Highland Rising (The House of Pendray Book 4)

by Anna Markland

  Now, Gray’s love for her had given him the will to live. She was the center of his universe. She smiled, hoping his drugged state prevented him from seeing her tears. “I’ll nay allow it,” she declared.

  He closed his eyes. “I’m ready,” he rasped.

  Seated on the opposite side of the bed, Jewel took his other hand and nodded to Faith.

  Garnet grasped Gray’s ankle with both hands.

  Their patient grimaced when Sarah cleansed the open wound with turpentine, gritting his teeth when Munro forced the edges of the gaping hole together.

  “I’m here, my love,” she whispered. “When ye’re well again, we’ll walk…”

  The words flowed, though she had little idea what she was saying, her attention wholly on the needle efficiently piercing Gray’s flesh, and the neat catgut stitches Giles wrought.

  She had little doubt the lad would one day become a surgeon, but the more pleasing realization was that Gray had succumbed to the drug.

  “Help me with this,” Sarah said, jolting her back to reality.

  Together they spread the mixture of egg whites, oil of roses and vinegar over the newly stitched wound. Gray didn’t move.

  “The plaster will harden quickly if he stays so still,” Sarah murmured.

  “Ye’ve enchanted him,” Jewel whispered. “He’s completely under yer spell.”

  The words were uttered with a broad smile, so Faith took the pronouncement as a good omen.

  Gray acknowledged he was fortunate to have so many caring people around him. He doubted any physician could provide better medical attention than Sarah and Giles.

  Jewel visited several times a day, chattering to help pass the time.

  Marten brought Blair, explaining in detail all aspects of the treatment of musket wounds to his younger cousin.

  Munro fetched books and shared his latest thoughts about his campaign to better the lives of orphaned bairns.

  Garnet kept him abreast of the latest news about Argyll who’d been taken in chains from Renfrew to Edinburgh and was expected to be executed on the same chopping block as his father.

  He enjoyed the attention and was grateful for the diversions; lying abed as his pain lessened was tedious. He was floating somewhere between life and death.

  Every time the door opened, he hoped to see Faith’s smiling face. With her he felt fully alive and on the mend. His manhood never failed to stir at the sight of her—a pleasant relief. It seemed the bullet had done naught to interfere with his male urges. It was as well his sister-by-marriage made sure his loins were completely swathed in linens when Faith assisted her with cleansing his body.

  Once a day, Giles carefully turned him onto his side and pummeled his backside to get the blood flowing again after hours lying flat. He was tempted to suggest Faith take over the task, but doubted Sarah would agree.

  His beloved came often and stayed for long periods of time, even when he fell asleep, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. They reminisced about their adventure in the Isles, spoke fondly of the Laings and their kin, and wondered with great amusement about the fate of Galahad and Bluebell.

  However, there was one topic he was afraid to broach until he’d discussed it with Sarah. His opportunity came early one morning a fortnight after his injury. Giles had gone off in search of his breakfast.

  He began on safe ground. “Explain to me again what happens next.”

  Sarah eyed him. “I know you’re impatient to get out of bed,” she replied in her English brogue, “but we cannot remove the plaster until we’re certain the stitches are healing.”

  “I think they must be,” he replied. “Feels itchy.”

  “That’s a good sign,” she agreed. “Then we’ll replace the plaster with compresses steeped in vinegar and water.”

  He grimaced. “More vinegar.”

  She plumped up his pillow. “Don’t complain. It has helped deter inflammation.”

  He worried his bottom lip. He barely knew Sarah, yet there was no one else he could ask. “Will ye allow me out of bed then?”

  She frowned. “Perhaps to sit in a chair for a while, but not to walk at first.”

  This was the opening he sought. “Be honest with me, sister, when the time comes, will I…”

  He sat up straight when an unexpected lump rose in his throat. Faith deserved a man who was whole, not a cripple.

  “I see no reason why you shouldn’t walk again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He inhaled deeply as relief swept over him.

  “But I’ll be truthful with you, Gray. It’s likely you’ll walk with a limp.”

