As the door closed, Seathan stepped to Alexander’s side. “Patrik’s fate is not your burden to bear.”
“By my sword, he took the bloody arrow meant for me.” Guilt seared him as he faced his brothers. “As did our father in my youth, and he died to protect me. Now, we know not if Patrik will live.” He closed his eyes, opened them. “By my sword, twice it should have been me lying upon my deathbed.”
Anger flared in Duncan’s eyes. “Patrik has not died.”
“Nae,” Alexander rasped. “We have that.”
Patrik shifted, sweat lining his brow. He tossed his head back and forth. “Cristina.”
Alexander knelt at the bedside, placed his palm against Patrik’s brow. Fiery heat met him. “Patrik.”
His brother’s words were garbled.
“I will send for the healer,” Seathan said.
“What will she do?” Alexander stood, furious he could do naught but let his brother burn up with fever, let him die. “She has given him herbs to ease the pain. ’Twill take time and a miracle to heal his wounds.” Silence descended upon the chamber.
“Cristina?” Patrik whispered.
Alexander muttered a curse as he strode to the door.
“It will be good for you to be with Nichola,” Seathan said.
At the door, Alexander turned. “’Tis not who I am going to see.”
“Who then?” Seathan asked.
“Emma.” Alexander slammed the door in his wake and strode to her chamber, unsure whether he was angrier at Patrik for taking the bloody arrow for him or at Emma for being in league with his enemy. At Emma’s chamber, he shoved open the door, strode inside.
Empty.
He scanned the corridor. With a guard at the bottom of the turret, she could not have escaped. Blast it, where was she? An outrageous thought came to mind. Anger stewed. Nae, she would not dare!
Alexander bolted down the hallway, then took the stairs to the tower chamber two at a time. God help her if he found her within.
Above, the door stood open.
He stormed through the entry, his mind blazing hot.
Framed within the sheen of sun, the lass lay upon his grandmother’s bed asleep. Curled within her hand lay Patrik’s halved stone.
Bedamned! He stalked over. He should rip the gemstone from her hand. She was English and had no place in their home!
“A belief Patrik once held about Nichola as well.”
At the whisper of his grandmother’s voice, Alexander whirled. Heart slamming against his chest, he scoured the chamber. It stood empty, but a fire blazed within the hearth that had lain empty moments ago. He’d heard her voice, as if the words were spoken to him with a smile.
Shame filled him. Aye, when Patrik had first met Nichola, he’d believed she had no place within their home or Alexander’s life. Had not Emma risked her life to save Patrik by returning to Lochshire Castle? He swallowed hard. Like Patrik, he was wrong.
“I understand,” Alexander said to the fairies on the ceiling. “But that does not mean I like it.”
A sparkle flickered within the eyes of the fairy wearing the dark green gown, and then faded.
The flames within the hearth disappeared.
He muttered a curse. “Mistress Emma.”
She shifted.
