“Then we’ve a longer ride ahead of us, but I will find you help, I promise you. Aislinn, you and Sorcha will take the pony—”
“Pony?” Staring at Cameron, she followed his gaze deep into the trees to the right and saw the sturdy pony she had ridden from the convent nibbling on some grass.
“Aye, he had enough wits about him tae run, too. Jeanne, are you willing tae ride fast? The pain will be great, but if we do, we’ll be in Dumbarton in a few hours’ time—”
“Dumbarton, Cameron?” Stunned, Aislinn felt as if she stared stupidly at him again, but his grim nod told her that he knew well the risks.
“We’ve no choice, wife… not if she’s tae have a chance tae live. If anyone can tend tae her, it’s King Robert’s healers. They’ve seen far worse from battle, believe me.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, but rose and lifted Jeanne with him, her outcry of pain scattering a flock of blackbirds high up in the trees.
“Och, forgive me, Laird—”
“You’ve nothing tae forgive. You must know, Jeanne, your husband—”
“Aye, he’s with God… and I know, too, Laird, we’ve no time for a burial. My daughter’s without her father now, and I’ll pray she willna lose me, too—”
“Dinna think the worst,” Cameron said with another glance at Aislinn, his words echoing the ones he’d said to her at the inn. “The pony, love…”
Warmed by his endearment, she could tell nonetheless by the lines etching his handsome face in the morning sunlight filtering through the leaves that he hadn’t stopped thinking about what might lie ahead for them. Yet what else could be done? They couldn’t just leave Jeanne at the village to die.
As Sorcha followed after Cameron and her mother, Aislinn hastened to fetch the pony, which turned his head and nickered at her as she approached him.
“Aye, I’m taking you back to where you came from,” she murmured, grasping his thick mane as she had done before and hoisting herself onto his back. “Good boy, get on with you. You’ve run fast as the wind for me before, so let’s see you do it again.”
Chapter 22
“Ifear Jeanne doesna have long, Aislinn. She’s asking for you… aye, Laird Campbell as well.”
Aislinn nodded at Sister Agnes, who kept her arm around Sorcha’s waist and guided the sobbing girl out the door of the nuns’ quarters for some fresh air.
Aislinn glanced at Cameron, his face bearing the sorrow they both felt—and she knew he blamed himself, too.
Jeanne’s pain had grown too great for them to make it all the way to Dumbarton Castle, so they had ridden to the convent instead. Sister Agnes had taken them in at once, Jeanne made comfortable in the same room where Aislinn had convalesced… except now there would be no convalescing for Sorcha’s mother.
She had lost too much blood before they had found her in the woods, Aislinn blinking back tears at how brave Jeanne had been while they had ridden south as fast as they could.
Never once crying out in pain.
Her eyes, when opened, focused upon Sorcha holding onto Aislinn as they rode beside Cameron’s larger steed, the stout-hearted pony able to keep up because Cameron had held his horse back so they wouldn’t fall behind.
“We should have taken her tae the village,” Cameron murmured, his voice heavy with regret as they stood together outside Jeanne’s room. “I dinna know why I thought there was hope. I knew her injury would threaten her life the moment I saw it.”
“You wanted tae find her help, husband, a noble plan—a kind and caring plan!” Aislinn countered, taking his hand. “Come, love, she’s asking for us.”
Cameron’s grim expression easing at the endearment, which until now he’d been the only one to use, he squeezed her hand and walked with her into the room.
At once Sister Hestia rose from a chair near the bed, the nun’s plain, pinched features marked by sadness. “She’s very weak… here, I’ll move the chair closer for you, Aislinn.”
The scraping of the chair legs upon the wooden floor seemed to rouse Jeanne, who turned her head from the mullioned window as Aislinn sat down beside her.
Cameron drew closer, too, while Sister Hestia left them in a soft flutter of black habit and closed the door behind her as Jeanne began to speak with great effort.
“Laird Campbell… Aislinn… I’ve a grievous sin weighing upon my soul. You must hear me while there’s still time.”
Aislinn nodded and took Jeanne’s outstretched hand, the dying woman’s fingers so cold that she had to blink away tears.
“Ah, sweet lass, dinna cry for me. I’ll be with my Leith again soon, aye, and he’s already answered for our sin… but what else could we have done?”