  He exhaled and lay back on the pillow. “I suspected as much. I thank ye for being forthright.”

  Sarah patted his hand. “Trust me. It will make no difference to Faith’s feelings.”

  Faith stared at the rise and fall of Gray’s chest as he slept. She savored the air of optimism pervading the house. Sarah had declared the stitches were healing when the plaster was removed from his thigh. She and Giles then proceeded to wrap compresses around the wound.

  Throughout the painful operation, Faith sensed Gray wanted to tell her something, but the laudanum had made him drowsy. She planned to coax his concerns out of him when he woke. She hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask Sarah’s opinion about Gray’s chances of being able to walk again. However, she had a volley of rebuttals prepared if it turned out he mistakenly thought a crippled man would make an unsuitable husband.

  She was surprised when Munro appeared in the chamber. “He’s asleep. Ye could come back later,” she explained.

  “I’ll sit with him for a while,” he replied. “Jewel would like to speak with ye in her solar.”

  Faith glanced quickly at Gray, her heart doing somersaults. She still wasn’t entirely sure what Jewel and her husband thought of their relationship. They might have decided a lass of dubious parentage wasn’t a suitable match for a nobleman’s son. She knew the earl and countess were on her side, but her status as Jewel and Garnet’s foster-daughter complicated matters. There was also the problem of Meaghan Guthrie and Jewel’s kinship with the lass’ mother.

  What would Gray’s reaction be if his sister opposed a marriage? Faith was confident he wouldn’t be deterred, but she didn’t want to be the reason for brother and sister to quarrel and perhaps damage their friendship irrevocably.

  She pecked a kiss on Gray’s forehead and slipped out of the chamber, gathering her courage for the confrontation she expected.

  Easily Replaced

  Faith’s courage faltered when she entered Jewel’s solar to find her foster parents deep in conversation with Quinn Guthrie. The last she’d heard of the man, he was on his way back to the capital along with the cohort escorting Argyll to his fate.

  Clearly, Meaghan was the first dragon she’d have to slay.

  The compliant Faith would have lowered her eyes in the face of Quinn’s steely gaze, but now she had something worth fighting for, and fight she would. “Mr. Guthrie,” she said demurely without bobbing a curtsey. “I thought ye’d gone to Edinburgh.”

  She was surprised when he took her hand and brushed a kiss on her knuckles. “Aye, there and back. A few remnants of Argyll’s army continue to evade the dragoons, although I wanted to bring the earl news of Cochrane’s capture.”

  He talked on about the details, but she only half listened, steeling her body for the moment he came to the point.

  “And I couldna travel to Ayrshire without conveying the thanks of the Privy Council to ye, Giles and Gray. The king owes ye a debt.”

  “I didna do it for the king,” she retorted.

  Quinn chuckled. “Nay, I understand. If and when the day comes for James to step down from the throne of these united kingdoms, we dinna want the blood of Scotsmen shed in the cause.”

  She nodded. He’d come close to uttering treason, but had rightly guessed one of her reasons for taking on the role of spy.

  “’Tis beyond regrettable young Gray wa
s wounded. I hear ye’ve been helping nurse him back to health.”

  She clenched her jaw, ready to launch her salvo. “Aye, he’s important to me.”

  Let him chew on that.

  She glanced at Jewel and Garnet, but their stern faces gave away nothing, so she decided to take the bull by the horns. “I ken yer daughter has a tendresse for him…”

  Quinn held up his hand. “’Tis true Gray and Meaghan were good friends, but…”

  Faith looked him in the eye and rushed on. “She’s a bairn. I love him.”

  Jewel folded her arms across her chest, but Faith refused to avert her gaze.

  Quinn smiled indulgently. “I was about to say Meaghan looks upon Gray more as an uncle. Beatris and I have another match in mind for her.”

  Garnet cleared his throat. “’Tis as well. Gray loves Faith, and ye dinna want yer daughter to wed a mon in love with another lass.”

  “Indeed,” Quinn laughed.

