The Draig's Woman

by Wadler, Lisa Dawn

  Claire pleaded, “Aliana, you have to stop crying. Please, I can’t hold you up any longer.”

  With a look of surprise, Aliana blurted out, “Oh, forgive me. I lost myself for a moment.” Straightening, Aliana’s gaze took in the wounded woman before her. “You should be in bed, come now and back in.”

  “I will happily climb back in after a trip down the hall. Do you see my robe anywhere?”

  Aliana took the requested item from the chest and helped her to put it on. “Aye, Claire, get used to many trips down the hall. ‘Tis the way of things for you now.” Aliana rubbed her showing belly. “I will go with you. Now that you speak of it, I also have a need.”

  Saying it out loud for the first time, Claire said quietly, “Aliana, I’m having some strange pain. Neala’s not sure if I will keep the baby.”

  “Mayhap in this Neala is wrong. You are strong. Let us nay speak of what we dinna ken for certain. For now, I will see you down the corridor.”

  The journey down the corridor to the garderobe had never seemed so long. The movement, while horribly uncomfortable, was not unmanageable. Claire knew the aches and pains would fade in time. Accomplishing this small task gave her faith that her body would heal. As for the rest, time would tell.

  While she waited for Aliana to finish, Claire was not surprised to be faced with Neala.

  “You should have called for me. ‘Tis far too soon for you to be out of bed. ‘Tis a very foolish thing for you to have done.” The disapproval on Neala’s face was clear for any to see.

  “Neala, I’m all right. Honestly it felt good to move a bit. Besides Aliana was with me.” Claire tried to smile through wounded features as the other woman emerged from the garderobe.

  Neala’s comment lost its sharp tone. “And aren’t you two a fine pair, one barely able to stand and the other rounding with child. Seriously, do you think Aliana would be able to catch you if you fall? Rest in bed is what you need to protect the bairn you carry. Heed me in this, child.”

  She instinctively knew Neala spoke only from concern. She reached to take the housekeeper’s outstretched hand. “I’m sorry. I was very careful, and getting up is probably good for me, well, maybe it is. I’ll go back to bed now, okay?” The truth was the exertion had left her a bit weak. The small sharp pain was back in her abdomen, not to mention her head swam with every step. Neala held her firmly to her side as they walked. “Wait. Is Hagan awake? I would really like to see him.”

  Aliana answered as they walked, “Nay, Claire. My husband spent some time speaking with Lachlan. He just ate and drank the vile herbs Neala made for him. Hagan will sleep for some time now. But he wishes to see you when you are able.”

  Claire remarked that she understood the vile part and the coma-like sleep that followed but made sure to acknowledge her appreciation for the care, bad taste or not. Neala looked as tired as she felt. So did Aliana. It was obvious the two had been busy.

  Entering her chamber again, the bed beckoned until the smell of food caught her attention.

  “I saw that, child. Into the bed and the tray is yours.” Neala smiled. “A strong appetite is a fine sign of recovery.”

  Now propped up, Aliana arranged pillows for Claire’s back as Neala covered her legs with the bedding. The attention seemed a bit smothering. “You both can stop now, I’m comfortable.” She released a soft chuckle as the other two women halted their movements. “Food please.”

  “You are fortunate to be able to eat. Even now my food sits poorly some days,” Aliana said.

  Is being able to eat a bad sign? The pains in her abdomen, while not consistent, were enough to make her wonder if this new life stood a chance. Claire was pleased to have Neala disturb her thoughts.

  “Child, if you are well enough, Lachlan wishes to speak with you. If it were up to me, you would be given many days to gather your strength before speaking of what befell you while traveling.” Neala shook her head in disgust.

  I might as well get it over with. There is nothing to hide.

  “I understand, Neala. When does Lachlan want to speak?”

  Aliana answered the question. “If you are able, now is fine. I will fetch him from the hall. Lachlan is a fine man, you will like him.”

