Chapter 21
“Turn your back, Father, I’ll be gettin' dressed now.”
Father William’s eyes bulged open wide. Shock hiked his thinning brows to the highest point possible upon his shining pate. “Ye shall do no such a thing! Just awakened from days spent on death’s edge? Ye must stay abed.”
She moved to sit up and a gasp escaped her. Hand clasping her bandaged side, she cringed and bit the corner of her lip to keep from crying out as her body protested with excruciating jolts of pain.
“Ye see?” he said, shaking a finger at her and darting back and forth between the foot of the bed and her side like a wee squirrel scurrying for buried nuts. “Ye’ll no' be tricking me the way ye did Sawny. Poor lad. Ye should be ashamed of yourself. The guilt ye rained down upon his young soul. Worried near sick about ye, I grant ye!”
That couldna be helped. She'd had to do what she’d done and given the chance, would do the same again. Granted, it had no' turned out quite as planned but she still didna regret doing her best to defend her husband. She’d never be a woman who cowered. She’d fight at her husband’s side even if it meant her death. Someday young Sawny would understand.
“Turn your back or no', Father. Either way, dressed I shall be and going to my husband’s side.” She swallowed hard and steadied herself with deep breaths and slow exhales to calm the nausea churning in her stomach and tamp down the bile burning at the back of her throat.I can do this. I'm no’ some delicate lily in need of shielding.Inch by inch, she scooted herself to sit on the edge of the bed then held fast to the bedside table until her head stopped spinning. She wished she could wash and remove the smelly bandages soaked with Elena’s poultice but she feared she might cause the wounds to reopen and bleed again. “Hand me a clean shift, Father.”
“I will not.” Father William stood with his back to her, his nose lifted into the air.
“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll get it myself.”
“Stay there! I’ll get it.” Father William stole a glance back at her then stomped his foot. Returning to the bedside with her clothes, he fixed her with a fierce scowl. “If your stubborn arse hits the floor, ye’ll set your wounds to bleeding for certain. Ye ken that, aye?”
Taking great care to keep his eyes averted, the priest first helped her with her shift then shook out a loose wool overdress that was more a body length apron than a gown. The garment was made to slide down over her head and tie underneath her arms at the sides. It was what she wore when the day’s chores were certain to be a danger to her good clothes. He held it up for her approval. “Ye can wear this over your shift to keep ye decent. It willna rub your wounds as the waist of a skirt would.”
“Good idea, Father.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out as she lifted her arms and struggled her way into the clothing. Clutching hold of Father William’s arm, she eased her feet to the floor and stood. “Sweet Jesu,” she swore under her breath.
"I heard that," Father William said as he held tight to her arm to keep her from collapsing to the floor. "Weak as a newborn kitten, ye are. Will ye no' see sense?"
“I’ll be fine,” she said more to herself than to him. “Now help me with the overdress. I think I can stand whilst ye put it over my head.”
“Áve María, grátia pléna, Dóminus técum. Benedícta tu in muliéribus, et benedíctus frúctus véntris túi, Iésus.Sancta Maria, Máter Déi, óra pro nóbis peccatóribus, nunc et in hóra mórtis nóstrae. Ámen.”Father William repeated the Hail Mary in a sing-song voice, over and over, as he helped her into the heavy length of wool and allowed it to tumble down her body.
Orbs of flashing lights filled her gaze as she attempted to stand straighter. She grabbed hold of the priest’s shoulders and held tight. Father William gave her a displeased look but didn’t say a word.
“Tie the ties, Father. The longer I stand, the stronger I feel.” God forgive her for lying to the priest but she had to get through this.
Father William rolled his eyes as he tied the laces loose on either side of the garment to grant her plenty of room for movement. “Ten Hail Mary's for your lie and a day of serving the poor, aye?”
“Aye, Father.” Catriona took in a deep breath and released her hold on him, forcing her body to stand and balance itself. A wave of lightheadedness pushed her back down to the edge of the bed. She’d forgotten the last time she’d eaten and that paired with blood loss had taken its toll. Her body’s weaknesses refused to be ignored. “Dammit!”
“Child!”
“I have to get to the skirting wall. I have to be with Alexander.” Her eyes stung with the threat of tears.
Father William scowled at her for a long moment, his thin brows wrinkling clear up to the wispy fringes of hair surrounding his bald head. “Alexander will have me crucified for what I’m about to do but I dinna have it in me heart to refuse ye.”
“I shall name our first son William,” Catriona promised, still struggling to control her ragged breathing and not pass out.
Father William paused at the door, “William Anthony Carmichael McBride, aye?”
“Aye, Father.” Catriona closed her eyes. Father William’s demeanor lightened her heart and made her burdens so much easier to bear. She made a mental note to ask the priest to stay at the keep. Clan Neal needed someone to guide their souls.
A short time later, the bedroom door creaked, prompting her to open her eyes. Father William was backing through the door, directing two sturdy lads as they brought an upholstered, straight-backed chair into the room.
Once they were well inside the room, the boys turned the chair and placed its back against the side of the bed. The taller of the two, the one called Mathy, gave a shy, polite dip of his chin in Catriona’s direction then looked to the priest. “Good enough, Father?”
Father William studied the door then looked at the chair. “Aye, lad. Good enough.” He hurried over to the great mahogany wardrobe filling one corner of the room and fetched Catriona’s warmest cloak. “If ye find the strength and ye are still determined to do so, let’s don your cloak and get ye seated.”
“I can never thank ye enough for this, Father.” With the help of the two lads, Catriona teetered to her feet, allowed the priest to drape her cloak around her, and help her walk to the chair.
Father William held tight to her arms as she held her breath against the pain and lowered herself to the seat. “If ye have a girl child, I wish her named Willa Antonia Catherine McBride, aye?”
