Instead of a reply, Cait shifted and pressed her body against his. “I am not tired at all.”
Two days later, loud wind and rain pelted the house with force. The men rushed out to ensure the horses and smaller livestock were sheltered in the stables. Although sheep were smart enough to huddle under a shelter of some sort, men went in search of any who might’ve become lost.
A rider arrived, shivering, and soaked through. He was rushed into the kitchen so that he could warm up by the large hearth and given hot herbs to drink to dispel the chill.
“The storm has hit the village. Houses are washed away along with some of the people. Help is needed.”
“All of the men are gone to collect the sheep,” Bree explained.
“I believe Torac stayed behind,” Cait hurried through the house, hoping to find her brother.
When she went to the small bedchamber next to her mother’s she knocked and Torac opened the door. He’d been out in the rain and had just changed into dry clothes. Cait hated to give him news, which would take him back out into the storm.
“The village is being washed away. They require rescue,” she said, already tears streaming down her face. “Those poor, poor people.”
Torac turned away and grabbed a cloak. “We will save those who have survived. Do not worry.”
Thankfully the others returned not much later with the sheep they’d found. The animals protested at being ushered into shelter but seemed to settle quickly upon noticing the feed.
Soaked to the skin, Stuart waved at her. “Do not come out,” he shouted when she went to grab her cloak.
“I love ye,” Cait said wondering if he heard her through the hard rain.
The group of men mounted to head to the village, leaving the women behind to care for the animals and the house.
The wind and rain were relentless. Stuart thought he’d go blind from trying to see the way. It took much longer than it should have for him and the others to arrive at the village. At least they thought it was the village, it was hard to tell because huge waves slammed far past the shoreline.
They stopped atop the hill, taking shelter under a stall next to one of the houses that had been spared.
Some cottages that were closer to the edge of the hill had slid down the saturated land taking everything those who lived in them owned. And in some cases, the owners themselves.
After a few moments of rest, they rode on. As they made their way down the coastline, they gathered people seeking refuge and took them to the main house. There Artair was already housing dozens of women and children, and any men too old or too ill to be out searching for their neighbors. The location of the home was far enough from the village below to keep it from any real damage. The tall walls and sturdy house offered protection to those that had managed to get there.
Carrying two young lads and a dog they refused to leave behind on his horse, Stuart arrived at the house.
Artair who was drenched and muddy hurried the children inside. “Where are yer parents?” he yelled over the loud wind. The boys shook their heads, and the one clinging to the shivering pup began to cry.
The older one looked toward the door. “Father was out there fishing. Mum went to see about him, and we saw a wave take her.”
A woman came and took the lads, ushering them to the hearth. “We will find ye a blanket to keep warm,” she said soothingly.
Searching for the lost and attempting to keep from being washed away themselves, took all their strength as they continued to trudge out to help save villagers.
By the time darkness fell, Stuart was too exhausted to keep going. And it was becoming much too dangerous to continue the search. Even though the sea had calmed some, the rain and wind continued unabated.
He’d just sat down to rest and drink some hot tea when someone began pounding on the front door.
Stuart rose and partially opened the door, trying to keep the cold wind and rain from blowing inside. On the other side of the door stood a man frantically motioning for Stuart to come outside.
“My wife,” the man yelled to be heard over the storm. “I need help. She is trapped and will drown if we don’t save her.”
Stuart looked around at all the exhausted men and checking his own reserve he turned back to the man and tried to explain. “We are all too exhausted, I do not know what help we can be to ye.” He paused and looked around the room again. “We simply haven’t the strength. And I cannot risk another life by sending them back out. It’s just too dangerous.
The man’s face fell, and there was desperation in his gaze when he looked at Stuart. “Help me, sir. I beg of ye. I cannot let her die. She is my world.”
When Stuart hesitated, the man turned and walked back into the storm.
Stuart closed his eyes. If it were Cait, he would not rest until he saved her.
“Wait,” he called out to the man.
Stuart went inside, grabbed a rope and his still soaked tartan, and went back out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was late the next day before any news about the village reached Cait. A pair of guards arrived with a wagonload of people to shelter there.
The two families were given dry clothing and fed. They were to stay at Dougal and Bree’s house until the weather calmed, then husbands would return to the village to rebuild their homes.
Through tears, the women told Cait about how many homes had been washed away and of several people who were still missing.
The villagers had come together, with those who still had homes standing welcoming those misfortunate ones who didn’t. Children who could not find their parents were at the house on the hill along with any families in need of a healer.
Bree immediately decided she would take blankets and dry clothing for the people.
“I will go as well,” Cait declared. “We cannot sit idly by and do nothing.”
A look of alarm crossed the guard’s face, who’d brought the people. “I do not think ye should go. There is scarcely any room for those there at the house.”
“We will find a spot with our husbands,” Cait told the man who shook his head firmly.
“Ye should remain here. We may bring more.”
“Nonsense,” Bree said with a firm shake of her head. “That is to be my home, I have to help.”
