Page 83 of The Eagle

“Do ye think he is dead?”

Her brother took a deep breath. “It would be a miracle if he is not.”

For some reason instead of making her upset, his honesty helped her settle. “I believe in miracles,” she said meeting his gaze. “Have any of the items taken by the storm washed back up on the shore?”

“Aye,” Torac said once again pointing in the direction they headed. “Mostly up there.”

Cait called up to the driver. “Go.”

When they arrived where the others were searching for Stuart, her heart sank. The shoreline was rocky and hard to traverse. Everyone was on foot as horses would get their hooves caught in the rocks.

Upon seeing them, Artair and Dougal hurried over. Neither chastised them, instead asked that they stay together and help search.

It was a long time later that despair began to inch its way inside. Tears poured down her face when a young man’s mangled body was recovered. He’d washed ashore while they searched. They took him and placed him next to the bodies of two others.

Someone yelled stating they’d found someone alive. Her hopes soared only to be dashed, when two guards appeared with a woman who had survived but was badly bruised. She was ushered into the carriage.

“Ye should return to the house with her. Ye need to eat,” Artair told Cait. “I will continue searching through the night.”

“I cannot leave,” Cait said, looking up at the sky and glad to see that clouds were not gathering. “I have to stay and look.”

A bonfire was lit and soon the fire burned brightly.

Despite the fact she was quickly losing energy, she forced herself to walk away from the fire’s warmth and back in the direction of where the woman had been found.

Dougal caught up with her, his face haggard from lack of sleep. “If I know my cousin, he dragged himself under some brush and is covered with branches to keep warm. Which increases his chances of surviving but makes it harder to find him if he is unconscious.”

The words made her feel better as they continued searching on the beach where the waves now lapped peacefully against the rocks.

“There’s something,” Dougal said and scrambled to pull a sodden tartan from the water. It was Stuart’s.

Cait’s eyes widened as she scanned the shoreline expecting to see Stuart’s lifeless body. In desperation, she raced down to the water looking side to side, for any sign of him.

“Stuart!” she screamed. Her cries were muffled by the sound of the sea. “Stuart!” Stumbling across the rocks, she walked back into the woods praying to find something that indicated he survived.

“Look!” Dougal exclaimed rushing toward some bushes. In his hurry, he tripped and as he scrambled to stand, Cait caught up with him. She didn’t see anything.

“What is it?” She shook with fear. Torn between wanting to know the truth and at the same time fearing it.

“There,” Dougal said rushing forward to where it looked as if a tree had fallen. He pulled an oversized branch and there on the ground curled into a ball was a man’s body.

“Who is it?” Cait asked suddenly barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Dougal was bent over the person touching him and then he removed his thick coat and placed it over the man.

When he looked to Cait, he was crying. “It is him. He is barely alive.”

Cait threw herself over Stuart willing the little bit of body heat she had to seep into him. “Go get help,” she screamed.

Dougal rushed off yelling for help. She removed her cloak and then her underskirts and did her best to wrap Stuart with them. His lips were blue and his breathing shallow, but he was alive and that was all that mattered.

Days passed and Stuart remained unconscious. They kept him at the large house in the village at first. However, after a pair of days, she and her mother decided to take him home. If he were to die, Cait preferred that he spend his last days in their new home.

He’d regained his coloring and his breathing normalized, but he did not waken. Every day Cait would spend a long time painstakingly feeding him clear broths and herbal teas so that he had some nutrition. Even though she was as careful as she could be, at times he would choke on what she gave him. It was the only time he seemed to have a bit of life in him. Coughing and sputtering. It was what kept her going. The belief that he was still in there and he would beat this.

Every day she sat beside him, speaking to him. Every night she would cuddle with him, kissing his face and reassuring him that she loved him.

It wasn’t until the day that the rest of the family arrived that reality sunk in. Stuart, in all probability, would die. Cait went into mourning. She hid from everyone. Stayed with her mother and allowed the brothers and Lady Mariel to take turns watching over Stuart.

Once they had all sought their beds for the night, only then would she go to the bedchamber and sleep with him.