With care, he led his father to the lord’s chamber, opened the door, pleased to discover all signs of his uncle had been cleared away as he’d requested earlier this day.
Instead of Gaufrid’s rich silks and gaudy statues, a portrait of his father and mother graced the wall above the hearth. A cream handcrafted cover woven in a complex Celtic pattern lay atop the bed, and several wool blankets lay folded at the foot. To its right sat a table laden with a bowl of water, a flask of wine, bread, cheese, and sliced meats. In the far corner stood a tub filled withsteaming water.
He’d intended to use this room with Elspet, but thanked God he could hand the chamber to the man to whom it belonged. “I will leave youuntil we sup.”
After another embrace, he departed. Urgency had him hurrying down the corridor. He couldna discover his father was alive then lose Elspet. ’Twould be fate’s cruelest joke to gift him with a long-lost parent while stealing the woman who’dwon his heart.
Please God, let her live!
The potent scent of herbs filled the air as he stepped inside her chamber. Shimmers of golden light spilling from the hearth illuminated her pale face, exposing how her chest barely rose and fell with each breath. Heart in his throat, he glanced toward Rónán, who sat nearby. “Any change?”
Deep lines dug across his friend’s brow. “None since you left.”
He nodded. She hadna died. He’d find solace in that. “I just returned from the dungeon and…” His throat tightened with emotion.
Face taut with concern, his friend shoved to his feet. “Whathas happened?”
“’Tis my father; he is alive.” Voice rough, Cailin explained the events of a short while before.
Rónán shook his head. “God’s truth, ’tis an incredible blessing.”
“’Tis.” He swallowed hard. “Once he and Elspet awaken, I look forward to introducing them.” Cailin glanced toward the bed. “Go and rest. I will stay beside her.”
Rónán sighed. “I would argue that you need to find your own bed, but from your stubborn look, ’twill achieve naught.”
“It willna.”
“I shall be in my chamber if you need me.” He departed.
The snap and crackle of the fire filled the silence as Cailin walked over to her side, the beads of sweat on her face shimmering in the firelight, as if mocking his fear. Cupping her hand, he knelt before her, made the sign of the cross, andbegan to pray.
* * * *
Heat seemed to engulf her, to fill her every breath, the inferno a dark companion to the pain lancing her side. Rousing from a groggy haze, Elspet shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, bumped against hewn muscle.
Confused, she forced her lids open. Struggling against the incessant throbbing throughout her body, she turned her head to find Cailin lying beside her, then frowned at the unfamiliar chamber. Where were they?
Memories rolled through her of the attack, of the terror at the assailant hurling his dagger toward Cailin, of how she’d jumped before him, then naught.
By the soreness in her side, ’twas where the knife had sunk in.
She scanned the chamber, noted the flag bearing the crest of Dalkirk hanging near the hearth. Several large chests lay stacked against one wall, no doubt Cailin’s mail filling the largest, others holding garb and his belongings. Several bottles of wine stood upon a nearby table, a bowl of water lay near the bed, and to its side sat a basket filled with herbs.
Was this Cailin’s room from his childhood? As if it mattered. Wherever they were, he was alive.
Love filled her as she skimmed her gaze over his muscled body, clad in naught but a shirt and trews. From his slow, deep breaths, he was asleep. Needing to touch him, she smoothed her hand over the rough stubble upon his face, a man she would love forever.
Blue eyes opened. Relief flickered in his gaze, then a tender smile curved his mouth. “Your fever has broken.”
“I had a fever?”
“Ever since the attacktwo days past.”
Her hand trembled as she lowered it to the comforter. “I have been asleepfor two days?”
“Aye.”
“Where are we?”
