Fingers that had always been ready to pluck up pretty stones lay lifeless on the coverlet. Still, there had been times the small bow-shaped lips had seemed to struggle to form the words that grief had stolen from the child for so long.
Yet though Ash had driven herself nearly insane trying to make out what the child was saying, she could discern nothing but whimpers and groans and pathetic, choked sobs.
Ash crooned to her, bits of stories, every lullaby she had ever known, humming snippets of tunes when her own mind was too bleary to remember the words. She had spooned countless dribbles of broth between the child's pale lips, pleading with the steadily weakening girl to swallow.
And during those rare moments when Meggie slipped into a heavy, fever-tortured sleep Ashleen had turned to stare wearily down at the wagon, feeling as if she and Meggie were marooned upon some vast deserted island.
At first there had been nothing but an ominous quiet clinging to what had been the most boisterous of campsites. Even the children's voices had been so hushed that Ash had been able to hear nothing except the rumblings of her own self-reproach. She had been eaten alive with guilt—guilt at having been twined, naked in Garret's arms while Meggie had lain sick, guilt at leaving the other children, guilt at thrusting her responsibilities on Garret.
Yet after a while she had caught the barest hints of Liam's piping voice, then Shevonne's mingling with Garret's gruff one. And when at long last she had heard something that might well have been a strained laugh, the coils of guilt choking her eased a little.
Eased until she had glanced down at where the livestock was picketed and had seen Renny perched there on a boulder, the waves of sullenness rippling off of him as palpable as the feel of a coming storm.
She had gritted her teeth, knowing that there was nothing she could do—not for Renny, not for Garret or the others, not even for Meggie, save wait and pray.
Her only contact with the others had been through Garret's brief visits—those times he brought up kettles full of broth, fresh water for Meggie, or platefuls of food that Ashleen had no will to eat.
After the first time he had discovered her plate untouched he had made it a habit to stand over her like some palace guard, making certain each forkful of food disappeared into her mouth.
When she had been so foolhardy as to object he had gotten that stubborn look in his eyes. "Who the hell do you think is going to take care of everything if you go and get sick, too?" he had demanded. "You're pale as a goddamned ghost yourself."
Then he had softened his words by touching her cheek gently, so gently, and she had seen the very real fear in his eyes.
I love you... what the hell are we going to do about it?
The words he had spoken after their loving had echoed through her, wrenchingly bittersweet. She had wanted to bury her face against his chest, to feel him hold her, to cry out all her terror, all her hurt, the despair suffocating her.
But she had only torn her gaze away from that worry-lined, handsome face and the belligerent, painfully vulnerable love in those wolf-gray eyes. And for the first time in her life Ashleen O'Shea tasted the dregs of despair. There was nothing they could do about the love that had sprung so rich, so wondrous between them. Nothing they could do to catch it, hold it forever.
For even if some miracle enabled them to work through the pain in Garret's heart, there would be the children yet to deal with—Liam, Shevonne, Meggie, but most of all Renny, with his anguish and his temper, teetering on the brink of what he deemed her betrayal.
Meggie whimpered, restless, her arms tightening about the raggedy doll she held tucked beneath her small chin, and for once Ash was grateful for the distraction.
She ran her fingertips over the beloved toy, her throat swelling with unshed tears. Pain. Why did there have to be so much pain? Ireland and America seemed the same suddenly, at the mercy of fates that were more often cruel than kind.
She blinked back tears, Garret and Renny's faces fading into thoughts of the last time she had battled fever beside this small child—how then, too, the little girl had clung to the single small well of security bundled up in the faded cloth plaything.
Wasn't that what Renny was doing as well? Clinging to her—Ashleen—with the same possessiveness, the same ferocity as Meggie did her doll?
He had had so little in his life, had been so often swept up by things that were not his fault, things he didn't understand, couldn't understand.
Like the love between a man and a woman. And how that could never change the love Ashleen had for him.
"You look like hell." The voice at her shoulder made Ashleen start, and she angled a glance up to find Garret standing near her, his lips compressed, lines carving between his brows.
Trying to muster a smile and failing, Ash brushed the straggly web of her hair from her face. "No wonder all the women you know shove you into horse troughs."
No flicker of amusement lightened his eyes as he hunkered down, not checking Meggie, but rather skimming his palm over Ashleen's own forehead.
"No fever. Yet. It’s a miracle." He turned, leaning over Meggie, caressing her small cheek. "How's half-pint doing?"
"I don't know." Ash heard the quaver in her own voice. "Nothing seems to help. It's as if I can see her—her very life ebbing away, and there's nothing I can do to stop it."
The misery that had tormented Ashleen for days welled up inside her until the words came out in a choked little sob. "Garret, I'm so afraid."
He curled long legs beneath him, taking her into his arms. And when his big hand urged her head against the wall of his chest, she hadn't the will to resist. His lips were against her hair, warm, comforting, his voice like rough velvet. "I'm terrified, too, lady. But we're not going to lose her. Damn it to hell, we're not."
Ash clung to him, shameful tears dampening his shirt as sobs shook her, and she hated herself for not being certain if she cried because of the child she so adored, or for the man who would one day slip from her life forever.
