Highland Sword. Ruth Langan

a goblet of ale in his hands.

      He paused to stare at her, and she felt as though she were staring down the devil himself. Such anger there. Such darkness.

      He drained his goblet, then resumed his pacing.

      It was then she noticed that his cousins, Mordred and Desmond, had also remained. Both men were seated in the shadows, their gazes narrowed on her with fierce concentration. Perhaps they thought to protect the lord from the wicked witch.

      This was, she feared, going to prove to be a very long night. And with each passing minute, she could feel her strength ebbing.

      Chapter Three

      Allegra was grateful that the others had finally vacated the lad’s chambers. Now her only distraction was Merrick MacAndrew, who hovered over her like an avenging angel.

      She ground the willow bark into a fine powder, then sprinkled it into a goblet of water before holding it to the lad’s lips.

      At once Merrick was beside her, clamping a hand on her wrist. “Hold, woman. What is this thing you give my son?”

      “A potion for the fever.”

      “Before it passes his lips, you will taste it.”

      She was already shaking her head. “I have no need…”

      His fingers tightened on her flesh. “I said, you’re to drink first.”

      “Very well.” She took a taste. “And now will you waste precious hours waiting to see if I die, before allowing me to minister to the lad?”

      Merrick’s frustration came out in a hiss of breath. “Enough of your insolence, woman. See to him.”

      Very gently she held the goblet to the boy’s lips and watched with satisfaction until it was empty. Then she turned her attention to the balm and wood anemone, grinding each into powder.

      With each twist of her hand, as she worked mortar and pestle, she could feel her strength being drained.

      Merrick studied the concoctions with a wary look. “What do you hope to do with these weeds?”

      “They are herbs. Wood anemone alleviates swelling. As for the sweet balm, I’ll use it to help the lad sort through his thoughts. He seems confused.”

      Merrick’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve read his thoughts?”

      “That is not my gift. But there are a few thoughts mingled with the pain, which I can discern. Perhaps it is the blow to the head, or perhaps there is something that is still causing him such fear, it blocks all else, even the healing.”

      Merrick’s voice lowered with feeling. “Can he hear my voice?”

      For the first time since encountering this angry man, Allegra saw a glimmer of the depth of his pain, something he’d managed to keep from her until now. “I know not. Who can say what those on the other side can hear?”

      “The other side?” He blanched. “Is he dead, then?”

      “Nay, my lord.” Seeing his pallor, Allegra was quick to explain. “He is not dead, but he has slipped far away from this life.”

      “Why?” The word came out in a croak of misery.

      “Some go there because it is a place of healing. Others go to prepare themselves for a life far different from the one they know here.”

      “You’ll not let him go, do you understand?” Again his fingers tightened on her wrist, and she felt the mixture of anger and frustration pulsing through him. “Cast a spell, or do whatever it takes to keep him with me. If you fail, woman, you know what will happen.”

      “Aye.” She snatched her hand away. “You’ve made that perfectly clear, my lord. Now I suggest you tend to your son.”

      “Tend him? How?”

      “Speak to him, as a father speaks to his son. Call to him. Let him know you are here, waiting to welcome him back from his sojourn to that other place. Urge him to come back to you.”

      For a moment Merrick merely glowered at her. Then, putting aside his anger at the woman, he knelt beside the bed and touched a hand to the lad’s forehead.

      His voice, when he finally spoke, vibrated with feeling. “Hamish, lad. I’m here now. Nothing can harm you, son. Nothing. Let go of your fears and come back to me. Please, Hamish. I need you here with me. You’re all I have in this world now.”

      Allegra stood to one side, watching and listening in amazement. When Merrick MacAndrew spoke to his son, he became a different man. The brute who would force his will on others disappeared beneath the guise of a loving father. But she sensed that this was no mere playacting. The love this man felt for his son was a living, palpable thing.

      Still, she would do well to remember that this was no gentle lord, but a coarse brute. And she had the bruises to prove it.

      Shivering, she walked to the fire and stood with hands outstretched. But even this close, the warmth eluded her. The dizzy feeling that had come over her when she’d touched the lad was with her still. She felt light as air. As though, unless she anchored herself, she would float clear up to the rough wooden beams of the ceiling.

      She took hold of the back of a chair and went very still, struggling to keep her wits about her. But now there was a strange buzzing in her head, and little stars began floating in front of her eyes. Bright they were, and giving off sparks that blinded her. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

      As if from a great distance she heard the lord’s voice calling to her. “What are you about now, woman? I’ll have none of your tricks. Come here and see to my son.”

      She wanted to answer him. But though she opened her mouth, no words came out. Instead, the room went suddenly dark. She felt herself tumbling down into a deep, black abyss.

      Strong arms caught and held her before she could fall to the floor. She felt herself being lifted and cradled against a solid wall of chest. She had not the strength to lift so much as a hand in her defense as she was lowered to a pallet.

      There were voices. So many voices around her, and all of them babbling.

      The high-pitched voice of the housekeeper. “Well, m’lord, no wonder the poor lass fainted. How long has it been since you fed her?”

      The impatient tone of her captor cut through. “There was no time for food, Mistress MacDonald.”

      “No time for food? And what about dry clothes?” Something tugged on Allegra’s boots, and she felt warm fingers rolling away her cold, wet stockings. “Look at her. Soaked to the skin. Ye must leave now, m’lord. ’Twouldn’t be proper for ye to stay here while I strip away her clothes and wrap her in dry linen.”

      “I have no intention of letting this woman out of my sight until Hamish is healed.”

      A long, deep sigh, and then the resigned notes of the housekeeper. “Very well, m’lord. But to preserve her modesty, ye will walk to the balcony until I’ve dressed her in a dry night shift.”

      Allegra heard the sounds of booted feet storming across the room, and then the soft rustling as the housekeeper began removing her wet gown and undergarments.

      When Allegra’s eyes opened the old woman took a step back, her face registering shock, then fear, then resignation. Pressing her lips together, she returned to the bedside, determined to complete her task.

      Allegra touched a hand to her head. “I’ve never…fainted before.”

      “Ye’ve no doubt never gone this long without eating before, I’ll wager. I’ve sent a serving wench to fetch some broth and biscuits.”

      “Thank you, Mistress MacDonald.”

      The housekeeper’s lips curved into a lopsided