by Aileen Adams
Margery took pains to ensure his warmth and comfort, placing a saddle over the log and beneath his head to give him something more forgiving than rough bark to sleep on.
Hugh’s men built a fire, and Broc tended to the horses while Hugh examined Derek’s side.
“It seems as though the bleeding has stopped,” Hugh announced as he changed the linen dressing. “You’ll have to be careful of how you sleep tonight, make sure you don’t roll or stretch for fear of opening it.”
Derek nodded, and Margery noticed with relief how much better his color was than earlier. She took this as a good sign.
It had been a long afternoon, stretching into early evening before any of them wanted to give up for the night. They knew that the closer they got to Duncan land, the better, the sooner Derek could be properly tended to.
Night would not be denied once it fell and travel became too dangerous. Especially with the presence of wild animals prowling the woods, perhaps able to pick up the scent of Derek’s blood.
Margery’s stomach turned at the thought of the blood they’d shed back in the clearing, of MacBride’s body lying where it had fallen. Of what the animals might be doing to him at that very moment.
She scrambled away from her place at Derek’s side, managing to make it a safe distance away from him before the contents of her stomach released themselves.
Now that they were resting for the evening and no longer going through the difficulties of travel, she had the time to reflect on what they’d done.
The men were kind enough to leave her alone, and to pretend they hadn’t overheard her retching once she returned to the fire. Broc merely offered her a flask so she might drink.
Later, after they’d eaten and some of the men had already stretched out for the night around the fire, she sat at Derek’s side.
“How do you feel?” she whispered, wishing to avoid waking those who were already sleeping.
“I don’t know that I could win in a footrace at the moment, lass, but I’ve been much worse.” His eyes traveled over her face, his forehead creasing as he frowned. “When I thought I might lose you, for one.”
“You could never lose me.”
“You know what I mean.” One of his hands closed over hers, his thumb running over the ridge of her knuckles. “I learned something today, too. I never knew what true fear felt like until this day.”
“Oh, Derek…”
“I mean it,” he insisted. “Even in the army, I never knew what it was to be truly afraid. I could handle myself. On stormy seas, standing at the wheel of my ship, navigating through the whitecaps, half-blind from lightning flashing on all sides, I never felt fear. Anger, perhaps, at nature for thinking it could get the best of me. But never fear.”
She listened quietly.
“Not like today,” he concluded with a sigh. “I don’t know how other men live with that sort of fear in their hearts. It nearly crushed mine.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, lass, that I love you so. That I would’ve gladly given my life for yours.” His eyes glowed nearly green in the light from the fire, and they burned into her very soul.
“I would never ask you to do any such thing.”
“You wouldn’t have to ask.”
She rested her head on his shoulder, staying on his good side, and he wound an arm around her. “You were very brave.”
“As were you. A wildcat, in fact.”
“I was?”
“You still don’t remember. Aye, it’s for the best. Perhaps you never will. Sometimes, when we’re overcome the way you were, we never quite remember what we did. There are battles I don’t remember,” he admitted.
“Even now?”
“Even now. I know I survived. I know I came out of them covered in the blood of other men. But I don’t quite remember how it came about.”
“I don’t want to remember.”
“Then, I hope you don’t.”
They fell silent for a while, both watching the fire and the men who fell asleep around it one by one. The sky was clear, the stars shining brighter than they ever had. Perhaps it was her happiness that made them appear that way, or the relief of knowing they were safe and Derek would survive his wound.
She did remember seeing MacBride bury the dirk in his side. That was the last clear memory she possessed. Perhaps that was enough to send her into a frenzy.
“I need you to know something, Margery.” He rarely called her by her proper name while they spoke casually, so she knew this was important.
“What is it?” she breathed.
He sighed, his arm tightening ever so slightly. “If we could’ve gotten out of there without my killing him, I would’ve preferred it that way. I never go into a fight looking to kill the other man. Even when he’s done something as terrible as MacBride did. But there was no other way. He forced it on himself, if anything.”
“He would’ve killed you. He tried to.”
“Aye, that he did. If he’d managed to strike higher, he might have done just that.”
“Don’t say such things.”
“Even though it’s true?” he asked, and his question hung unanswered over them. She refused to entertain such a thought.
Even though it was true.
She was certain she’d never fall asleep, in spite of the fatigue which seemed to live in her very bones. She had never pushed herself as hard as she’d been pushed over the course of their travels into the Highlands.
While fleeing to Silloth, she hadn’t been in the possession of a mare and a gelding who didn’t enjoy being led through the woods, for one.
At least the scenery was beautiful, staggeringly so. She’d never imagined such beauty: the majesty of the snow-capped mountain peaks as they’d approached the Grampians, the golden light which seemed to pour itself over those very peaks and the woods which surrounded them in the late afternoon. The fresh, thrilling scent of pine and the sight of deer as they dashed in and out of sight, enjoying the early spring with its soft breezes.
