“How long has she been sleeping?” Constantine demanded. When Hugh didn’t answer right away, he swung his legs off the bed.
“She hasna woken up,” his steward admitted quietly.
Constantine leaped from the bed and went to the door. “Ye deceived me, Hugh.”
“Because I knew ye would do exactly what ye are doing,” Hugh said, keeping up with his steps when Constantine left the room. “Ye need to recover.”
“I’ll recover when I know she will recover as well.” He followed Hugh’s finger to where his steward pointed down the hall. When he reached her door he was overcome with relief and pressed his forehead to the cool wood.
He had opened his heart to her the day he first saw her—orhim, as he had first thought. He had allowed her to go where only Alison lived and she stepped in and set up her belongings. He smiled despite his new worries over her. He became aware that Hugh was stepping away.
Constantine breathed and knocked.
When no reply came, he opened the door. His eyes fell to the bed, where she lay asleep. “Ismay, my love,” he said softly, entering the room. She didn’t stir. He went to the bed and gazed down at her. He never thought he could love again. But he loved this lass. Och, how he loved her.
“My love, wake up. I am already oot of my mind withoot ye. Wake up.”
Standing at the side of the bed, he leaned down and resting his elbow on the thin pillow under her head, he whispered close to her ear. “Ismay, I canna go on withoot ye in my life. Ye have made everything fresh and new to me again. Ye promised to stay with me. Someone once told me that a person who gives her word and keeps it can be trusted. Keep yer word to me, lass.”
He gazed as one utterly captivated by the beauty she possessed. He ran the tip of his index finger along her nose, the shape of her lips. “Wake up fer me, my light, my love.” His whisper became a plea against her temple. “I’ll wait right here fer ye.”
He waited for two more days, barely leaving her side except to use the garderobe. Hugh saw that his meals were served in her room, and finally accepted the fact that Constantine was not returning to his bed.
The same healer who gave them no new news about Ismay’s condition, advised Constantine that in the absence of fighting or bouncing in the saddle, his wound was healing nicely. But what did it matter as long as his wife remained asleep?
He had the urge to grab the healer by the throat and demand he find out why she wasn’t waking up. But that kind of behavior would disappoint Ismay. She saw him as more than brawn and battle skill. She saw a man—a chief, who was trustworthy not to hurt her. No use in beating up the healer.
He sighed and sat in the chair beside her bed. He looked at her and didn’t move his gaze when Hugh showed the healer out.
“I dinna want to be a soldier any longer, love,” hetold her while she slept. “I want to settle doun with ye and father our bairns. Aye, seven of them.” He smiled at the thought of his sons and daughters: wee May, their first lass, Arailt, their first son. He imagined them all sitting around their mother and father.
“Seven?”
Constantine leaped from his chair and almost landed in bed with her. “My love!”
She stared at him as if he had sprouted another eye. “Seven babies?”
His smile was wide and eager when he nodded. “I’ll make the house bigger, but not yet. First, I want to enjoy living there with ye and makin’ our brood.”
The storms in her glorious gray eyes had finally settled and were like glass seas when they fastened on him. “Fergive me fer frightening ye, husband.”
Her voice fell like jingling bells in his ears, his soul. He gathered her hands in his and held them to his lips. “Ye kept yer word and came back to me,”
“I dreamed of ye,” she told him with the remnants of sleep in her voice. “Well, notyeprecisely. ’Twas more like…I sensed yer presence against the door like a shadow that had found its light. I wanted to wake and greet ye, hold ye, kiss ye”—she paused to blush—“but I couldna wake up. I made ye wait, and fer that I am sorry.”
He held a finger to her lips. “I love ye, Ismay. Thank ye fer comin’ back to me.”
He waited a little while before he called Hugh and gave him the good news. He wanted more time alone with Ismay.
“How do ye feel?” he asked. “Does yer back hurt? Yer chest? Anything?”
“My back—MacRae!” she exclaimed as if remembering her wound brought the culprit back to her thoughts.
“Hugh took care of him,” Constantine let her know. “He left himfer dead so he doesna know if he made it or no’.”
“Hugh?”
He nodded and recalled how much the steward had done.
