Chapter Sixteen
Jillian groaned and opened her eyes slowly to pitch blackness. For a moment, she thought she was blind, but then the sliver of moon peeped out from behind a cloud, allowing for a dim light. As she gradually became aware of her surroundings, pain jabbed through her abdomen like a sharp knife. She gasped at the intensity and clutched her stomach. The baby.
She lay perfectly still, wondering how long she had been in the ravine. It was still night, so maybe she had lost consciousness for only a short time. The place was eerily quiet. There was no sound of men’s voices or tramping of feet. Thankfully, there was no sound of animals rustling nearby either.
The jagged edge of a rotted tree branch poked her side. Gingerly, she shifted a little, and then inhaled sharply, grasping her stomach at the stabbing pain. An odd heat seared through her hand and she remembered cutting it on the edge of something sharp. Once she was aware of it, the throbbing began. Resolutely, she steeled herself to ignore it. The baby was more important. Had she killed it in her fall?
Dear God. Ian would never forgive her. She grimaced as a contraction began. She had to get out of here. Very slowly, she moved her ankles and then her legs. Nothing seemed to be broken, but when she tried to sit, she collapsed back on the ground. The stomach pain was too intense. Perhaps if she rested for a few minutes, she’d gain enough strength to sit and then stand. Jillian closed her eyes. Just a few minutes…
She drifted in and out of consciousness, barely cognizant when the sky began to lighten into the first glimpse of dawn. It seemed to her that an old lady appeared before her, but she wasn’t sure if it was a dream. When she opened her eyes—or at least she thought she did—no one was there. Yet when she closed them, the old woman was back. The ancient picked up Jillian’s hand, and the pain subsided.
“Sleep,” the Crone of the Hills whispered.
“Shane! Shane!” The twelve-year-old twins, Caitlin and Caylan, raced out the front door of the castle the next morning as their brother rode into the courtyard. “Ye are finally home!”
Dismounting, he gathered one twin under each arm, picking them up and swinging them around as though they were sacks of feathers, causing them to squeal before he set them back down.
Bridget shook her head at the girls as she came forward to give Shane a hug. “They were up at the break o’ dawn, waitin’ for ye, cousin. Were the seas kind to ye?”
“Aye. Hardly a swell between Ireland and here,” he answered as they all walked toward the castle entrance.
Bridget rolled her eyes. “What that means is the seas were less than ten meters and the ship still has all her masts.”
Shane smiled indulgently at her. “My ship is well-founded. She enjoys a bit of a wild ride, nae?”
“Just like a good woman,” Duncan said as he came forward to greet Shane with a clap on his shoulder.
“Ye will mind yer mouth,” Bridget snapped at him. “The twins have ears the size of meat platters.”
“’Tis glad I am to be back,” Shane said, changing the subject. “I brought gifts for the girls and a compass for the fishing boat we keep on Linnhe, but best of all, I bartered for a book on ancient Irish history that I look forward to reading in front of the fire tonight, along with sipping a wee dram.”
“What good does it do a mon to read about what happened before?” Duncan asked. “’Tis what is happening now that is important.”
“If we learn from history, we do not repeat mistakes,” Shane replied.
“We can take care of mistakes with the sword, laddie.”
“Mayhap the sword would nae be needed so much if a mon took to heart the lessons from the past.”
Duncan snorted. “Ye spend too much time with yer nose in books.”
“And ye might do well to read one,” Bridget retorted.
Shane smiled at Bridget’s defense of him, but it was not necessary. That some men did not appreciate history and literature did not bother him, although being thought a scholar of sorts was incentive to keep his sword arm strong.
As if she read his thoughts, Bridget added, “Shane can swing a claymore with one arm, if ye remember, uncle.”
The older man’s face grew red, and Shane knew he was thinking about the time when Shane had done just that—slaying two men who had Duncan’s back to the wall. The man’s pride had been wounded more than his body. Best to change the subject
“Is Ian about?”
“He has gone south to check on the estates,” Bridget informed him as they entered the dining hall where others were breaking their fast.
“I thought Jamie was doing that.”
“Aye, but Jillian’s sister took it into her head to go to London, and Jamie had to follow to protect her.”
Shane raised a quizzical brow. “To protect the lass? Knowing my cousin, she might need protecting from him.”
