Ceana gave a wail so loud that she hurt her own ears.
Chapter Thirty-Four
There was a bright light when his eyes had fluttered. It had been as overwhelming as it had been painful to his aching head. Everywhere hurt; his body felt like he was lying atop a bed of nails.
What happened?His weary mind tried to orient itself and seek out his memories. What had happened to his body? Had he been in a battle that he had lost? Was he dead or alive?
Rannoch.
He remembered his cousin attacking him and stabbing him. He had not expected such viciousness from the slimmer-framed man, but he had caught Torcall by surprise. Torcall tried to move his hand over the spot where all his pain originated--the area where he had been stabbed. Despite the pain in his shoulders, he had pushed them still. But a hand stopped his and gave him a soft squeeze.
“Torcall,” he heard a familiar voice call to him.
I ken the voice that calls me name.He thought to himself as he tried to force his eyes open. The morning light burned through his brows, but still, he willed them open, daring the blindness that threatened him. He needed to see her face. He needed to know the face of the Angel of Death that bid him with such a beautiful voice.
She reached for his face, and he sank into the comforts of her small hand as she rubbed warmth into his cheeks and strength into his eyes. Slowly, his vision came back to him, and he gazed upon her, she who sat on the bed by his side. It was Ceana.
Her beautiful eyes gazed at him with sincere gratitude for his safety. It was a rare sight to see someone so bothered about him. While he had run from such care all his life in a bid to become stronger and without need, he was glad to see it upon the face of the woman with whom he was in love.
She was alive—and that meant he, also, was alive and in grave pain.
“I feared that ye might leave me,” Ceana said with a smile that told the story of prior tears. He wondered for how long she had been by his side and for how long she had cried and prayed for his recovery.
He smiled and leaned into the palm of her hand for her warmth. “Rannoch,” he muttered under his breath, and she put her fingers on his mouth, discouraging him from speaking any further.
“Save yer strength,” she told him. “Ye have been through a great deal. Ye were stabbed, and still, ye ran after me.”
Though she begged that he rest and forgo his questions, his eyes held stubbornness that she knew all so well. He would not rest nor stop trying to speak unless she told him what he wished to know.
“He is dead,” she told him. Though she was grateful for it, as was the entire clan, she did not show her glee in front of him, for she knew that Rannoch was still Torcall’s cousin.
Torcall sighed first and moved a little causing his entire body to roar at him in pain, and he groaned. Ceana leaned over him to press him back onto his back. Torcall did not fight her; he allowed her. Pressed onto his back and beneath Ceana, his eyes held hers and for a moment then, he thought he would have been able to seize her lips, but he had not the strength. He wished she would have bent over and kissed his aching lips, but she had not. She was too worried about him to have done that.
His abdomen tightened again, causing him to wince, and he stared down at the bandaged wound. Rannoch had stabbed him in the abdomen, and it was a great surprise to him that he had survived such a wound.
“What about...?”
“The clan kens that Rannoch was the killer and nae ye. Lottie saw what happened, and if ye had nae been there, she would have lost her life as would I also. She told her da, and though he strongly accused ye of murder, he has seen the error of his ways. He has told his brother, the Laird, and ye are free now,” Ceana relayed to him.
Torcall had not been as excited as she had expected him to be. “Ye are a free man now, Torcall. Ye can do whatever it is that yer heart desires. Ye can leave the clan lands if that is still yer desire,” she said to him. Though she tried to fake sheer happiness, he could see the sadness in her eyes. She wanted to know if his mind was still made up about leaving the clan, about leaving her.
Given his dear cousin's betrayal and the way the clansmen had turned their backs on him, Torcall was not certain what his decision would be. So, he spoke nothing of it.
Mustering all the strength that he could, he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. They were as soft as he had remembered them. And in the void that he had gone to after passing out the night before, she had been the light that he had never forgotten.
“Thank ye,” he told her. She smiled and nodded before turning her face away from him, hiding the other expressions that her face gave, expressions she thought too embarrassing for him to see.
When she turned back to him, Torcall had closed his eyes again and was gone in a deep slumber.
As the world seemed to weigh heavier and heavier on his body, pushing him into unconsciousness, he had told her the truth, the truth that he was certain about. He was not afraid to admit to her.
“I love ye,” he had muttered before he was plunged into the darkness. His last thoughts had been whether or not she had heard his words.
* * *
Riding ahead of him was the jailor whose face he had seen every day during his captivity. This time, however, the man was tasked with escorting him to the keep. Though his body still hurt, it hurt a little less, enough for him to be able to stay on a horse while his escort had pulled the steed along. They were going to the keep on the request of the Laird, and neither man could refuse.
There were more guards even by the gate into the keep, with many of them staring without contempt at him. However, that had done little to put his mind at ease. With so many guards, it had almost seemed as though he was being led to his execution. But he was a free man; Ceana had said that.