Beautiful or not, she was exhausted, and the warmth and strength of the man beside her soothed her into deep sleep before long.
35
It was another full day and a half of traveling before a group of men on horseback met up with their party.
The going had been slow, with Derek’s condition still a concern. It had been difficult to move between taking their time for his sake and hurrying for his sake. Only with one of Sarah’s poultices would any of them feel secure that he would heal well.
There was no fever, at least, which made it appear as though infection would not be a concern. Yet.
Derek had heard more stories of Jake’s close call with his own infection than he cared to recall, so he knew how terribly painful and dangerous that could be.
His gratitude to Hugh—and to Sarah, for instructing his brother in how to perform basic healing measures—was nearly as great as his gratitude for Margery’s safety.
“Maccay!” Hugh had saluted his best friend at first sight of him, and the wave they’d received in return had been enough to bring tears to Margery’s eyes.
“What is it?” Derek had asked, bringing his horse in line with hers.
The wound ached something fierce, sometimes to the point of agony, but he’d never let her see it. They’d slowed their pace somewhat to accommodate him, but he wouldn’t have slowed them any further for anything in the world.
Margery needed to be safe, after all. The sooner she was with the Duncans and being fussed over, the easier he would rest.
She’d laughed softly, wiping away the tears which had already coursed down her cheeks. One of those cheeks was badly swollen, thanks to the slap from MacBride.
When he thought about that—which he did every time he looked at her, how could he not—he was glad the man was dead.
“I almost didn’t believe we would ever arrive.” She’d laughed. “Isn’t that silly? Being here, getting to the house, means you’ll be cared
for.”
“That’s funny,” he’d said with a grin. “I was thinking the same about you.”
36
“She did what?” Sarah’s eyes were wide with appreciation by the time Derek got to the part where Margery had attacked MacBride.
“She beat him with every ounce of strength she had, and then some. If it hadn’t been for that, he might have stabbed again and again before I could stop him.”
“And she doesn’t remember?”
“She claims she doesn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s too much for her to think on.”
“I can only imagine.”
“How is she?”
“Sleeping comfortably, the last I checked. She needed a good, hot bath and clean clothing, of course. A big, hot meal which she ate with great relish while the others peppered her with questions about herself. And now, she sleeps.”
“Good,” he decided. She was safe, she was protected, she was loved. He could finally rest.
Young Mary dozed in a basket by the fire, and Sarah fetched her once she was finished with his treatment.
With one of her poultices on the wound and a tincture for the pain, not to mention a few pillows behind his head and a soft bed beneath him, he felt better than he had in days.
He smiled at the sight of the babe, who seemed to have grown by leaps and bounds since he’d left.
“And how is young Jacob?” he asked when she returned to his bedside, cradling the baby on her shoulder.
She smiled brilliantly. “A strong, fine boy, and the apple of his father’s eye.”
“I would expect nothing else. And Heather?”
“Furious that I won’t let her out of bed, naturally. No matter how many times I’ve reminded her that there will come a day when she wishes somebody would order her to bed, she refuses to listen. She should be up and around within a few days, however, and I’m sure she’ll come to see you as soon as she can.”
“I don’t expect to be down for long,” he replied.
She fixed him with a cold stare. “Do I have to deal with two uncooperative charges? You’ll lie abed as long as I tell you to; you’ve already pushed yourself far enough, riding for days after being wounded so. I know it was necessary, but it isn’t now.”
“Yes, Mother.”
She rolled her eyes with a snicker, rising. “Get some sleep. I added something to the broth to help with that.”
“I’m not certain I would need the help,” he murmured as she left, his eyelids already sliding shut.
When he woke, the sky outside the window was full dark. He tried to think back on the time of day it had been when he first fell asleep but couldn’t quite put it together. He might even have slept an entire day, for all he knew. He’d been that exhausted.
Turning his head to the side revealed a happy surprise.
“Good evening,” Margery whispered, beaming.
“Good evening, lass.” He patted the side of the bed, then took her hand as she sat down.
“You know, it isn’t proper that I be here in your room, alone,” she murmured with a teasing grin. “But we’ve slept together out in the woods, haven’t we?”
“That we have, and while I’ve never backed down from a challenge, I must admit there isn’t much I could do to compromise you in this state.”
She blushed. “Good thing, then.”
“How are you?” he asked, always more concerned for her than he was for himself.
“Wonderfully well,” she admitted. “Everyone has been lovely. The girls are sweet, and the babies…” Her happy sigh told him what he needed to know about her feelings.
“Have you met Phillip and Jake?”
“Oh, yes. They wanted to know all about me. They’re both rather… strong in character,” she observed, clearly trying to be gentle.
He laughed as hard as he dared with a hole in his side. “Aye, they are that, and then some.”
“But they’re generous and caring. They were both in to check on you, too. I’m to send for them when you wake up.”
