by Paula Quinn
“Ye’re here now,” Patrick told him with another forced smile. “Ye’re safe. As soon as ye’re well enough to travel, I’ll bring ye home to Tarrick Hall.”
“You have my thanks, cousin.” Kendrick looked at Charlie again and gave her one last smile before he fell asleep.
“Charlie.” It was Elsie. She’d come to stand by her sister and rested her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go rest? Cait and I will see to Kendrick.”
“Nay.” Charlie shook her head. “I wish to remain with him.” Kendrick deserved that, didn’t he? He’d meant more to her than anyone in her life besides Elsie. He’d been ripped from his family’s arms and shipped across the world, where he was forced to be a servant by abusive men because of her! She would see him back to good health. She would have done it for anyone, and Kendrick was so much more than that.
“There’s nothin’ ye can do fer him presently, love,” Patrick said in a gentle tone. “Come, share a meal with me while he sleeps.”
She couldn’t. What if he brought up Camlochlin or their life together? What was she to tell him? How could she leave Kendrick after all he’d suffered? “I’m not hungry,” she told him without looking at him. “You go eat. Elsie will fix you something. Won’t you, Elsie?”
“Of course.”
Charlie watched her sister turn to leave. Patrick nodded but then paused and bent to pick up the heather strewn on the floor. Her belly sank and she felt queasy for a moment at the solemn expression he wore.
She turned to speak a word to him. She understood what the heather represented. She hadn’t meant to drop it and send it scattering as if it meant nothing to her. She was sure he knew that.
Her gaze returned to the man in the bed.
Kendrick. He’d returned from the dead. Oh, how she’d missed him. When she thought about the life he’d suffered, she sniffed and wiped her eyes again.
She heard Duff return to the house with Mary and the children. She would greet them later. She expected Duff to come to her, but Elsie appeared beside her instead.
“Forgive me, Charlie. Patrick told me how terrified you were for me and how brave you were facing thieves and then his uncles.” Tears filled Elsie’s large eyes. “Forgive me for putting you through that.”
Charlie smiled and took her hand. “First, does Duff know about Kendrick?”
Her sister nodded, casting Kendrick a pitying glance.
Charlie wondered how it had felt for her brother to know Kendrick was alive. Was he delivered from his terrible guilt, or more reminded of it?
She looked toward the door, hoping to see him, but he’d likely stopped to speak with Patrick.
“He also knows about Shaw,” Elsie continued. “I had to tell him when he found me at the house.”
“How is he?”
“I don’t know. He wasn’t here long enough to speak to.”
They would find out soon enough. Her smile restored, Charlie smiled at the person she loved most in the world, besides Patrick. “Tell me about Shaw.”
“Oh, Charlie, he’s wonderful! I wanted to tell you so many times—”
“’Tis dangerous and reckless to go out alone.”
“He always meets me just beyond the fields.”
Charlie listened while her sister told her about Kendrick’s brother. Shaw sounded like quite a nice fellow. Elsie sounded very much in love. Charlie’s heart broke thinking about what Cameron had said. Should she tell her? Would it be any easier hearing it from her? No. And Kendrick was alive. Surely this changed things with the Fergussons, perhaps even with the MacGregors.
She stayed with Kendrick long after her sister left. Poor Kendrick. She wanted to be the first thing he saw when he woke. It was the very least she could do.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Patrick hadn’t been speaking with Duff as Charlie had assumed.
He’d needed air and had stepped out into the backyard after speaking with Elsie. Kendrick was alive. He was thankful, happy for the lad, and for Cameron. It would be a good reunion. It was another reunion that vexed him now.
The only man Charlie had ever loved had returned from the dead and she refused to leave his side. Thankfully, he had no more time to think about it when someone called his name from inside the house.
Patrick smiled. The children had returned and rushed toward him when he went back inside.
He’d seen Duff over Nonie’s head after he’d scooped up her and her brothers. He realized in an instant that Duff knew the man in the other room. They would speak of it later, that, and other things. Patrick owed him explanations.