  After Aliana left, Neala continued, “She speaks true. He is a fine man and a good laird. I will stay while he talks to you. If you become tired or dinna wish to continue, say it and I will send him away.”

  “I guess that explains why I’m in bed still wearing my robe.” Claire eyed Neala as the tray was removed.

  “Aye, child.” Neala nodded with approval at the food eaten and wrung a cloth in the herbed water bowl. “Lie back until he arrives. This is still needed for the swelling.”

  Soothing was the only word in her mind. She hoped the swelling would go down soon. She wanted to be able to see out of both eyes again. Grateful for no mirror, she could only imagine how black and blue it must appear.

  The sound of a man clearing his throat pulled her out of a doze.

  She was aware that someone stood by the bed, but her head couldn’t turn to see the visitor. “If you would please come to the other side of the bed where I can see you, this will be much easier.”

  She knew this stranger must be Lachlan. He was tall, maybe six feet, with gray hair peppered into the dark. He wore a full beard, but it was trimmed and clean. His age was hard to guess. She assumed mid-forties. His blue eyes were light and clear with small smile lines around them. While not as big as Ian, it was obvious Lachlan was in good shape and strong.

  His voice was smooth, deep, and clear. “I am Lachlan, Laird of the Campbell clan. My thanks for agreeing to speak with me, Claire.”

  She looked up into his warm face. “Would you mind sitting? It’s a bit uncomfortable to look up at you.” As he moved a chair to the bedside, she decided quickly she liked him.

  Lachlan smiled and sat by her side. “I’ve come to ask you a few questions. I would have preferred to only speak with Hagan, but he claims you are the one who told him everything.”

  It was hard to miss what he danced around; Lachlan didn’t want to deal with a woman. Too bad, I don’t really want to deal with this in any shape, way, or form. “I get it. Ask me what you want to know.”

  “I am aware of the tale Hagan tells. I would hear it from you. I have also spoken with Tavis. Shall we say the two tales told differ greatly?”

  Claire’s reply halted as the door slammed open. While she couldn’t see him, Ian’s voice boomed with anger. “I thought I made it clear the lass was nay to be disturbed.”

  For the first time, she was grateful for the swollen eye. She didn’t want to see Ian. Now she was just “the lass,” no name, just “the lass.” She struggled to ignore Ian, his presence in the room, his smell, and the fresh pain in her heart. “It’s fine.”

  Lachlan apparently wasn’t going to be stopped by Ian. “Claire was awake and agreed to this, Ian. Please either sit or leave. There are things I would ask. The fates of at least two clans lie in the truth.”

  Ian sat in the chair by the bed on her blind side. She thought he had been there that morning but tossed the notion aside as wishful thinking. Claire continued where they had started. “You said the stories had differences, Lachlan. That much I can believe. I’ll admit there is probably some truth in what Tavis said.” Claire tried not to focus on Lachlan’s wandering gaze, too aware that the man eyed every injury visible.

  “‘Tis my understanding Laird Tavis’s man, Nolen, told you a great deal. There is also the claim that Tavis’s men attacked you and Hagan as you traveled home to Douglas lands. Hagan told us his version, and I would hear yours.”

  Claire was only going to relive this attack once and then hopefully forget it all. It would be done completely with nothing left out. She took a deep breath for focus and began with the boo
ks. That was the true beginning. She explained the accounts and the unaccounted dower lands. The reason of her departure was left out. This man didn’t need to hear about her heartache. “We had stopped to eat something, it was past midday . . .”

  Ian took in every word Claire spoke and noted the calm tone of her voice. He listened as she talked of stepping into the woods alone. He knew full well how she hated taking care of her needs in this manner. His pulse quickened as she described the sound of swords alerting her to the danger and the chase given by the first man and his subsequent quick death. Ian felt the blow to the head as she described it. The bruises on her delicate wrists were explained as his heart pounded in his chest. Nolen spoke his confession through her voice, the plan to destroy life there. He was amazed at how she remembered it all so clearly, even the details of how many men guarded the mines. Claire needed to be sure all understood Mairi was innocent. He was aware that details were left out of her tale, as the shallow cuts and bruising to her body had not been explained.

