“The rains are coming again and he will need shelter, Dougal. At least until he wakes.” She tried to soften her voice so it did not sound like an order, but she knew it did. And she did not care. “If he wakes.”
All three men paled at her words. Dougal took them aside to talk amongst themselves and she knelt at Jamie’s side, holding his battered hand in hers. Niall walked away first and then Dougal returned to her.
“Niall is going to the village. There was an unused cottage there and he will make arrangements. Since these people pay their rents to the MacLerie, it should be easy to arrange.”
“My thanks, Dougal,” she said. Then she watched as he frowned and stared at her as though trying to decipher a puzzle.
He did not try to move her from her place next to Jamie, so she remained there, watching him closely for any sign of waking. Each hour that passed with him asleep brought the danger closer. He could not die because of her. Because of her brother’s need to settle a score. Because of her past indiscretions.
Sometime much later, Elizabeth’s stomach grumbled, reminding her of how much time had passed since her last meal. Though she did not want to leave his side, she climbed to her feet and walked to where they’d piled all the bags from the horses. Finding the right sack, she found the leftover oatcakes, quail, cheese and bread. She kept one oatcake and gave the rest to Dougal and Shaw.
She leapt up at the sound of Niall’s return. When she stood and saw that his horse now pulled a wooden cart behind it, she thought there was some hope for Jamie. Niall drove the horse into the clearing and held onto the reins while Dougal and Shaw lifted Jamie and placed him in the back. When they tossed the bags in, she arranged a couple of them under Jamie’s head to absorb most of the bumpiness of the rough road on the way back to the village.
The small cottage sat just before the village, farther into the forest so it was not easily seen from the road. Niall turned the horse down a small, almost-hidden path and it appeared after a few minutes. Trying to keep her bearings, Elizabeth thought it might have been about a quarter mile. Niall helped her down from the bench of the cart and she went to see what the cottage looked like inside. The winds whipped her hair loose and she had to gather it in her hands to keep it out of her face. She leaned down to enter through the lower door.
Not as tiny as the shieling, but not very big, the cottage had three rooms—one main living area with a hearth built into one wall, another smaller, windowless room suitable as a storage room and one bedroom, this with one small window high in the back wall. Escape would be impossible from this cottage, which from his smile, Dougal must have realized at the same moment she had.
The good thing was that it was clean, with no rodents or other creatures hiding in it as usually happened with unused crofts. And, as the skies opened and the rains poured down, it did not leak. She’d managed to make a pallet out of some blankets on the floor of the storage chamber for Jamie, and Niall and Shaw carried him inside just as the storm began.
The men also brought in supplies and foodstuffs, a small keg of whisky and another of ale. From the looks of it, Dougal took Jamie’s injuries seriously and understood it could be days before he could travel.
“I borrowed what I could and bought some. The innkeeper provided me with a griddle pan and some pots and plates. They recognized me as the earl’s man and said he would get whatever we needed,” Niall explained as he set out the goods he’d returned with. “We can return everything when we leave and pay for what we use.”
She walked into the smallest room and checked on Jamie before beginning to organize the food and supplies in the cooking area. He lay unmoving as before and seemed no worse for the short, though bumpy journey here. Her brother and the others would expect her to cook while they stayed here. Elizabeth wondered if Dougal yet remembered how badly she cooked.
The rains continued through the rest of the day. The innkeeper had sent along another quail, so she boiled it to make broth for him and the others would eat the rest of it. Tempted to cook the way she had at home to hide her skills, she decided against it. So, she made simple foods to feed them.
The day passed slowly for her. She spent most of her time sitting with Jamie, hoping that he would wake so she could explain things to him. The earl knew the truth about her past and would certainly not force Jamie into a marriage knowing that. If nothing else, she had decided to plead that to the earl when they returned and hopefully Connor would be content banishing her from Lairig Dubh and returning Jamie to face his parents’ wrath.
That night she and Dougal shared the bedchamber, with Dougal sleeping across the place in front of the door. Niall and Shaw slept in the main room. Elizabeth prayed for many things that night, but mostly she prayed that Jamie would wake up.
Darkness and agony swirled around him, making it impossible for him to see anything. He struggled against it, fighting his way through the waves of pain only to face more. His body hurt, his head hurt, but worse was the anguish that pierced his heart when he remembered how he’d treated Elizabeth.
Her eyes, carrying that secret shame deep within them, pleading with him for understanding. And he failed her. He professed his love and ignored his pride. He needed to tell her.
Elizabeth! He tried to call to her but she faded away.
He would never let her go. He would never let her face her family, the laird, and be subjected to censure of any kind. She was his.
Her voice echoed in his head then and he pushed his way to reach her. But no matter what he did, he could not seem to make her hear him. Over and over, hour after hour, he called for her. Her touch on his hand or his arm or his head soothed him. When he tried to reach for her, his body would not do what he wanted. His eyes would not even open so he could see her.
Had Dougal hurt her? Had he punished her for his sins?
With all his might, against the terrible wall of pain, he pushed, trying to get a sound through to her. Then exhausted, he fell back into the black depths of unconsciousness.
His last thought was for her, a prayer that she would forgive him for failing her so badly.
Chapter Ten
At first, she thought she was dreaming or imagining it.
Elizabeth moved the tallow candle closer and watched carefully, but now there was no sign of movement. Two days and nights had passed and he remained deeply unconscious. Dougal even sent for one of the old women of the village, one who had some skills in healing and treating the sick, but she said she could do nothing more for him.
Head injuries, she whispered to Dougal believing Elizabeth could not hear her, were the least predictable of all. But, she warned him that this deep sleep was lasting too long and not a good sign. With a promise to visit again in a few days and after leaving a few potions and concoctions behind in case she had need of them, the old woman waddled her way along the road back to the village, refusing any attempt to take her by cart.
As had become her practice these last few days, Elizabeth sat at his side and spoke quietly to him. Most times she simply repeated prayers so that he could hear them. Other times, she told him of her childhood and good stories about Dougal so he would know her brother was not just an evil person. And sometimes, when the men were outside the cottage, she spoke of her love for him and her failures.
But mostly, she prayed she would have a chance to make things right between them.
