed.”
While Gregor situated Isobel onto the bed, Adwen moved to grab the robe I’d used after my bath our first evening here. He ripped it into large strips with ease, tossing them in Gregor’s direction before he moved to the bedside to look at the wound himself.
The clouds darkened the room immensely, and in an effort to be of some help, I went about lighting candles around the bed to provide them more light.
“’Tis no a deep wound, ’tis only that head wounds bleed a great deal. Keep the rags I gave ye pressed firmly against her head. I expect she will wake shortly.”
As if summoned, Isobel’s eyes fluttered open. Her kindness always right at the surface, she thought immediately of Cooper. “Ach, what happened to me? I’m sure I’ve frightened the little lad to death. Where is Cooper?”
Only then did I notice the sound of Cooper’s soft sobs as he stood shaking and pale in the corner. In all of the chaos, he’d gone unnoticed. I started to move toward him, but Gregor gripped at the side of my hand.
“I’ll talk to him, lass. Ye can work at stopping the bleeding.”
I did as he asked, but my hands trembled as I pressed the rags to the bloody wound. I looked out of the corner of my eye at Cooper to distract myself and found myself listening as Gregor gathered a crying Cooper into his arms.
“Come here, lad. Why are ye crying so? She’s all right now.”
“No.” Cooper’s voice shook as he spoke, and he had to stop between every word to gasp for air. “It’s. My. Fault. I…I asked her to go up…to the tower. I shouldn’t have…”
“Hush, lad. Isobel is no a child. If she believed herself well enough to go to the tower, then that was for her to decide. Ye have no blame in this. Ye heard her. She’s worried for ye. Why doona ye go and hold her hand? Show her that ye are all right and so is she.”
The bleeding had slowed, and I allowed myself to twist so that I could look at Gregor. He was visibly shaken—his eyes red from tears he held back, his forehead even more creased than usual.
Still, despite his worry, he’d recognized Cooper’s guilt and pushed aside his own feelings for a moment to comfort him. He would’ve made a wonderful father. My heart ached knowing that he would most likely never get the chance. No matter how disgruntled and rough Gregor could sometimes appear, there wasn’t a man alive with a kinder, more loyal heart.
By the time Gregor finished reassuring Cooper that all was well, the bleeding had slowed and Isobel managed a small smile as Cooper hesitantly moved toward the bed. She reached out a hand to him, encouraging him to climb up beside her.
“I’m all right, Cooper. ’Tis only a small scratch.”
Cooper nodded and wiped his nose, snuggling in to sit cross-legged beside her. He gave her his hand as he glanced up at me, a silent question in his eyes.
“She’s okay, Coop. See? Look.” Gently, I pulled the rag away to show him that the bleeding had stopped. With the blood no longer flowing, he could see that the wound wasn’t as deep as it first appeared and his breath shook as he allowed himself to exhale, relaxing a little.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my whole life, Aunt Jane.”
Isobel squeezed his hand in reassurance, but she said little. Deep or not, I was certain the fall had given her a wicked headache.
“I know, Coop. Why don’t you sit beside her while I go rinse these rags? Maybe tell her a story. She doesn’t need to sleep for a while.” I placed my hand on Isobel’s shoulders and leaned forward so she would be sure to hear me. “I’ll be back shortly. Just lay back here and listen to Cooper talk. Try not to go to sleep.”
I knew nothing of medicine, but after such a fall she was very likely to have a concussion, and I did know enough to see that she needed to be kept under close watch for the rest of the day.
Cooper hesitated a moment but, once he started talking, I stood and turned away from him. I could hear his quiet words retelling one of his Bebop’s favorite tales—something about a talking dinosaur who becomes lost while out searching for a very special meal for his mother.
No doubt, Isobel would be the one who fe
lt lost by the end of Cooper’s story.
Amongst the chaos, and after ripping my robe to shreds to be used for Isobel’s wound, Adwen had slipped away. Bloodied rags in tow, I went in search of him.
I found him in the kitchen one level below where he stood throwing vegetables and fresh chicken carcasses into water.
“Making broth?”
He jumped at the sound of my voice and twisted toward me, his eyes focusing on the pile of rags I held. He moved to bring me a basin of water.
