Aileen took a breath to steady herself. ‘Will you help me?’
A warm smile tipped at the healer’s mouth. Illona held out a bundle of dried elder flowers. ‘You may have need of these.’
It was as though the burden of responsibility slipped from her, to be shared with another person. In the past, she’d tried to shoulder every illness alone. Pride had kept her from seeking help.
But now, she watched while Illona prepared the brew, grateful to have another pair of hands. After tying off the stitches, she covered the slash on his forearm with a linen bandage.
Illona handed her a cup of cooled elder flower tea. Aileen lifted Connor’s head to drink. The liquid dribbled down the side of his mouth, and she struggled to get him to swallow.
When a second effort proved fruitless, she tried another tack. She took the liquid into her own mouth and pressed her mouth against his. Slowly, in the most intimate way, she forced him to drink it.
The touch of his lips beneath hers reminded her of the night she’d spent in his arms. Like a man who did not want to be kissed, his mouth did not respond to hers. Though she continued to help him drink, her fears intensified.
‘We can only wait now,’ the healer advised. ‘You have done all you can.’
This was the part Aileen dreaded, surrendering control to fate. She did not let him lie alone upon the pallet, but instead she rested Connor’s head in her lap, her back supported against the wall.
Outside the window, the sky had turned black. No stars dotted the midnight sky, and Aileen wondered how long she’d been with him. It seemed like only moments, and yet Rhiannon’s eyelids drooped.
‘Go to sleep,a iníon,’ she urged. ‘I’ll stay awake with him.’ At the questioning look in the healer’s eyes, Aileen added, ‘I would like to be alone with him for a time.’
‘I will be just beyond the door,’ Illona replied, leaving them.
‘He fought bravely,’ Rhiannon said. ‘Even with his broken hands.’
‘He did. You should be proud to have him as your father.’
A worried expression wrinkled across Rhiannon’s mouth. ‘I still think of Eachan as my father.’
‘He was, sweeting. In every way, save blood.’ She offered a tender smile. ‘Not every girl is blessed to have more than one father.’
Rhiannon sat beside her, and took Connor’s malformed right hand in hers. ‘He is a stranger to me.’
‘But you gave him strength. Did you not see how much you helped him? It did him good to see you there.’ Aileen was grateful to Bevan for fetching her, though she had worried about Rhiannon’s safety.
Aileen covered Rhiannon’s hand with her own, the two of them seated with Connor in the middle. A sense of rightness encircled her heart, being here with those she loved most.
Hours passed and her throat grew dry. Rhiannon curled up beside Connor and slept. Aileen held Connor, her back aching and limbs sore from the position. But she could not let him face this struggle alone.
Perspiration beaded across his forehead, pain etched in the lines across his mouth. Aileen kept wiping his brow, speaking to him in low tones.
Then when the darkness faded into the deep grey of morning, Connor began to tremble. With great effort, his eyes opened.
‘I’m here,’ she whispered to him. Though she tried to cool his burning skin with her hands, inwardly she knew it could do nothing for him.
‘Am I dead?’ he asked. When she shook her head, his mouth tried to curve upward. ‘This was not what I intended when I dreamed of waking in your arms.’
She helped lift him up until she could face him. His eyes held the sheen of fever, his body struggling to regain its control. ‘My arm hurts.’
Aileen lifted the bandage, but there was no sign of swelling. The wound was clean, neatly stitched closed. But if he was in pain, perhaps she should treat it again.
‘I’ll make a wash for it,’ she said, easing him back on to the pallet. The marigold roots or perhaps iris. Her mind raced with every cure she could think of, or perhaps Illona Ó Banníon knew more. She would ask.
‘Don’t go,’ he said, reaching for her. ‘If I’m to die, this is where I’d like to be.’ He tilted his head. ‘Of course, the best death would be to die with you naked beneath me.’
Aileen’s cheeks flamed and she glanced at her daughter sleeping. ‘You aren’t going to die.’
‘I might,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you should take me somewhere that I could have my last wish. I’m afraid you would have to be on top, as I am in a delicate condition right now.’
