But she did not sleep. She dozed in fits and starts for hours, but mostly she lay awake listening for the sound of his breathing. And when he began to snore lightly for a short time, Cicely thought it was the best sound she had ever heard. As the night waned Ian began to moan with his pain, for the poppy was wearing off. Cicely got up and saw that both of his wounds were oozing through the bandages. What should she do? Blessed Mother, why had she not listened and learned from her foster parent?
“Water,” Ian croaked.
Cicely stumbled across the chamber and poured some water from the pitcher into a small goblet. Hurrying to her husband’s side, she braced him while she put the goblet to his lips. “Is that better?” she asked him as he sipped.
“Aye,” he said huskily. “I was parched.”
“Do you hurt?” she asked shyly.
“Aye, but ’twill ease with another of Mab’s soothing drafts,” he said.
“It isn’t even dawn yet,” Cicely told him.
“Marion and her bairns?”
“She’s devastated, but the wee ones don’t know what’s going on at all. They’re so young it’s not likely they’ll remember their da—more’s the pity, for Fergus was a brave man, and a good one,” Cicely said quietly.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“Of course,” she replied.
“This has not disturbed the bairn you carry?”
“Obviously it hasn’t,” Cicely replied. She had been so worried over Ian she had forgotten entirely that she was with child. “Ian, I am sorry I did not know what to do when you were wounded,” she said.“I never thought to be in a place where my husband could be injured. Mab has promised to teach me what I must know.”
He laughed weakly. “You’d have been in worse difficulties if you had wed Gordon. The Highlands bubble constantly with clan disputes, more so in the north and west, but also in the eastern regions. Only the Grahames would have been so dishonorable as to send a flight of arrows at a group of unarmed men. You understand why I had to go after them, ladyfaire, don’t you? It is important that you comprehend.”
Cicely nodded. “It will be some time before the Grahames, or any of their ilk, consider attacking Glengorm. There was no choice but to go after them, Ian. I know it. Even if poor Fergus hadn’t been killed you would have had to chase after them and punish them. Had you not we would have been vulnerable to attack from all and sundry. Word of the carrion birds hanging above the moor and hills will travel quickly. The Grahames will regret their boldness, and all in the borders will know of it. Glengorm will be the safer for it. Aye, my lord, I understand now what I did not before.”
“Good,” he replied. “Should the day ever come that I am gone from Glengorm and it is attacked, I can rest easy knowing you will be able to mount its defense and attack our attackers. Our son will have to depend upon you if I am not here.”
“Do not speak such words to me, my lord. You will be here for Glengorm, for me, and for our child.” Cicely leaned over and kissed him softly and gently.
“Our son,” he said, kissing her back.
“Or our daughter,” she returned.
“Or our daughter,” he agreed with her, smiling.
Chapter 12
Jan’schest wound healed quickly, but his right arm was stiff now. Mab taught her lady the use of herbs, like lavender for sleep, and comfrey for healing bruises and knitting bones back together. She showed Cicely how to mix powders and poultices, and how to make pills. Cicely learned how to examine a patient for a broken or dislocated bone. How to bind such injuries.
There was another lack in her education she now had to make up. She began to learn about how to defend the house should they be attacked. The captain of their men-at-arms was a burly, baldheaded Douglas man named Frang. At first he was loath to discuss defense with Cicely. She was, after all, English born.
“I am capable of keeping the house safe,” he told her.
“But what if you were away?” Cicely asked him in dulcet tones. “You could come back to find the house burned, and the rest of us dead or carried off. You must teach me what I need to know should you and the laird not be here, Frang. I know I may rely upon you at all times, but if I could not keep my own house and servants safe from attack I should be a poor border wife.” She gave him a small smile. “I would make my lord proud of me. You know he has not been well.”
Frang looked at the dainty English girl with her swelling belly. And then he looked across the hall to where his laird sat pale and still weak by the hearth, a wool coverlet about his knees like an oldwoman. He nodded. “I will teach you what you need to know, my lady, though it’s unlikely I’ll be away anytime soon.”
“Thank you,” Cicely said softly. She had seen where Frang’s eyes had gone as he considered his decision. Ian still wasn’t well, and he was as weak as a kitten. The wound in his chest had finally healed, but the one in his lower shoulder was troublesome. Mab was at her wits end, for just when this second wound appeared to finally be cured it would suddenly fill with green matter again, which would sometimes turn yellow and be streaked with blood. And each time Ian Douglas grew weaker. Finally one morning he was unable to get out of bed.
“I’m dying,” he told Cicely in a resigned voice.
“Do not say it!” she almost shouted at him, and the child in her belly seemed to jump at the sound of her frightened voice. “You cannot die, Ian Douglas.”
“The wound won’t heal. I don’t know why, and neither does Mab,” he said.