The man looked to Cait. “Then perhaps just Lady Ross should stay here.”
Cait stilled and studied the man for a long beat. “Did my husband insist ye do not bring me there?”
“I have not spoken to him, Lady Ross. I was told by Mister Artair to ensure ye did not come.”
“Did he tell ye this without my husband knowing?”
The guard swallowed and remained silent.
“Where is my husband?” Cait asked, her heart thundering as a sense of dread began to suffocate her. “Where is Stuart?” she whispered.
“I do not know,” the guard admitted. “He went to help someone rescue their wife and did not return.”
It was as if the earth yanked her down because suddenly Cait’s knees gave way and she sunk to the floor. Instantly, Cora and Bree were at her side.
“Are they searching for him?” Bree asked.
The guard looked even more exhausted than when he arrived. “All I know is that he was not at the house. I was busy helping people and overheard someone say they were searching for him. That he’d not been seen since last night.”
“We will leave at once,” Cait said, gaining strength. “Immediately.”
The women rushed around the house, throwing blankets into the carriage.
It wasn’t long before they were racing as fast as was safe on the muddy roads toward the village.
Cait did not cry. She refused to believe that so soon after their marriage, her husband had been washed out to sea. His life lost at the place he seemed to have finally found himself.
Life could not possibly be so cruel.
Seeming to sense that she could not speak, Cora and Bree let her be and went over
what supplies they’d brought, doing their best to arrange things in the cramped space.
It was as the guard had described, utter devastation. The village was unrecognizable from just a few days ago when they’d arrived.
There were a few people milling about, digging in the sand and debris probably searching for lost belongings.
A lone boy sat on a hill overlooking the sea with his head bowed. “Ye should go see about him,” Cait told Bree, who knocked on the roof of the carriage indicating the driver should stop. The man came to the door but did not let them out.
That is Tom, his brother is at the house. He looks for his parents, they were both lost in the storm.
“The poor wee thing,” Bree said with a hitch in her voice. “Please continue until we see those out searching for Stuart.”
A short time later, the carriage came to a stop and an angry Torac appeared. He was drenched and muddy.
“Why are ye here?” he glared at her and Cora. “There is enough to worry about without ye all here.”
“Where is Stuart?” Cait said ignoring his outburst. “Where is my husband?”
Torac didn’t reply, instead he called up to the driver to take them to the house.
“No,” Cait screamed. “Tell me right now Torac. Where is Stuart?” Panic set in and she could barely breathe. “The truth.”
Torac met her gaze. “We are searching the shoreline. He went to help a man whose wife was trapped. We do not know where she was, or in what direction they went. All we know is that the man lived in that direction.” Torac pointed forward. “I am riding in the opposite direction in case he was dragged out by the tide.”
“Do ye think he is dead?”
Her brother took a deep breath. “It would be a miracle if he is not.”
For some reason instead of making her upset, his honesty helped her settle. “I believe in miracles,” she said meeting his gaze. “Have any of the items taken by the storm washed back up on the shore?”
“Aye,” Torac said once again pointing in the direction they headed. “Mostly up there.”
Cait called up to the driver. “Go.”
When they arrived where the others were searching for Stuart, her heart sank. The shoreline was rocky and hard to traverse. Everyone was on foot as horses would get their hooves caught in the rocks.
Upon seeing them, Artair and Dougal hurried over. Neither chastised them, instead asked that they stay together and help search.
It was a long time later that despair began to inch its way inside. Tears poured down her face when a young man’s mangled body was recovered. He’d washed ashore while they searched. They took him and placed him next to the bodies of two others.
Someone yelled stating they’d found someone alive. Her hopes soared only to be dashed, when two guards appeared with a woman who had survived but was badly bruised. She was ushered into the carriage.
“Ye should return to the house with her. Ye need to eat,” Artair told Cait. “I will continue searching through the night.”
“I cannot leave,” Cait said, looking up at the sky and glad to see that clouds were not gathering. “I have to stay and look.”
A bonfire was lit and soon the fire burned brightly.
Despite the fact she was quickly losing energy, she forced herself to walk away from the fire’s warmth and back in the direction of where the woman had been found.
Dougal caught up with her, his face haggard from lack of sleep. “If I know my cousin, he dragged himself under some brush and is covered with branches to keep warm. Which increases his chances of surviving but makes it harder to find him if he is unconscious.”
The words made her feel better as they continued searching on the beach where the waves now lapped peacefully against the rocks.
“There’s something,” Dougal said and scrambled to pull a sodden tartan from the water. It was Stuart’s.
Cait’s eyes widened as she scanned the shoreline expecting to see Stuart’s lifeless body. In desperation, she raced down to the water looking side to side, for any sign of him.
“Stuart!” she screamed. Her cries were muffled by the sound of the sea. “Stuart!” Stumbling across the rocks, she walked back into the woods praying to find something that indicated he survived.
