by Sondra Grey
“James…” Edane’s voice trembled, and she let tears pool in her eyes and slide down her cheeks. James reached down and wiped one gently away with his thumb. Edane felt Leith squeeze her hand, as if to remind her he was still there.
“You’re not dying,” said James, firmly. “I won’t allow you to die, beloved. You’ll be fine. The Macleods are going to take you to the Beatons.” He looked at Leith. “You’ll take my carriage,” he said, his voice firm. “You’ll leave immediately. And I swear to god Macleod… if anything happens to her or my child…”
“I will take care of them both, Majesty, I swear it,” said Leith, bowing his head.
“Beloved, be strong for me,” said James, running hand over Edane’s burning brow. “Take care of our child.”
“James,” Edane whispered. “James if I don’t see you again…”
“Don’t think like that, beloved. We’ll see each other again.” He stood, smoothing the velvet of his coat.
“Your highness, I insist that this is a hoax. She will have no better care than in the castle.”
James closed his eyes and spun, slowly, to face the man who could only be the castle healer. “Ewan,” he said. “If I find you that you are under my wife’s employ and are working on her behalf, so help me, God, I will have you on the rack in front of witnesses, charged with treason.”
The man Ewan’s face went white and he sputtered a moment, but the King was not interested in hearing it. He left without turning back.
“You’d better leave,” said the Laird of Dundur, and it was more a threat than a suggestion. The healer cast one more look at Edane and fled.
“Why did you let him leave! He might have told us how much he dosed her with…”
“He’ll never admit to dosing her with Penny Royal, though I’m sure, love, if you searched his medicines, you’d find it. It does not matter. James told us to leave. Let’s be off before he changes his mind.”
“I will stay,” said Richard, quietly. “With the baby gone, the Macleods are in a precarious position here at court. You’ll need me here to relay your charade to him.”
“You don’t have to stay, Richard,” said Leith, standing. “Come with us. We will handle James when the time comes.”
Richard shook his head. “No. If I am being honest cousin, I am enjoying my time here. I am courting a young woman and would not leave until I’ve secured her hand.”
“Ah.” Leith bowed his head. “Well then congratulations, cousin.”
“Until we see each other again,” Richard said. “Go and get in the King’s carriage. I’ll send your man, Broadly, after you with provisions.”
Leith nodded and turned to face the Laird and Lady of Dundur. “Will you accompany us to Caol Loch Aillse? Isla, I fear I would not know what to do if she worsened.”
“Of course,” said Isla, though Calum looked reluctant. But he inclined his head when Leith turned his gaze on them.
“Edane,” said Isla, and Edane turned her gaze on the healer. Lord, even moving her eyes hurt. “I want to give you something that will help you sleep. Will you drink it?”
Edane nodded. The pain in her head, in her stomach was threatening to drive her to madness. Only Leith’s hand grounded her in the present. He hovered close, not leaving her side, as Isla mixed a packet of herbs into hot water and made Edane sip at them.
“We’ll take the rest with us,” Isla, said, handing Calum the cup. Edane nodded, wondering how long before the herbs would do their work.
“Hold onto me,” said Leith. Bending down, he took Edane’s hand and guided them around his neck, then he gathered both her and the blanket, lifting them effortlessly into his arms. Edane closed her eyes against the pain in her head. Leith’s guided her head to rest on his shoulder, his stride was smooth as he maneuvered her from the room and down the hall.
“There’s a girl, quiet now. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go, I promise…” Leith’s voice was a steady, drumming murmur in her ear. The herbs were doing their work, and Edane felt her limbs grow heavy, her mind foggy, and sleep pulled her quickly under.
CHAPTER 20
L eith had never been so frightened in his entire life. The ride to Caol Loch Aillse, the small village just opposite the Isle of Skye, was the longest he’d ever taken in his life. A carriage could not move faster than a lone horseman, but Edane could not sit horseback in her condition. She spent the ride shuddering in his lap. In and out of a fitful sleep. When she was awake, she ate what food her sensitive stomach would allow her: mere pieces of plain bread that they had to soak in water for her to get it down.