  Ian felt his breath stop as she spoke of the knot in Nolen’s trews. His eyes locked on his bootlaces as that night danced through his thoughts. So many ways he had failed her, failed to keep his word. He found rage to be a better companion than guilt. How dare the bastard touch her! He wished Nolen were still alive so that he could kill him with his bare hands.

  Laird Lachlan interrupted the tale. “So this is when Hagan found you? I would also never hesitate to a kill a man who had dared to attack a woman of my clan.”

  Claire continued. “No, Lachlan. I didn’t know if Hagan was even alive. Nolen led me to believe he was dead.”

  Ian felt his loins tighten as Claire described the move used on Nolen. Her hands showed how she pulled her body over the sword. There was little satisfaction with the quick manner of Nolen’s death. He wished the man had suffered for days.

  “This is when Hagan found me. I told him everything. We wrapped our wounds and came back.” Claire leaned back against the pillows as the tale finished. “I believe I owe you my thanks for catching me in the hall the other night.”

  “No thanks is needed, lass. I am grateful to have been able to prevent you more hurt.”

  Neala’s voice came from near the fireplace. “‘Tis enough for now. The poor child is tired, and she must rest.” At the comment, Lachlan rose from the chair and gave Claire a slight nod of thanks.

  “Do you believe me?”

  Lachlan stopped his walk to the door. “Your story is the same as Hagan’s. Though I will not lie to you, I am nay quite sure who to believe. Tavis tells a tale involving . . . Well, let us say the man tells a different tale.”

  “Laird Lachlan, serve Tavis his ale. Then you can tell me who you believe,” Claire replied.

  The Campbell’s voice strong and clear, “‘Tis exactly what Hagan suggested. Neala, do you ken where it is?”

  “Finella has it stored beneath the kitchen, per Tavis’s request. It should all still be sealed,” Claire added.

  “Mayhap you are right. Come, Ian, let us go fetch the man a drink.”

  Ian rose from the chair beside her bed. He only wanted to stay with her, a chance to speak with her. Much was left unsaid between them, and there was much to fix. After all she had been through, Ian owed her that. If the ale were truly poisoned, as he believed, he would watch Tavis die. He would see this through to the end, for Claire’s sake.

  As he reached to close the door to her chamber, Neala fussed over her comfort. A cup of healing herbs was quickly drained. Ian knew she would sleep again, and then he would return.

  Ian sat again by Claire’s side, this time in the chair Lachlan had earlier occupied. The hour was late, yet sleep would not be found. He was afraid that she would not wake again that night, and he had already missed the last time her eyes opened. Neala had been shaken when she left the chamber a short time before and only stated that Claire had pain and that a change in the herbs had been made. Ian could only wonder what would cause Neala to change her course of care. The housekeeper would give no details other than pain.

  He waited for her to wake, to tell her that Tavis was no more. His death had been slow and painful. Ian’s mind raced with thoughts that this fate was almost his and that of all he was sworn to protect.

  On the morrow, Ian and Lachlan would ride out to take back what was his. With help from the Campbell and his men, the mines would again be in the possession of the Draig clan. He wanted to tell her this, how he would avenge this wrong. More than that, he wished to speak with her to find a way to repair the hurt between them. This hurt that had been caused by his deeds.

  Ian’s mind only saw the night he told Claire to leave. The hurt on her face, even the memory, was a knife to his chest. He felt the moment his soul died as the cursed words left his mouth. Her hand had slapped away his offer of help as she stumbled in their chamber. Tears had streaked her sweet face at the betrayal of her love. He was haunted by the vision of her fading from sight on horseback. How does one make such a wrong disappear? What amends could ever erase such pain? Such weakness?

  A scream startled his thoughts. Ian was on his feet with the dagger in hand before he could blink. Quickly, he realized the sound came from Claire and sheathed the weapon as he faced her. For a moment, the eye contact between them was the only thing that mattered, or it would have been if she could truly see. The effects of the herbs and dream were strong upon her bruised, swollen features and made Ian doubt she was truly awake.