“Here, lass. Ye can clean them in here.” He sat the bucket in front of me, reaching forward to brush the side of my arm before returning to his work over the fire. “Aye, I’m making broth. ’Tis all I know to do. The warm brew seemed to soothe my mother’s cough some, allowing her to breathe if only for awhile.”
I plunged the rags into the water as I spoke, swishing them around as the water turned red. I looked up at him to keep from growing queasy. “Your mother?”
“Aye. She suffered from the same illness as Isobel. She died the summer of my twelfth year.”
No wonder he’d taken to Isobel so. “I’m so sorry. Do you know what it is?”
“I doona know, lass, but it doesna matter. There is no much that can be done for a great many illnesses here in the Highlands. Only superstitious treatments from witch doctors or healers that know no more of healing than the horses in the stables are available here. There are other places in the world, places I’ve seen with my own eyes that are far more advanced, but they are too far and Isobel too weak to get to them.”
“How long does it last?”
Throwing a handful of chopped vegetables into the water, he turned and moved to stand next to me, his eyes heavy and sad.
“Once she started fainting, she lasted no more than a fortnight.”
I nodded, looking down into the red-colored water and thinking on how short her breath already was. Each lift of her chest was a visible struggle.
Before I could respond, a gust of wind whipped the window Adwen had left cracked to help vent the fire wide open, sending a chill through the room that nearly iced the chilly water my hands were submerged in. Snow scattered the stone ground. I removed my hands, shaking them before moving to look outside.
In the course of an hour, the castle and the small island it sat on had been snowed in, the bridge leading to the mainland entirely impassable.
One name came to mind as I looked out at the wintery mess.
“As ill as she may be, I doona think ’tis Isobel we should fear for this night.”
Adwen’s words mirrored my thoughts exactly. I could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke, every syllable laced with his concern.
Orick had yet to return home.
CHAPTER 20
I woke sometime during the darkest part of the night, lulled awake by the sound of Cooper’s soft voice from the direction of Isobel’s bed.
The stress of the day had exhausted everyone, and we all dealt with our fatigue in different ways. Adwen couldn’t sit still and paced aimlessly up and down the castle halls as he worried over his friend. He attempted, shortly after finishing his broth for Isobel, to leave the castle to go out in search of Orick, but we collectively stopped him from doing so.
I understood his desire to try and do something, but anyone with half a brain could look out the windows and see that nothing good would come from Adwen leaving in the middle of such a storm. With the bridge now impassable, any search for Orick right now would be in vain. God willing, Orick was smart enough to hole up somewhere in the village before the worst part of the storm.
Still, despite our protests, in the end it was Isobel, with her head still gashed open and with what had to be a headache bad enough to make her want to bash her head in completely, who was able to make him see reason.
All she had to do was threaten to get up out of bed and follow him out into the snow, and he promised to stay inside the castle for the rest of the night. We spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the sound of his footsteps trudging up and down the hallways above us.
As the evening passed, Gregor fell asleep next to the fire. Shortly after, Isobel and Cooper followed suit. I fought to stay awake, feeling it necessary to make sure that Adwen wasn’t completely alone in his sleepless worry but, as the hours passed without a sign of him other than his heavy footsteps above, my willpower lost out to the strength of my fatigue.
I didn’t know how long I’d slept but when the soft whispers from the bed stirred me, I looked up to see the fire still burning strongly and knew it couldn’t have been overlong.
“Isobel?” Cooper uttered her name in his version of a whisper, but it was a skill he’d still not mastered.
Isobel’s voice was quieter, and I had to lean to the other side of my chair to be able to hear her response.
“Aye.”
“Can I ask you a question? It’s not a good one to ask, but I want to know.”
“Ye can ask me anything ye wish, lad. For children, all questions are good ones. Curiosity is a bonny way to learn.”
Silence followed and I wondered for a moment if Cooper had succeeded in a true whisper and I’d simply not heard his question—then came the words that stung at my heart.
“Are you afraid to die?”
“No.”
I expected a pause, a moment of shock at his bold curiosity or a brief hesitation to think on the depth of such a question. Instead, she answered him quickly, confidently. It must have been something she’d asked herself many times over.