“I don’t see you running for them now,” he murmured, foregoing her hand in favor of the thick, clean hair which hung loose about her shoulders. It seemed to glow in the light from the fire which blazed away along one wall, its color so rich and vibrant.
“I have no wish to bring others to us. Not at this moment.”
“No?” he whispered with a half-smile.
“No.” She was bolder than she’d ever been before as she leaned down, one hand on either side of him, to press her mouth to his.
He held her face in one hand, the other resting at the small of her back.
It seemed to go on and on, the sweetest thing he’d ever known. Just the two of them, just her heart beating madly against his chest, where his beat just as madly.
When it was over—moments or hours later, he wasn’t certain which—she smiled shyly.
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you properly for days, I have to admit.”
He blew out a long, slow breath. “If waiting for days results in a kiss like that, I’d say it was worth the wait.”
37
Margery sat beside Derek, taking his hand in hers.
It had been three days since their arrival at the manor house, and he was finally declared well enough to leave his bed just that morning.
Phillip wasted no time in summoning him to his private room, where he did all of his business.
Jake was waiting for them, standing by the window with his nearly newborn son in his arms.
“You’ll spoil the boy before he’s even a year old,” Phillip warned him, the more experienced of the two.
“My boy won’t be spoiled,” Jake argued, eyes never leaving the sleeping baby’s sweet face. The child was asleep, unaware of what was being said about him. “I’ll be just as firm with him as our father was with us. There won’t be a spoiled head under this roof, as long as I have anything to say about it.”
Phillip then turned his attention to Derek. “I’m glad to see you doing so well. My wife tells me you had a rather close call, by her estimation.”
Derek cleared his throat, shifting his eyes in Margery’s direction as though to signal for silence in her presence.
She merely shook her head. “Sarah already told me. I’m not a wilting flower. I can accept that the blade came close to wounding you much more severely.”
“I didn’t know you knew,” he murmured.
Phillip chuckled. “Get used to it. I’ve learned that women understand and can handle much more than we give them credit for. My wife still surprises me from time to time.”
Margery decided she liked him quite a lot, Jake, too. While they had overwhelmed her when she’d first arrived, she was already growing accustomed to their strong presence. In that respect, they weren’t unlike Derek.
And they were almost painfully sweet and gentle with their wives, which went a long way toward warming Sarah’s heart. A man who could cradle his baby so tenderly was undoubtedly a good soul.
“What are your plans now?” Phillip asked, getting to the business of their meeting.
Derek shifted in his chair.
This was something he hadn’t yet shared with her, though she knew he’d been meeting with Broc since their return. The two of them had come up with something together, she felt.
“I’ve discussed this at length with Broc,” he announced. “At first, I was set on selling the business, if not reestablishing it in Kirkcaldy.”
“Now?”
“Now, my priorities have changed.” He squeezed Margery’s hand. “I wish to live a more stable life. Broc, on the other hand, wishes to return to shipping. It’s all he knows, and he enjoys it.”
“You’ll sell the ships to him, then?” Jake suggested.
Derek held up a hand. “We had considered that, as well, but it would take quite a long time for him to pay me their worth, though I would never hold the debt over his head, mind you. He’s too proud a man to be comfortable with an arrangement
such as that. And, so, I did what I had planned on doing in the future. I named him my partner.”
Margery smiled in relief. It made perfect sense, and she’d never thought of it. Apparently, neither had either of them until recently.
“You’ll still be part-owner of the business, then?” she asked.
“Aye, in name, mostly. With my name still on the business, my merchants will know who they’re dealing with and will have faith in shipping with us. Broc will be involved in the day-to-day work, while I will have a say in major decisions. Now that there will be a… void in Kirkcaldy,” he added, clearing his throat, “I’m certain we can establish a new warehouse there.”
“No wonder he looked so pleased when we crossed paths with him this morning,” Phillip observed.
He then turned his attention to Margery, who swallowed hard when the weight of his gaze fell on her.
“And you?”
“And me?” she squeaked.
He chuckled, softening. “I’ve heard you had plans to request protection and a home of your own in the village.”
She wished someone had warned her they were planning to announce her intentions. She felt at a loss, having been unaware of his knowledge. “Yes,” she replied, seeing no other option but honesty. “I had considered requesting that on arrival. Derek’s condition took my attention until now.”
“Naturally, naturally,” he agreed. “Do you feel the same as you did before?”
“I would like to remain on Duncan land,” she admitted, her voice soft. Why did she suddenly feel so shy? “But I would like to live someplace I could call my own. I realize it wouldn’t truly be my own,” she added, blushing.
“I understand,” he replied, smiling kindly.
“I’ve always lived on a farm, and I believe I would do best there.”
Phillip pursed his lips, then rewarded her with a slow nod. “I think we can arrange that. I see no reason why you shouldn’t become part of the Duncan clan, if you wish to do so. Especially since…” He trailed off, waving a hand between the two of them.