  Faith’s emotions were all at sea. She didn’t know what to do with the passionate arguments she’d prepared that still seethed in her gut. She latched on to Jewel’s broad smile and went into her foster mother’s embrace. “I thought…”

  “I ken,” Jewel whispered as Quinn made his way to the door.

  He paused on the threshold. “I’ll miss Gray. He’s a good mon, and I wish ye well, Faith Cameron. I love my daughter, but I doot she’d have the courage to take on a man with only one good leg.”

  “Quinn’s here,” Munro whispered.

  Gray thought he must have dreamt his brother’s voice. Quinn was in Edinburgh.

  “Are you well enough to speak with Mr. Guthrie, son?”

  He blinked open his eyes and accepted his father’s help to sit up. “Aye,” he replied, holding out a hand to his unexpected visitor.

  His mentor returned the handshake. “I’ve come to convey the thanks of the Privy Council for yer bravery. The powers that be extend their best wishes for a speedy recovery. We’ll miss ye in Edinburgh.”

  Gray rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the sleep from his brain. Hovering between life and death, he’d hadn’t given any thought to his future, except that it had to include Faith. On the other hand, he hadn’t really considered not returning to his post in Edinburgh. Clearly, Quinn had decided he was no longer capable of fulfilling his duties. “I havna had much chance to…”

  Quinn nodded. “Aye. Ye’re facing a long convalescence, but I’ve nay doot Faith will be with ye every step of the way.”

  Gray deemed it an unfortunate choice of words, since he’d yet to put any weight on his leg, but Quinn evidently knew about his relationship with Faith. “Er…I’m glad of the opportunity to talk to ye about Meaghan.”

  “Dinna fash. ’Tis clear ye and Faith Cameron are a good match. Meaghan thinks highly of the young man who’s taken over yer responsibilities. He’s lodging with us, ye ken. Beatris and I approve.”

  Gray bristled. While he’d fretted about offending the Guthries and breaking the lass’s heart, she’d been casting about for a new beau. Quinn had already replaced him in more ways than one.

  Their visitor shook the earl’s hand. “I fear I must away. Now Cochrane’s been captured…”

  “He’s been caught?” Gray asked, feeling completely left out of a campaign he and Faith and Giles had risked their lives for.

  “Hiding in his uncle’s house in Renfrew. I bid ye farewell. Dinna push yerself too hard, Gray,” he advised with a quick glance at the heavy bandages. “These things take time.”

  His father escorted Quinn out.

  Recognizing the dismay in Munro’s eyes, Gray clenched his jaw. “He obviously thinks I’ll never walk again and doesna want his daughter married to a cripple.”

  Smiling broadly, Faith breezed into Gray’s chamber. She always made a point of doing so, even if her spirits were low and her body exhausted. Now, she had reason to be happy. The obstacle of Meaghan had been removed without argument or rancor.

  Gray’s face normally brightened as soon as he saw her, but this day he sat propped up on a pillow, arms folded across his chest, his mood plainly sullen.

  Determined to cheer him, she pecked a kiss on his forehead. “I ken ’tis tedious to lie in bed for hours, but…”

  “Quinn Guthrie was here,” he replied curtly.

  She reasoned he must then be aware Meaghan was no longer a problem, yet he glowered. “Ye must be relieved his daughter…”

  “He’s decided I willna be returning to my post in Edinburgh.”

  They’d never discussed the future, beyond knowing they wanted to be together. She was suddenly entering uncharted territory. “Are ye disappointed?”

  He inhaled deeply. “I dinna ken, to be honest. I enjoyed my work there.”

  “Is it because of me?” she asked. “I’d gladly follow ye anywhere. If ye want to go back to Edinburgh, he’ll mayhap reconsider once…”

  He shook his head and looked her in the eye. “Nay. He doesna think a cripple will…”

  “Stop,” she exclaimed. “I canna believe he said such a thing.”

  “He didna say it in so many words, but…”

  A malevolent thought popped into her brain. Quinn Guthrie didn’t want his daughter to marry a cripple. Her loss. “Having one leg that mayhap doesna work as well as the other doesna make ye less capable. Yer wound is a badge of honor.”