“Look!” Dougal exclaimed rushing toward some bushes. In his hurry, he tripped and as he scrambled to stand, Cait caught up with him. She didn’t see anything.
“What is it?” She shook with fear. Torn between wanting to know the truth and at the same time fearing it.
“There,” Dougal said rushing forward to where it looked as if a tree had fallen. He pulled an oversized branch and there on the ground curled into a ball was a man’s body.
“Who is it?” Cait asked suddenly barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Dougal was bent over the person touching him and then he removed his thick coat and placed it over the man.
When he looked to Cait, he was crying. “It is him. He is barely alive.”
Cait threw herself over Stuart willing the little bit of body heat she had to seep into him. “Go get help,” she screamed.
Dougal rushed off yelling for help. She removed her cloak and then her underskirts and did her best to wrap Stuart with them. His lips were blue and his breathing shallow, but he was alive and that was all that mattered.
Days passed and Stuart remained unconscious. They kept him at the large house in the village at first. However, after a pair of days, she and her mother decided to take him home. If he were to die, Cait preferred that he spend his last days in their new home.
He’d regained his coloring and his breathing normalized, but he did not waken. Every day Cait would spend a long time painstakingly feeding him clear broths and herbal teas so that he had some nutrition. Even though she was as careful as she could be, at times he would choke on what she gave him. It was the only time he seemed to have a bit of life in him. Coughing and sputtering. It was what kept her going. The belief that he was still in there and he would beat this.
Every day she sat beside him, speaking to him. Every night she would cuddle with him, kissing his face and reassuring him that she loved him.
It wasn’t until the day that the rest of the family arrived that reality sunk in. Stuart, in all probability, would die. Cait went into mourning. She hid from everyone. Stayed with her mother and allowed the brothers and Lady Mariel to take turns watching over Stuart.
Once they had all sought their beds for the night, only then would she go to the bedchamber and sleep with him.
One morning, Cait walked in from breaking her fast to find Lady Mariel attempting to feed Stuart. The liquid was spilling from his mouth down his chin.
“He does not like that,” Cait snapped, taking the spoon and bowl from the startled woman. “Ye must feed him slower.”
Cait put the items aside and wiped Stuart’s chin with great care.
“Have ye told him that he can go?” Lady Mariel asked, her eyes tearing up. “He may be waiting to hear those words from ye.”
“He cannot go,” Cait replied curtly. “He will recover. It will take time, but that is why I feed him and have the guards come in daily and sit him up in the chair. The healer told me it is important that he be able to sit and use his legs.”
Lady Mariel studied her son’s face and smiled at him. “I wish ye would open yer eyes.” She told him. And then looked to Cait. “He has the most beautiful eyes of all my sons. They all have bright green with bits of blue and gold, but Stuart has the most gold of all of them.”
“Aye, he does,” Cait replied glad Lady Mariel did not speak again of allowing Stuart to die.
When Cait began to feed him, the woman walked out to give her time alone with him.
Moments later, she placed the bowl and spoon aside and lifted his right arm and flexed it several times. His limbs were heavy, and she loved that about him.
Cait bent and placed a kiss on his mouth. “Why do ye not waken my love?” She lowered his right arm an
d began working with the left. “It has been four weeks. Ye have had yer rest. I need ye to wake.”
His eyes fluttered. Sometimes when she spoke to him, they did that, but they never opened.
“I was hoping to tell ye once ye were awake and looking at me, but I cannot keep it to myself any longer,” Cait said releasing his arm.
Cupping his face with her hands, she studied his face. “Ye are going to be a father, Stuart. I am with child.”
Her breath caught when he didn’t respond. “Waken my love, I cannot do it by myself. I do not want to raise our bairn alone. Please do not leave me.”
She wiped tears away, but more followed so quickly in their wake she gave up. “Now that I found ye, I do not want to be without ye. I cannot let ye go. I refuse to do it.”
Unable to withstand the silence and lack of reaction, she raced from the room and out the front door into the nearby trees to cry in private. Rain began to fall but Cait didn’t care. She could not return to the house. To the reality that her husband was dying. And to the family who walked about draped in grief waiting for the inevitable.
It was a long while later that she trudged back to the house. Straightening, Cait did her best to gain strength to face what was her life now.
Darach Ross stood in the doorway looking in her direction. His blond mane was being tossed in the wind making him look like his moniker. A lion.
That he watched her approach could only mean there was news and she braced herself.
“Something happened?” she asked just a few paces from the doorway, unwilling to take another step.
“He was thrashing about violently,” Darach replied and wiped a tear away. “We had to tie him down.”
Cait began to cry. “I must go see about him.”
“Do ye really believe he will recover?” the proud laird asked, searching her face. “Ye cling to a hope that I wish I had.”
“Hope is all I have.” She fell against him, and he hugged her. The feel of the large man’s body was so much like Stuart’s that she wanted to cling to him and pretend it was Stuart if only for a little while.
The Eagle Page 20