The further they travelled, the quieter Edane became, which made Leith worry. This was Edane. This was his wife. She could not die.
It took them six days to arrive at the small shore-side village. Two of Leith’s men had ridden on ahead and had already crossed the river, hoping to fetch Ruaridh Beaton from Dunvegan Castle. Dunvegan was on the northwest corner of the isle, and it would take them another full day to reach it. With any luck, his men had been quick enough so that Ruaridh would meet them in Kyleakin, the town across the water from Caol Loch Aillse.
Leith spent a small fortune finding a ferryman to cross Loch Aillse in the dark, but he found one and bid farewell to Calum and Isla, telling them only, “I am in both of your debts.”
“We’ll collect,” said Calum. “Don’t worry.” He clapped Leith’s shoulder. Isla gave his cheek a kiss. “Take care of her,” she said.
Edane had spent the last two days almost entirely asleep. Isla’s assertion that her pulse was still consistent was the only thing keeping Leith sane. Edane was his now, and more than anything he wanted her well, he wanted to make amends for the way he treated her and to make her smile. He wanted to give her the Arthurian romance she’d read about in her books. She did not deserve what trials fate had given her.
Leith held Edane close to his chest as the ferryman navigated the waters of Loch Aillse, and it wasn’t long before the small boat was docking in the small village of Kyleakin.
Leith handed Edane’s too-light, slumbering figure to one of his three remaining clansmen and went to local inn to see if his men had come back with Ruaridh Beaton.
In fact, they had arrived mere hours before Leith, though the hour was late, and Beaton had to be roused from his bed. Leith secured the only other free room in the inn and bid his clansman lay Edane out on the worn comforter. Lying there, in her now dirty shift, her thick honey brown hair lank about her face, she looked but a shadow of the beautiful girl who’d boldly danced with him at the masked ball.
Ruaridh Beaton was not much older than Leith, and had become the Beaton to Clan Macleod when his father had passed. The Beatons were a mysterious clan of healers who hailed from France originally, but had learned the old arts of healing in Ireland over a hundred years ago. Though Ruaridh was young, he was capable. Tall, slender, and freshly awoken from his sleep, he bent through the low inn doorway and blinked owlishly at Edane, holding the candle close to her face and touching her at her temple, her throat, her wrist, and beneath her armpits. It took all of his restraint for Leith to not bark at the man to keep his hands to himself. It had not bothered him when Isla touched his wife, but seeing Ruaridh Beaton do it was a different matter.
“She’s been poisoned then?” said Ruaridh, turning to Leith. His voice was a light tenor, steady and competent. Leith inhaled through his nose and nodded. “Thank you for coming here.” He said. “I know you must have travelled all day.”
Beaton bowed his head. “It is my pleasure to serve the future Macleod,” he said, honestly. “What has she been poisoned with?”
“Penny Royal,” said Leith, “We think in small doses and over a few weeks’ time. She lost her baby just a week ago.”
“I am so sorry for your loss,” said the healer.
Leith shrugged. He was sorry for Edane and sorry that any child should not live to see its birthday, but he would not mourn a turn of fate that further distanced him from King J
ames.
“Penny Royal is dangerous,” the healer continued, he went over to the washstand and wet a cloth with cold water, bringing it over he laid it on Edane’s brow. “She would have been given a strong dose to make her miscarry. I do not know what sustained effects it can have. There are no antidotes, I’m afraid.”
“You can’t help her.” Leith needed to sit, and found a chair just in time for his knees to give way. He, too, was exhausted.
“I cannot cure her,” the healer corrected. “It is up to the body to heal itself if it is able. But her body has gone through a major trauma of miscarrying a child. It is struggling to heal itself on multiple fronts.”
“So, what can you do?”
“The best we can do is help her regain her health, her strength, so that her body may continue to fight.”
