Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Arabella?’
She threw her arms around her head and tried to shield herself from the horrible screaming.
‘Arabella, love,’ he said again.
‘Shh,’ she urged but then that noise shook inside her head, too.
‘Drink this.’ Someone lifted her head and touched a cup to her lips. ‘Just a sip.’
Cold water. It tasted so good to her parched mouth that she wanted more. And she would have had more if the cup had not disappeared.
‘You must try to open your eyes and wake now.’
It was Brodie’s voice she heard and she wanted to see him, but the confusion and dizziness still assailed her terribly. She fell back into the stupor and knew nothing.
* * *
Until she did.
Surrounded by heat, she opened her eyes and found herself in a large bed, with Brodie curled around her. She lifted her head slowly and discovered the light-headedness was dissipating. If she moved a little bit at a time, she could turn her head.
He lay there, his bandaged hand and arm draped over her hip. She wore garments as did he, which she discovered when she pushed herself around to face him.
He looked terrible! She’d thought the potion Caelan had forced into her had caused her to see such a distorted version of his face, but now she could see it clearly. His one eye was swollen shut and his nose was puffed up and bruised badly. Though some had been dressed, she could count more than five gashes on his face and neck.
Then, searching back through those strange visions, she realised what had happened.
‘Caelan?’ she asked, already knowing he must be dead.
‘Your father saw to his end.’ She shivered, knowing it was better that she had not witnessed her father taking revenge for her brother’s life.
‘So you did go to my father for help.’
He opened the one eye that would and nodded. ‘Aye.’
‘And this was his help?’ Her father was a hard man, but this was...
‘This was when he believed I had killed Malcolm.’
‘The potion. Caelan said he’d used too much on you and Malcolm.’ She touched his face then. ‘You did not kill my brother.’ She’d been so wrong about him, as had everyone else. And yet he had kept faith with all of them. ‘Can you forgive me for thinking the worst of you?’
He nodded and a smile brought the edges of his mouth up. ‘Aye.’
‘That quickly? You can forgive me?’
‘You loved me even believing I killed him. If you could do that,’ he whispered, ‘how could I not forgive you?’
He leaned over to kiss her but the door burst open and people poured in. Still groggy, she shook her head as she watched both Camerons and Mackintoshes fill the chamber. If anyone thought it amiss that she lay there with him, no one, not even her father, objected.
The strangest thing was that her father helped her off the bed and hugged her fiercely, whispering endearments and promises in her ear. From the satisfied look on his face and the way he nodded and smiled at her, she knew Brodie had something to do with this, as well.
From what she could see and what she’d heard, he would need some time to remain abed and heal. But the daft man tried to stand up when Grigor arrived in the chamber.
She understood—a man stood when his chieftain entered a room and so Brodie tried once more to push his beaten body from the bed only to be pushed back by the elder.
‘Rest now. You deserve it, Brodie.’