But the children insisted he put them to bed and tell them a story, so he followed Mary to her room, carrying all her children to her bed.
“Patrick?” young Andrew asked, dangling from Patrick’s shoulder. “Everyone was crying because of Papa. Is he not coming back?”
“Nae,” he said softly to them. “He isna comin’ back. But ye’ll see him again someday.” He caught Mary’s eye and smiled when she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “And until then, ye must listen to yer mother and dinna vex her. Aye?”
They all nodded and he somehow kept his heart together.
“What story will you tell us?” Jamie asked while his mother undressed them.
Patrick thought about it. They deserved a good tale. He remembered just the one. “I will tell you of the greatest knight who ever lived.”
“Sir Gawain!”
“Nae, Robert, no’ Sir Gawain,” Patrick told him. “Sir Galahad.”
“What’s so great about him?”
Patrick smiled, drawing in their attention. “He pulled a sword from a stone.”
Later, when they were asleep, he kissed each head, happy that they’d enjoyed his story of young Galahad and the sword that had been waiting for him. He’d always enjoyed that story as a child. He’d forgotten it. He’d forgotten much. It was time to go home. And home was wherever Charlie was.
But Kendrick had returned and Charlie had all but forgotten Patrick was even there.
All these years I’ve thought of you, believing you were gone…and now…here you are.
Here he was, back from her memories and in the flesh. Would Charlie want to be with him again? What the hell would Patrick do if she did?
He left the children and ran straight into Duff. He looked over his cousin’s shoulder for any sign of Charlie. His teeth ground together. Was she still at Kendrick’s bedside?
How was Duff taking it? “How are ye, cousin?”
Duff stared at him for a moment and then smiled. “I’m happy he lives.”
“As am I,” Patrick agreed.
“Share a cup of whisky with me, Patrick,” Duff offered. “There’s much to discuss between us. Don’t worry about Kendrick. I’ve seen to his feet with Elsie and Caitriona’s help.”
Patrick didn’t refuse and followed him to the kitchen. They discussed secrets, Patrick’s and Elsie’s, and truths, the MacGregors, and even weddings.
When they were done, Mary offered to make them a plate of food from her neighbors. They hadn’t had much to give her but gave her what they had. Patrick refused. He was exhausted and wanted to check on Kendrick.
He stepped into the room alone and noticed Charlie asleep in the chair. Kendrick hadn’t awakened yet.
Patrick checked his patient’s feet and was impressed at how well Duff and the lasses had cleaned and wrapped them.
His gaze slipped to Charlie. Was she happy Kendrick was back? Of course she was. They all were. What did it matter that she’d loved him once, a long time ago?
But she hadn’t left his side. Would she show Kendrick his sling so carefully kept upon her thigh?
His eyes lingered on the curve of her cheekbone, the grace in her jaw. He thought about the heather muirs and her beautiful smiles. Their future. He wanted one with her. Kendrick’s return wouldn’t change that.
He wouldn’t let it.
He felt Kendrick’s forehead. No fever. That wa
s a good sign. The faster Patrick could get him home to his father, the quicker the true healing could begin.
“Patrick?”
Her soft dreamy voice nearly buckled his knees. “Aye, love?” He went to her.
“Has he awakened?”
“Nae, sleep is best fer him, as ’tis fer ye. Come, let me take ye home to yer bed.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to go so far.”
From him. Patrick looked at his cousin. Hell, what would he do if she chose Kendrick?
“But I admit,” she continued, drawing his gaze back to her, “I am weary and in need of rest. There is no room in Mary’s bed. Will you take me outside and sleep with me, Patrick?”
Relief flooded through him and he scooped her up before she could change her mind. He carried her, cradled in his arms through the house, to the kitchen’s back door.
“Patrick?”
“Aye, lass?” he whispered into her hair as he took her outside.
“He cannot return to Colmonell like this, barely able to keep awake. He is going to have to stay here for now.”
He knew she was right. Kendrick’s body was in no condition for the journey. He could die before they reached Tarrick Hall.
“I cannot leave his convalescence to Mary when she just lost her husband.”