He walked to the door where Leith’s clansmen were hovering. “Wake the cook and bid her boil water. I will make a broth that will help. In the meantime,” he turned to Leith. “We need to break her fever. It’s gone on too long already. That blanket you carried her in on? Wet it with cold water from the loch and wrap her in it. Keep her cold until the fever breaks. You’ll know it because she’ll start to sweat.”
Leith handed Edane’s blanket to one of the clansmen and watched as Ruaridh Beaton went to the kitchen to work his particular brand of magic.
CHAPTER 21
T he next eight days were the most torturous ones of Leith’s life. The small party did not leave Kyleakin. They were able to break Edane’s fever with the cold waters of Loch Aillse, but it took a full six more days to get Edane imbibing enough broth, and taking in enough sustenance that her body began to work to heal itself. She slept a great deal of the time, but by the fifth day was no longer pained by her headaches.
On the seventh day, she was having conversations again – soft, short, but she was lucid, speaking, and she even joked.
On the eighth day, Ruaridh Beaton declared she was well enough to travel to Dunvegan without worsening. They’d left James’ carriage in Caol Lock Aillse, and so Edane had to ride on Leith’s saddle. By the time they reached Dunvegan it was Leith who was pale and sweating. He’d felt each bump in the road, each sway of the horse. Each time Edane’s mouth tightened in pain, he felt it. And when they had to stop the horses so she could be sick, he felt ill as well.
Two hours from the castle, she fell asleep again, and it was hard work to keep the horse moving steady so as not to wake her.
Leith entered the courtyard of the castle to see that several clansmen were in the courtyard, ready to help. Leith was unsurprised to see his father at their head. The old man was scowling with concern as he strode forward.
“Let me take her,” he said, gruffly. “You look fit to fall over.”
For a brief moment Leith thought about resisting. He’d made it this far with her; it was his responsibility to see her safely over his threshold. But his father was waiting, and half the clan was watching, so Leith set Edane gently into Alasdair Macleod’s strong and capable arms, eyes never leaving her as his father brought her into the castle.
Edane was aware of riding into the courtyard. She was aware that the arms now holding her weren’t Leith’s. Staring up, she was given a glimpse of her future. The man carrying her was older, but had the same wide shoulders, the same carved jaw, sculpted lips, and large, dark lashed eyes. His chin was covered with greying stubble and his black hair was shot with silver that glinted in the torchlight lining the halls of an unfamiliar castle.
“Welcome to Dunvegan,” said the man who could only be The Macleod. “You’ll be safe here, lass. No meddling monarchs, no gawping courtiers. Unfortunately, you’ll still be subject to my son, but he’s a braw boy once you get to know him.”
Edane closed her eyes, feeling intuitively the truth in his words. They’d travelled far, she knew, further than Margaret dared travel, further than the King could travel easily. She felt so weak, but at least the pain wasn’t as terrible as it had been. Ruaridh Beaton, upon hearing the details of her illness had surmised that the last dose of Penny Royal had been the largest, causing the miscarriage and the sickness that swept her body.
“These are his rooms,” said The Macleod, stepping through a doorway. “You’ve your own set, which are attached, but I know my son. He’ll want to watch over you. See that you are well.”
Edane nodded. Leith had barely left her side those days in Kyleakin. That he wasn’t here now pleased her. Hopefully someone was taking care of him. She’d been cognizant enough to realize that he hadn’t been eating, either.
“These are nice rooms,” the Macleod continued, laying her gently on the bed, his hand coming down to feel her brow and assess that there was no fever. “They overlook the waters of Loch Dunvegan, and I’ve left the windows open. You can hear the water when there’s wind, and we’ve blackcaps, sanderlings, ospreys, and puffins. You can see them just outside the window if you look.”
“Thank you,” said Edane as the Macleod tucked her into the bed as if she were a child.
“Think nothing of it, dear. You’re my daughter now as well, and I’ve taught both of Leith’s sisters how to recognize which bird is calling.” He flashed her a smile as devastating as his son’s. “You should continue to sleep. You’ll improve quickly here, I promise.”