  “Claire, all is well, sweeting.”

  Her lack of reply was to be expected, yet he could see her breathing slow as the dream loosened its hold. She strained to see who had spoken in the dim light.

  “Ian?”

  That she even questioned his presence and doubted that he sat by her side through all was one more shred of proof of all that stood wrong. “Aye, sweeting.” He gave her a moment to adjust as he left her side to fetch a drink. “Here now, drink. Neala left this for you in case you woke.” He smiled as she drank from the cup, secure in Neala’s belief that sleep, even if forced, would allow her body to heal.

  The empty cup hit the floor as Claire cringed and fell back against the bedding, curled like a child. Unable to hide his panic, Ian demanded, “Where does it hurt, sweeting? I will fetch Neala.”

  The strength in her voice, stopped him. “Don’t bother. She can’t do anything. She knows, Ian. Neala can’t help me.”

  Grief was evident in her voice, and he crouched by the bedside as his hands stroked her bound hair. “Mayhap she can. If there is still pain, Neala should ken it.” Claire’s curled body spoke of the hurt as her hands held her stomach. “Mayhap the herbs have merely upset you. ‘Tis not an unheard of thing.” Ian questioned if he should have given her more.

  “She knows . . . she knows.” Claire’s words trailed off, the strong drink blurred her voice. “She can’t do anything. I can’t do anything . . . can’t save him . . . the child . . . I dreamt of him. He has such beautiful green eyes . . .”

  “All are safe here.” He was stunned that even with her wounds she fretted for Cerwyn. “The child is safe, sweeting, asleep in his bed. You are safe. I swear this to you. You are safe.”

  “He’s all . . . that . . . I had left.”

  The words in her herb-induced daze tore at Ian’s heart. Doing what he wished to do from the start, Ian climbed gently into bed with her. “Let me loosen you hair, sweeting. You will be more comfortable.” Grateful that she allowed this intimacy, he undid the simple braid. His fingers combed her hair loose as her body relaxed. He noted that Claire wore a shift in bed. “Would you prefer the shift removed?” Her whimper was mixed with anxiety when she answered, “No,” and Ian only lightly rubbed her arm. “Then I will leave it on you if the garment brings you comfort.” Once again Ian silently cursed Nolen for whatever he had done to leave Claire afraid to sleep as she prefer
red.

  Mindful of her injuries, remembering where each hurt lay, he wrapped his body against her back and his arms around hers as Claire held her stomach. He ignored her body as it tensed against contact and waited for her to relax in his hold. Ian whispered in her ear. “I will make this right, sweeting. On the morrow, I ride to take back the mines as I should have from the beginning. When I return, we will begin again. One day without you by my side was more than I could bear. Together, Claire, you and I together are all that matter.” He offered his hand to the pain in her stomach and hoped the warmth would soothe her ache. “You are all to me. To say I love you is not enough. Every day I will strive to be the man you deserve. You are mine, sweet Claire, now and always.” Ian continued to give voice to the love in his heart and dreams for their future.

  “Ian,” she murmured.

  He felt peace as she finally found hers in quiet sleep.

  Peace became joy as she tucked her head under his chin, once again seeking his warmth and protection. When the fingers of her uninjured hand wove with his, Ian knew bliss as he had never known. There was hope. Letting sleep wash over him, Ian slept with Claire tucked against him.

  Part Three

  “Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”

  - Confucius

  Chapter 27

  Claire stared into the palm of her left hand and couldn’t help but wonder if the scar would fade. It wasn’t jagged, just red and ugly. She was thankful her hand still worked. She wasn’t quite able to make a fist without discomfort, but that, too, should become easier. As for the rest of the cuts? There were now only light marks on her legs and chest. She was confident that Neala was correct and these would disappear in time. Her vision was surprisingly good as new, and there were no lasting repercussions from the blow to the head.