Again, she was right. He bent and lowered her to the grass. This behavior of hers was nothing peculiar, he thought as he snatched a bedsheet from the line and returned to cover her. It was who she was, the lass he loved. An innate leader with a compassionate heart, who was responsible for everyone else. She took care of her sister, the villagers, and the chickens. It was only natural for her to want to take care of Kendrick.
He slipped beneath the bedsheet and gathered her in his arms. “We will tend to him.”
She snuggled deeper into him and sighed against his chest, making his heart swell with emotions given to her alone. “Did you speak with Duff?”
“Aye, he is glad the lad is alive. We shared drinks and I put things right between us.”
“That’s good. And the children?” Her voice grew softer, slower. “How are they after today?”
Patrick kissed her brow. Even half asleep she considered others. “All dreaming, I hope, of swords in stones and…Charlie?”
A tiny sound escaped her. She was asleep, and soon Patrick joined her, sure in the knowledge that Charlie loved him.
That certainty began to chip away over the next three days. Three days of listening to Charlie laugh with Kendrick at his bedside. She doted on his every wish and even told him how handsome he still was, after Patrick and Duff bathed him and cleaned his hair. She was first to his bedside in the morning and last to leave it at night. With nothing left to do for him, even Caitriona went home.
Patrick couldn’t have been happier when he awoke on the third morning to find Kendrick taking small steps on his feet. He just wished Charlie wasn’t under his cousin’s arm while he did it.
Patrick tried. He fought battles with himself that made the ones he’d had for coin laughable. Even knowing Charlie was kind and attentive to any who needed her, her attention to Kendrick was becoming harder to endure. He thought about telling her, asking her if she still harbored feelings toward Kendrick. But he didn’t want the answer. And he especially didn’t want her to think he was some jealous fool. He just wanted Kendrick to go home, and he felt like hell over it. He didn’t like these feelings of jealousy. He’d never suffered anything like it before—the pain in the pit of his gut, staying awake all night with images of Charlie waving farewell to him as she left to begin her life with his cousin, his heart breaking.
“Ye’re doin’ well,” he said entering the room and coming to stand face to face with his upright cousin. He slipped his gaze to Charlie and winked at her, feeling sick with the desire to remove Kendrick’s arm from around her shoulder.
“I’m feeling well, thanks to you and Charlie and the others. You’ve all been very kind.”
Hell, why had Patrick cleaned him up so well? He should have at least cut off Kendrick’s bronze curls so they wouldn’t fall over his eyes when he turned them on Charlie. He was gaunt, his complexion sallow, but Charlie beamed at him as if he were more striking than the vales of Camlochlin.
“I’m goin’ to Colmonell today,” Patrick announced, keeping his practiced, weary smile in place. He should have gone straight to Colmonell to tell his uncle the good news the moment he discovered who Kendrick was. He hadn’t wanted to leave Charlie alone. Pitiful fool that he was. “I dinna think ye’re well enough to leave yet, but yer faither should know ye’re alive.”
“I would be in your debt, cousin,” Kendrick told him, his arm still around Charlie.
Patrick nodded, reminding himself for the hundredth time that this was his cousin. “I’ll be leavin’ shortly,” he said, offered them both his best smile, and left the room.
He’d found it easier over the last pair of days not to stay in the room with them for too long. He could control his thoughts better without the two of them smiling and laughing together. He was glad to be going to Colmonell today. The time away was just what he needed. If Charlie still loved Kendrick, Patrick’s being here wasn’t going to change it. His uncle needed to be told.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
We weren’t expecting you back so soon,” Patrick’s uncle John said, ushering him into Tarrick Hall. “Is all well?”
Nay, everything is not well, Patrick lamented silently. I’m losing the only lass I’ve ever loved.
“Verra well, Uncle,” he said out loud. “Fetch yer brothers please. I have news.”
Watching John take to the task, Patrick’s heart drummed in his chest. How should he tell Cameron? Would the shock be too much for him?