“Thank you,” said Edane. The Macleod rested a fatherly hand on her brow, showing more affection in the last ten minutes than her father had ever shown her. Safe. She was safe. And if she could grow stronger, she might just manage to live happily ever after.
Leith wanted to rush upstairs and sit with Edane, but his father had ordered him to meet in his study. Leith had arrived in the old man’s rooms to find that a large plate had been made, heaped with a thick, marbled piece of beef, mounds of roasted parsnips and carrots, and brown bread that had been baked that morning.
Leith had not realized how vulnerable he’d felt on the road from Edinburgh. He half expected the queen to send men after Edane, or the king to find out about the miscarriage and call them back. Only now, within the fortified walls of Castle Dunvegan, with his clan thick around him, could Leith relax. Edane was here, and she was getting better. James would have a hard time reaching them. He fell on the dinner with the voracity of a wolf in winter.
When his father finally entered the study, Leith was soaking up the juices with a bread crust.
Good,” said Alasdair, gruffly. “You look too damn thin for my taste.”
Leith nodded his ascent. He knew he had not been taking care of himself. “I assume,” said Leith once he finished chewing, “that Broadly informed you about all that occurred in Edinburgh.”
“Every damn thing,” his father confirmed. “Including that you hid the miscarriage from the king.”
“She’s mine,” said Leith, simply. “He would have annulled the marriage and kept her there.”
“Likely,” said his father. “You did the right thing. I spoke with Ruaridh, and he thinks she’s over the worst of the poisoning.”
“I pray that is true,” Leith knew he sounded tired.
“And I pray she recovers soon. For James will want to see his child sooner rather than later.”
Leith leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and nodded.
“We can only hope that the miscarriage did not affect her ability to bear more children.”
Leith looked at his father sharply. “Now is hardly the time to be thinking about succession,” said Leith.
“I’m not,” said his father, dryly. “I’m thinking about James.”
Leith sat up.
“James will want to see his. I imagine he will make a trip up here in the next year or two – and blame you if there’s no baby. So, she must bear a child, son, your child. And you will tell the king it is his.”
“And if she cannot?”
“Lord help us,” said the Macleod. “We borrow a village babe if we have to. But it’s easier to sustain the lie if the child is your own. She’s a beautiful woman.
And it’s clear to everyone that you care for her. It shouldn’t be difficult to get her with child.”
Leith shifted anxiously in his chair. “I’ll speak with Ruaridh about the matter. But I’ll not put her in danger.” Leith’s own mother had died in late childbirth. With Edane recently close to death, Leith would not push her further.
“As will I. We will make her welcome here. The poor girl has been through enough, I think.”
Leith nodded and rose. “Goodnight, father.”
He took his time climbing the stairs and striding down the hall of Castle Dunvegan. It had been a long two months, and Leith felt like he could sleep a week or more. He had a feeling his father had put Edane in his rooms and opened the door gently so as not to wake her. Moonlight streamed through the open windows, illuminating the figure beneath the covers. Frail and lovely, she looked like something freshly recovered from the fairies. Like a changeling child not quite of this earth.
Lord. She was so beautiful.
Leith closed his eyes and removed his clothing before sliding beneath the soft and familiar blankets, sinking into the mattress. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he pulled her to his chest, tucking her head into his shoulder. His wife, in his bed. Leith closed his eyes and let the sleep of the dead overtake him.
CHAPTER 22
E ven Ruaridh Beaton was impressed with how swiftly Edane recovered. “It’s the air,” she told him. “It’s different here.” And indeed, it was. It was colder, fresher, and there was something about the coast that seemed to thrum with life and spoke to the life within her. But perhaps it was also love.
Edane had never felt so cherished. Those evenings early on her recovery, before she built up enough strength to move around the castle and castle grounds, Leith would sit in bed with her and read from his father’s copies of Chretien des Troyes. He hated Eric et Enide and preferred Lancelot’s more dramatic story. He told her about his childhood growing up in Dunvegan, about small affairs he had as a boy with women old enough to be his mother, and fighting in clan skirmishes with the Grants and the Campbells of Cawdor.