  He glared. “So, ye’re also of the opinion I’ll never walk properly again.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, forced his arms away from his chest and meshed her fingers with his. “I canna predict what the future holds, Gray, but I give ye my word I’ll do everything in my power to help ye heal.”

  He averted his eyes. “I’m afraid, Faith. What if…”

  The lass who’d been a cipher most of her life unexpectedly held awesome power. A brave man had allowed her to see his vulnerability. His trust would give her the strength to help him bear whatever difficulties lay ahead. She climbed on the bed and put her arm across his body. “Do ye love me?” she asked.

  “More than life,” he replied, stroking her hair.

  “’Tis all that matters.”

  A Proper Scot

  Weary of fretting about his future ability to walk, Gray persuaded Sarah to lessen the doses of laudanum. Assuring her the pain had eased wasn’t a total lie. At best, the damaged muscles throbbed with a deep, dull ache.

  When he and Faith were alone in the chamber, he insisted on sitting up on the edge of the bed from time to time and letting his legs dangle freely. He fisted his hands into the mattress and lifted himself in an effort to alleviate the pressure. Faith scolded as she rubbed his back, but he knew she wouldn’t betray him to Sarah and the ever-vigilant Giles. “The sooner I’m back on my feet,” he argued, “the sooner we can be wed.”

  Sarah and Giles had a habit of entering without knocking, so the lovers were careful when they indulged in more pleasant activities.

  Gray longed to put his mouth on Faith’s pouting nipples, but had to content himself with nuzzling his nose into her tempting globes. They lay clasped together, listening to each other breathing, his hand cupping her bottom, her mons pressed against his swollen shaft.

  It was heavenly torture with the linens always wedged between them.

  One afternoon, Sarah and Giles caught them dozing in each other’s arms. Faith blushed fiercely and scrambled off the bed, babbling excuses.

  “I think you’re well enough to try a few steps,” Sarah said with a knowing smile that told them they weren’t fooling anyone.

  Still grinning, Giles stood beside the bed and helped Gray sit up. “Swing yer legs over the edge,” he said.

  Gray easily managed the task.

  “Good,” Sarah exclaimed.

  Gray smiled at Faith. Their shared secret made the prospect of getting out of bed even more exciting.

  Giles bent his knees. “Put yer arm around my shoulders and we’ll try to get ye on yer feet.”

  “You should take his othe
r side, Faith,” Sarah suggested.

  Gray did as he was told, took a deep breath and hefted his arse off the bed, gripping the hands of his human crutches. His brain told him to put the foot of his injured leg on the carpeted floor, but the limb seemed to have a mind of its own.

  Suddenly, he was dizzy and sweating.

  “Take yer time,” Giles said.

  “Suppose it refuses to take my weight,” he replied, feeling like a timid bairn taking his first steps.

  “We willna let ye fall,” Faith assured him. “Ye canna expect miracles right away.”

  He put both feet on the carpet, gritting his teeth when pain flared from his toes to his groin. He managed to hobble three excruciatingly slow steps before Sarah insisted he return to his bed. He slumped back on the pillows feeling like he’d run a mile.

  “That was humiliating,” he muttered.

  “Nay, ’twas excellent,” Faith replied. “A wee bit each day, and ye’ll soon be chasing me across the meadow.”

  He wasn’t as optimistic and wondered gloomily how long it would be before she too lost hope.

  After ten days, Faith was elated by Gray’s progress. He needed help getting downstairs, but was able to make his way slowly around the house with only a staff for support. His father had been pleased to lend him his intricately carved white pine staff—a parting gift from Murtagh when he’d returned to the Highlands. The family’s long-time retainer had fashioned the wooden knot atop the handle as a symbol of the unbreakable friendship between him and the Pendrays.

  Gray, however, didn’t share her delight, frustrated by the pronounced limp that dogged him. She sensed the loss of his prestigious position in Edinburgh also had a lot to do with his uncharacteristic moodiness.

  They were standing in the gallery, looking out at the gardens and beyond to the meadows. “Ye’re very handsome in yer great kilt and knee socks,” she gushed. “Like a proper Scot. I think ye’re ready for another milestone.”