“Aye, and that fever is what weighs me down. I canna think clearly. Go on ahead, Jaime. Ye could come back for me.”
“I willna leave ye. Nay, and not when we are so very close. And there is rain scenting the air. I will carry ye.”
“Nay, that will slow ye down.”
Jaime was prepared for argument or, if that failed, to make use of his greater strength, but his attention was suddenly diverted from Ailis. He heard the sound of horses being ridden leisurely down the road toward them. He quickly pushed Ailis down onto the ground and tucked the baby into her arms. With a quiet he had perfected over the last few days, he crept toward the roadside. Even though they were very close to Rathmor, he did not dare to assume that the people approaching would be friends. He crouched behind a small knot of bushes and strained to get a good look at the small band of men despite the diminishing light of an early evening. When Jaime recognized the leader, he was swept with relief.
“I am nay too fond of going back to the laird without any word—again,” grumbled one man.
“Aye.” Angus sighed and shook his head. “The laird doesna much like not kenning. He needs to act, yet he canna do naught. God’s beard, where can that lassie have gotten to?”
“Over here, Angus,” called Jaime as he slowly stepped forward, out of his hiding place.
“Jaime?” croaked Angus as the group reined in and stared at him. “ ‘Tis truly ye?”
“None other. Have your eyes gone bad?”
“My eyes are fine,” Angus snapped as he dismounted hastily along with the others in the scouting party. “We have been searching high and low for ye and the lass for over a week. I didna expect ye to stroll up and hail me as if naught is amiss.”
“I am a bit surprised to see ye, too, as I would have thought that ye would stay closer to Rathmor with so many MacCordys and MacFarlanes wandering the lands hereabouts.”
“Those fools stumble over each other so much they dinna see anyone else. Now, where is the lass?”
“She is over here, Angus.”
With his eldest son in tow, Angus followed Jaime to where he had left Ailis, and he cursed when he first set eyes upon her. “Och, lassie, have ye gone mad?”
“Such a fine greeting,” Ailis murmured and smiled weakly at the men who knelt by her side. “Look here, Angus—a son.” She tugged the blanket open enough for Angus to see the child.
“Sweet Lord, save us! When did he arrive?” Angus stared at the baby in openmouthed surprise.
“About a week past. Nay, a fortnight, I think.” She struggled to sit up, but Angus had to give her a helping hand. “He decided he couldna wait any longer, not even for me to get him home to Rathmor.”
“Ye are completely mad, lassie! Ye should be abed, not traipsing about the countryside. Do ye think ye are some strapping peasant slut? Sweet Mary, ye look poorly and sorely worn down.”
“Always quick with a ready compliment. Ah, but I am sorely tired, Angus. Is Alexander all right?” she asked in a soft, hesitant voice and tensed for the answer.
“Aye, he has healed well. I think his wounds must have appeared worse to ye than they were, although ‘twas no light cut he suffered from, true enough. He is sore hot to take a sword to someone, but with ye disappearing as ye did, it left us with none to take up a sword against.”
“That must dearly try his patience,” she drawled and, despite how bad she felt, she was able to smile faintly.
“Oh, that it does, m’lady. That it does. Here, Jaime, ye take the bairn, and I will take this fool lass,” Angus said and then ordered his son, “Ye will ride with Lachlan, Rory.”
“I almost made it, Angus,” Ailis said as the burly man lifted her up into his arms. “I came so close, but I just couldna take another step.”
“Aye, ye did almost make it, and ye almost killed yourself, too. I think ye may have caught a touch of the fever, by the looks of ye.”
“ ‘Twill pass,” she murmured as they mounted, and she snuggled against his chest, suddenly feeling chilled to the bone and craving his warmth.
Angus wished he felt as confident as she sounded. He did not like her looks, which told him that the fever settling on a woman after a birth had accounted for far too many women’s lives. He pushed his and his men’s horses as hard as he dared, considering that they had already been ridden all day. It grieved him to think that Ailis may have struggled so hard to reach Rathmor only to die. He dared not even think of how such a tragedy would affect Alexander.
Chaos erupted when Angus’s scouting party returned. Alexander hurried into the bailey to see what had caused the uproar. As he stepped out of the keep with Barra at his heels, everyone grew silent, and Alexander felt himself tense. Alexander’s eyes widened at the sight of Jaime dismounting to be heartily embraced by Kate. Then his gaze flew to Angus. It was easy to recognize the midnight-black hair that tumbled free of the blanket which shrouded the form in Angus’s arms. Alexander raced to Angus’s side, then hesitated. He felt his heart skip to a stop when he saw how still Ailis was. It took him a moment to find the ability to speak, for fear choked off his voice.
“Ailis?” His voice was little more than a croak as Angus gently placed her in his arms.
Ailis stirred at the sound of her name spoken in Alexander’s enticing voice, and she looked up at him. “I have brought ye your son, Alexander MacDubh.”
“Sweet heavens,” whispered Barra.
