15
Ailis heartily wished there was some way to send word to Alexander. She sat down beneath a tree and struggled against falling asleep as her child nursed. Exhaustion had become a constant companion. Each time she stopped walking, she fell asleep. She knew that every step toward complete exhaustion brought her a step closer to what could prove to be a deadly illness, but she was too weary to even worry about that any longer. All she wanted was to reach a place where she could have a safe, dry bed.
Jaime gently removed the child from Ailis’s arms and redid her gown, ignoring her sleepy protests. He set the baby at his shoulder and walked, murmuring soothing nonsense to the child as he made certain there was no air in the small belly to give the baby a pain and cause him to cry. Unlike his mother, the child appeared to thrive on the journey to his father’s keep. The heir to Rathmor was already displaying his sire’s strength. With each new sign of the child’s continued good health, and strength, Jaime’s concern eased.
It was Ailis who began to truly worry Jaime. They had come so far, but it had cost her dearly. She said nothing, but he was certain she had contracted a severe chill from either the mists that so often assailed them or the rainstorm they had gotten caught in last evening. Exhaustion had sapped all the color from her face, yet there was a flag of scarlet decorating each cheek. Every bit of strength she could muster went to the simple act of placing one foot before another and caring for her child. She had none left to fight a fever. Jaime feared that, in her badly weakened condition, an illness could easily mean her death.
Reluctantly he woke her. She desperately needed rest, but at the moment it was a luxury they could not afford. They had but a half day’s walk ahead of them before they reached their long-sought destination. At Rathmor there would be warmth, a bed, food, and people ready and able to care for Ailis. Jaime was sure that moving on was the wisest thing to do. Ailis had also given him strict orders when they had begun their journey—he was not to hesitate for her sake, for reaching Rathmor had to be all that mattered.
“Oh, the bairn is done,” Ailis mumbled as she struggled to stand.
“Aye, mistress. We must be walking on. ‘Tisna too much farther. We should be at the gate of Rathmor by nightfall. Nay,” he said when she reached for her child. “I will carry the bairn.”
She gave him no argument. Even her child’s slight weight had become too much for her to bear. It was all she could do to stay erect. Her greatest fear was that fever now lurked in her blood. Her limbs felt heavy, and it was increasingly difficult for her to think clearly. Ailis tried not to let Jaime see how poorly she was faring, but she knew she was failing miserably by the way he kept frowning at her. All she could do was pray that he did not stop, that he would obey her orders to get her child to Rathmor no matter what.
As they had slipped across MacCordy lands, they had had to hide from Donald’s men several times. They were at least safe from that danger now. She was not sure they could completely trust any MacDubh they met, however. Someone had betrayed Rathmor. Someone had told Donald where to find her and Alexander that day. She could not be certain that traitor had been captured. Jaime clearly shared her fear, for he kept them away from any signs of habitation, traveling close to the trees and keeping near to all possible hiding places. In fact, he was revealing a real skill at stealth, one surprising in such a big man.
Although Alexander was constantly on her mind, he was even more so as they drew nearer to Rathmor. She would finally see his beautiful face again, see that he had recovered from his wound, and finally put her fears for him to rest. So, too, would he protect their child. Donald’s chilling threat had lain heavily on her mind for what felt like a lifetime. That burden would soon be eased, for it would be shared. She would be able to rest for the first time in far too long. She clung to that thought as she struggled along.
As Alexander walked to the parapets of Rathmor, he heartily wished for a chance to rest easy with no fears or the nightmares inspired by them. Reports of the MacCordys and the MacFarlanes riding over the countryside searching for Ailis told him that she had somehow escaped her enemies, yet there was no word on her. That she was no longer in the hands of enemies should have been good news except that he had no idea whose hands, if anyone’s, she was in. Again and again he tried to think of where she could be, and again and again he came up with a thousand different possibilities.
One thing he knew for certain was that he sorely missed her. He sighed as he leaned against the wall and stared out toward MacCordy lands. His bed had never seemed so empty, yet he felt no urge to fill the space she had left. The hunger he felt had but one source and but one remedy. He even missed the way she would argue with him. It continually surprised him to discover just how fully she had become a part of his life. He was not at all sure that he liked it. It was exactly what he had tried to prevent, to shield himself from.
He had sent out some patrols, claiming that it was to scout for MacFarlanes or MacCordys. That the men probably suspected his true motives did not bother him. A few scouting forays was a small thing, but at least it was some sort of action taken. If by some miracle Ailis was making her way toward Rathmor, his men would find her. He just prayed that she would not try to avoid them because she feared a traitor. That was a possibility, for she could have no way of knowing that the man had been caught.
“ ‘Tis hard not kenning.”
Alexander grimaced as Barra stepped up next to him. “I think even word that she had died would be some relief at this point.”
Barra nodded and briefly clasped Alexander’s shoulder in a gesture of silent sympathy. “I just canna make myself believe that she is dead.”
“Nay, nor can I, although how she could disappear for a week, or more, whilst three clans search for her . . . ‘Tis as if she has become the mist—out there, yet not out there.” He shook his head. “Heed that. I grow fanciful.”
“She is but one person, mayhaps two, if Jaime is still alive. Then, too, ‘tis nothing less than their lives that is at stake.”
“Aye, true enough. That can serve to make the dullest become crafty, and Ailis isna dull of mind.” For one moment he wished that that was not true, for if she were not so clever, she would have stayed where she was, and then he might have had a chance to rescue her.
“And when ‘tis his mistress he must protect, Jaime can be very sharp as well. Such a thing brings out the best in that soft-hearted giant. And I hope he does still live, if only for our poor Kate’s sake.” Barra shook his head. “I hadna noticed how much her cheerful nature mattered about here until she grew so dowie, so solemn and forlorn.”
“Well, I hope the man is with Ailis, for she is either near her birthing time or just risen from a childbed. She will be in sore need of his brawn.”
Ailis realized that she could no longer fight her weakness or hide it from Jaime. Twice she had stumbled, but, blaming some obstacle, she had regained her feet and plodded on. The third time she could not even do that. She sat where she had fallen and fought the urge to burst into tears. It seemed to her to be the cruelest blow to lose the last of her strength when her final goal was so near at hand.
“Ah, Jaime, I am so close, but I canna take another step.” She shook her head. “Ye had best go on without me, Jaime. Take the bairn on to Rathmor and safety.”
“Dinna talk such foolishness! I willna be leaving ye.” He picked her up from where she sat in the road and carried her to the shelter of some trees.
“I could order ye to do as I say,” she said as he sat her down and crouched in front of her.
“Aye, that ye could, but I wouldna heed ye, so dinna waste what little breath ye have left. A bairn needs its mother.”
“There will be women enough to hold him. He will be needing a wet nurse anyhow; she could take my place.”
“A man needs his wife,” Jaime continued in a dogged tone as he tried to rouse her flagging spirits.
“Alexander MacDubh needs no one. He but smiles and a dozen lasses flock to his side. He will miss me little,” she said, her despondency causing her voice to tremble. “Och, Jaime, ‘tis no use. I can barely lift a finger, let alone walk. My body has said ‘’tis done.’ ‘Twas only the thought of how close I was to Rathmor that had kept me going all day.”
“I kenned that, lassie. Ye were too soon off your childbed. Ye have a fever, if I judge it aright.” He felt her forehead and cheeks, frowning deeply over the heat he discovered there.