“Really?”
“Aye, really. I am no afraid to die. I willna be alone when my last breath leaves me. My mother, father, and a sister have long since passed. Still, no being afraid doesna mean that I want to die; nor does it mean that I am ready to do so. ’Tis sadness that lingers in me, no fear.”
I swallowed and breathed hard through my nose, knowing that if I allowed myself to breathe through my mouth, they would hear my shaky, weepy breath and know I was awake. It was far too private a conversation to intrude.
“Because of Gregor?”
“Aye, lad. Ye are still young and it should be a good many years before ye truly understand what I speak of, but I pray that one day ye will find it.”
“Find what?”
I heard Cooper shift beside her and knew by the tussle of the coverings that he had just snuggled in close to her, hunkering down for whatever story she had to tell him. She had his full attention and mine as well.
“The love that Gregor and I have. ’Tis verra rare and ’tis a treasure that far too many believe come guaranteed with marriage vows. Love is no so simple and is no determined by words exchanged. When ye grow a bit older, doona be so foolish to believe the lie that so many tell. Marriage does nothing for love, but ’tis separate from it entirely. Remember that and ye will save yerself and the lassie of yer heart more pain than ye know.”
“But you and Gregor are married.”
“Aye, but we dinna marry because we loved one another. We married so that we could pass through life holding the other’s hand, to help and support one another. Marriage requires a vow, but vows can be broken. Love canna ever be. Once yer heart has truly loved another person, there is no anything—no hate, no betrayal or fear that will take away that love. People may fall out of love, but even that differs from the love I speak. True love may change, but it doesna die.”
“I think I know what you mean about love.”
I smiled at Cooper’s response. I couldn’t wait to hear whatever surprisingly wise little analogy would come out of his mouth. He was whip-smart and could catch onto even the most adult of conversations remarkably fast.
“You talking about how love changes but doesn’t go away made me think of my grandfather. Not my Bebop, I love him more than I can even say. Nothing but just total love. He just gets me, you know? But my Mom’s dad, my grandfather, is different.
“When I was really little, I loved him like crazy. He had a big house with lots of room to play
and even a tree house, so I always wanted to be around him. But as I got older, I could see things I didn’t see before. He’s not a very nice person. I don’t really like him but…when I think about him, something gets warm right in the center of my chest, and I know that no matter how mean he is, and no matter how much I don’t really like to see him, I do love him. And when he’s gone, I’ll miss him very much.”
A sniffle escaped me, and I scrambled to turn the noise into a sleepy-like snore. When they didn’t call out to me, I assumed my little gasp had gone unnoticed.
In one brief minute, Cooper had summed up all of the complicated emotions I had about my father that I’d spent the better part of two decades trying to sort through myself. When we returned to McMillan Castle, I planned to enlist the little stinker as my private therapist.
“Aye, ’tis much of what I mean.”
“But it’s even more for you and Gregor. That’s why you’re so sad.”
“Aye. In Gregor, I met the man whose soul understood every bit of my own. From the first day I knew him, he took a piece of me and I took an even larger part of him. I love him more than I love myself, but I know that he needs me more than I do him. ’Tis often that way with men. ’Tis why women, if they survive their childbearing years, often outlive their husbands; we are more resilient than most men, but I doona doubt that ye, wee Cooper, will be the exception. I know that when I die, that part of him will die with me. It breaks my heart to know that my death will leave him broken.”
I thought of Cooper’s Bebop and knew that Cooper had it in him to be the exception Isobel spoke of. His Bebop certainly had been. Despite the heartbreak of his wife’s death, he had carried on and raised one of the finest men I knew.
“Do you want to know what I think about love, Isobel?”
“I do verra much. Please tell me.”
“I think that sometimes when grown-ups love someone so much that they start to take care of them, like you have Gregor, they start to see them as weaker than they are. It’s the same thing with my mom. She’s cared for me my whole life, so even though I’m six, she still sees me as two. Broken things can be fixed. He will be okay someday.”
Love Beyond Compare (Book 5 of Morna’s Legacy Series) Page 11
