"I ken it but I feel a need to test my words. Do ye think she can understand and forgive me?"
Storm decided it was not her place to tell him how easily Islaen could do that. “I should think so especially if ye have some sweet words for her as weel."
"Oh, I think I can manage a few,” he drawled, then sighed. “I pray I havenae lost my chance."
"Nay,” she picked up the tray, “I just do not feel that is so. Rest, Iain, and might I make a suggestion?"
"Aye, what?"
"Be sure ye have her where ye can talk all this out without interruption and mayhaps where ye can have a few days to prove to her that ye mean it. That might not come for a few days. There will be people about and she will need time to heal."
Iain sighed and nodded, recognizing the wisdom of what she said. He had many months of foolishness and neglect to atone for. There would be wounds to be soothed and he could not do that in a few snatched moments. Since Robert had sent word to the MacRoths, he suspected that a few snatched moments would be all he would get for a while.
When he woke up next it was with a start. He bolted upright in bed and suffered a moment's confusion, then knew what had awakened him. Islaen was crying out his name. He started to get out of bed and suddenly Alex was there.
"At least put your braes on e'er ye stumble in there,” Alex said even as he helped Iain do so.
"Where did ye come from?"
"A pallet in the corner. T'was thought t'would be wise to watch ye close a while longer."
Even as he stood up Iain realized he would need the supporting arm Alexander put around him. The ache in his head had lessened considerably but he was by no means healed. As they started towards Islaen's chambers, Iain cursed his weakness for it slowed them down.
With the slow return of consciousness, Islaen was assaulted by the memories of the ordeal with MacLennon. The most tormenting of all the visions was Iain standing helpless before an armed MacLennon. She grew more and more afraid as she realized that she did not know what had happened after she had been knocked down by MacLennon. The thought that Iain was dead made her scream his name. She sat up only to cry out as her head throbbed with pain. Clutching her head she still struggled to leave the bed, driven by her need to see Iain, but Storm and Meg hurried over to stop her.
"Lass, ye cannae just sit up and dash off,” Meg cried as she struggled to make Islaen lie back down.
"I must see Iain,” Islaen protested but found that she was much too weak to fight Meg and Storm and was soon tucked back into bed.
"Ye cannot see Iain,” Storm said firmly.
"He is dead then, isnae he,” Islaen said in a flat lifeless voice. “MacLennon killed him."
"Weel, an he did, lass, he did a muckle poor job of it,” Iain drawled, arriving in time to hear her words.
Her head ached so badly she found it hard to see clearly as she turned towards the voice. “Iain?"
"Weel,” he slipped into bed beside her, “'tisnae Alexander climbing into your bed."
"Och, weel, mayhaps next time,” she jested, her joy at finding that he lived raising her spirits despite the pain in her head.
"Islaen,” he growled and glared fleetingly at Alexander who chuckled merrily.
She gripped his hand tightly. “I feared ye were dead, Iain. I couldnae recall how matters stood after MacLennon struck me. I must have been knocked out."
"Aye, for twa days."
"How did ye escape him?"
"He fell right after he struck you."
"That was the scream I heard."
"Aye. Your blow to his head took a moment to work but work it did."
"He is dead then?"
"Quite dead, Islaen."
