“’Tis about time ye came back to us,” Anders told him. He reached aside, then offered a cup. “I’ll lift yer head so ye can swallow this. Ye’ll feel better once ye do.”
“No more sleep,” Stellan protested. “Mariota.”
“She’s in her chamber, resting. Ye are stuck with me for now. Ye’ve been here four days and the lass has barely left yer side. The healer is going to steal Mariota from ye and train her as her replacement unless ye get better soon.”
“If she wishes to, aye, but Mariota is mine.”
“Aye, she’s made that clear to anyone who will stand still long enough to listen. Ye gave her a scare, brother. All of us, too. For most of the first day, we werena certain ye would make it. But ye are strong. And Mariota and I wouldna let ye go.”
“Good.”
“Yer lass was making herself sick worrying over ye. She loves ye, brother. Never doubt it.”
“I ken it.”
“Then heal and marry the lass. She doesna love me. Never has, betrothal agreement be damned. I’m no fit substitute for ye.”
“And don’t ye forget it,” Stellan told him, summoning a smile.
“Oh, and by the way,” Anders said, “we’re both in trouble with Da.”
Stellan tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. He’d know from the moment they concocted this crazy scheme, switching places with each other, that in the end, they’d have to confess to their father and he’d probably flay their hides. Instead, Stellan asked,“How did ye show up in time? I remember seeing ye right after I killed Alber. Or I think I did. Were ye there?”
“I was. I felt ye were in trouble long before Mariota got to Dunrobin. I rode out with some guards. Our connection led me to ye.”
“Ye felt I was in trouble?”
“Aye. That may be the longest reach of our connection so far.”
“I thought it was gone. Grown out of it. But I was desperate. Thought I was about to die. Needed ye to ken. To look after Mariota.”
“And be laird in yer stead. Ye ken I never intended to do that by myself. Ye swore an oath with me.”
“Kenned ye’d be angry.”
Anders snorted. “Ye were right about that. What made ye charge off by yerself?”
“Chasing Mariota and the men. Two of mine following Alber. Too slow, I guess.”
“Aye. They were shocked when they arrived home to hear what had happened. Likely ye’ll see them before long. They’re eager to apologize. To see that ye are getting better.”
“Me, too.” He fought to clear his throat.
“Thirsty?”
“Aye.”
Anders picked up another cup, lifted his head and held him so he could drink. When he finished, Anders told him, “That one has some sleeping potion in it.” At Stellan’s frown, he said, “Dinna blame me. The healer wants ye to rest, so sleep well, brother.”
Stellan barely heard the last word before the dark crowded in. He took a breath and let it cover him.
Mariota’sfavorite pastime had become watching Stellan’s chest rise and fall with his breathing as he slept. Over the last few days, each breath had gotten deeper and lasted longer, a sure sign, the healer told her, that he was healing and very soon would be well enough to use those breaths to start complaining.
Mariota hoped so. She couldn’t recall hearing Stellan actually complain about anything, unless it was her father’s treatment of her. Or his failure to deal with Alber. Stellan deserved to complain about that, certainly. If she could speak to her da, she’d not speak, she’d yell and scream and point fingers until he understood what his inaction had led to. The man she loved lying here, breathing.
At least Stellanwasbreathing. The fight with Alber could have gone so much worse. His arrows had wounded Stellan, but they could have killed him. It seemed Alber was a much better shot than she’d given him credit for. He’d missed Valkyrie twice— if she didn’t count her missing claw —and he’d missed her, too, all on purpose, she now suspected. Stellan lived because Alber wanted to fight him, not because Alber’s killing shots didn’t land where he intended.
Suddenly, Stellan groaned and opened his eyes.