He waited until everyone had gathered into the great hall and asked for whisky to be served. There would be much celebration.
“What is it?” John asked him. “You look about to burst. Is it good news from home? Your mother?”
“She’s likely with child again,” Tamas guessed, reclining in a chair beside John’s.
“Have you found Miss Cunningham?” Annie asked.
“Why don’t we let the lad speak,” Cameron said, taking a seat after his wife. “Go on, lad.”
“Uncle Cameron,” Patrick’s voice shook when he turned to him. “Take yer wife’s hand. She will likely need it.”
“Is it about Shaw and Miss Cunningham?” Annie begged.
“Nae,” Patrick told her, bracing himself. “’Tis Kendrick. He lives.”
As he suspected, the ground fell away. Everyone came to his and her feet, save Cameron. He sat in his chair staring at Patrick, his hand rising with his wife as she stood. Patrick hadn’t moved his gaze off his uncle in the commotion.
“I hope you have proof,” Cameron told him, “or what you did here today is unforgivable.”
“I have seen him, spoken to him.”
“Where?” Now Cameron rose to his full height. “Take me to him.”
“Aye, take us!” his uncles and cousins demanded.
Patrick leaped from his chair to ward them off. “Nae. His father only, fer now.”
“Patrick.” Cameron was upon him in a single stride. “Where is he? How do you know ’tis him?”
Thankfully, Patrick had prepared himself for the whirlwind. But who could prepare for the emotion of finding out your child wasn’t dead?
Patrick did his best to remain calm and steady while he spoke. “He’s in Pinwherry.”
“They had him all this time!” Cameron’s son Tam accused.
“Nae!” Patrick held up his hand. “He’s been…Hell, I’ll let him tell ye his tale. I found him stumblin’ into Pinwherry in poor condition. His feet were bare and raw and caked with weeks of dirt. He is being nursed back to health in the house of Mary Wallace, by Charlie, Duff, Elsie, and Caitriona Cunningham.”
His uncle Cameron took him by the collar of his shirt. “You left him with them?”
“Aye,
” Patrick told him evenly. “I did. Charlie lost him too.”
“And Duff? The one who—”
“Kendrick will tell you himself that Duff didna put a finger to him. ’Twas Hendry, and he has disappeared again. And Duff is a MacGregor. Will’s son,” Patrick supplied when his uncle opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out. “They are helpin’ yer son recover. Never leavin’ his side.”
“Let’s go and get him back,” Tamas said. “Enough wastin’ time.”
“He isna well enough to travel, or I would have brought him with me.”
“Ye’re no physician,” Tamas pointed out.
“Everything yer sister knows aboot medicine, she taught to me.”
When Tamas made no other reply, Patrick returned his attention to Cameron. “Allan Cunningham doesna know aboot Kendrick. If ye all show up on his land, he’s likely to start shootin’ his pistol. I know ye can overtake him, but ye have yer son back. This war needs to end before anyone else dies.”
Cameron let him go and looked at his wife. “Our Kendrick may be alive, Annie.”
“Go find out, my love. Hurry back to tell me.”
They were leaving now. Turning to go, Patrick paused and looked at the rest of his kin. “Trust me,” he told them. “And celebrate Kendrick’s return.”
His aunt smiled, as did Shaw and John. Tamas stared at him with narrowed eyes. “We’ll see.”
“Five years, Patrick,” His uncle exhaled heavily as he dismounted in front of the Wallace holding. “Five years I believed him gone from me. Can this be?”
“Aye, Uncle,” Patrick promised him. “It can.
“Remember,” Patrick reminded him as they approached the door. “Duff Cunningham is no’ a threat.”
Cam nodded and cast him an anxious glance. “Think you Kendrick will recognize me? Will I recognize him?”
Patrick smiled and ushered him inside. “Ye’ve had a hard life, Uncle,” he said tossing his arm around Cameron’s shoulder. He pointed to the doorway down the hall. “Go inside and see yer son.”
Cameron stepped forward slowly and then hurried forward. He stopped at the entrance, his eyes fixed on the man sitting up in the bed.
