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Time had moved so slowly back then. Every second she had spent without him was a second spent in fear. Jonet had nearly fallen from Temper in her hurry as the guards rushed to her side, alarmed. She knew what a sight she must have been as she raced towards the Castle, covered as she was in Matthew’s blood. She told them what happened and while one went to inform the Laird, the others went back with her to retrieve him.
Freya had still been lying there, staring up at the sky, when they returned. In that moment, Jonet would not have cared if she had run away. She only cared about Matthew’s welfare and was afraid that in the time away from him, he might have died. The guards carried them both back to the Castle and while Matthew had been instantly taken up to his room to be looked at, Freya had been tossed in the dungeons.
The physician had managed to staunch the blood flow, remove the arrow that was still stuck in his side, and ultimately prevent him from dying. He had said that Matthew should wake at any moment, but he was yet to open his eyes.
“Ye have to take care of yerself as well, Miss Jonet,” Georgie was covered in bits of hay, but Jonet did not think he knew it. He looked worriedly at her. “I daenae think Matthew will be happy to see ye like this.”
Jonet touched her cheek. She must admit, it felt a bit hollower than usual.
“Is that yer way of sayin’ I look terrible?” She half-joked, her smile lasting only a second.
Christal rolled her eyes and placed the plate she had brought in on Jonet’s lap. The sight was wonderful, but the smell of the meat only churned Jonet’s stomach.
“Daenae twist yer face like that,” Christal chided instantly. “Ye are eatin’ somethin’ or else I’ll have Georgie force it down yer throat.”
“He wouldnae do that,” Jonet mumbled.
“If he willnae, then I will. And ye ken that I am stronger than ye, especially when yer as thin as a pile of sticks.”
“How wonderful for me self-esteem.” Jonet picked up a leg of veal, which was not usually served for breakfast. One glance out the window told her that time had gotten away from her again.
“When was the last time ye brushed yer hair?” Christal asked. She stood behind Jonet and ran her fingers roughly through the knots. Jonet had not done anything since Freya’s last work, but she assumed the braid had untied itself over the past week. She could just imagine what an awful sight she must look.
Perhaps they are right. It would do well for me to take a little more care of myself past simply cleaning and puttin’ on new clothes.
Tasks that took far less time now that she did it on her own, wishing only to return to Matthew’s side.
She nibbled on the veal with her eyes downcast on her plate. Georgie sat next to her on the bed.
“He will wake soon,” he put a hand on her shoulder.
“I ken,” she responded, but then her voice broke. She should know. She should have faith, but every day that went by, every second he remained asleep, made her more anxious.
“Ye were very brave, Miss Jonet,” he went on. “To think ye took on that traitor like that.”
“I dinnae do anythin’. She was the one who lured me out there to kill me. If Matthew hadnae arrived, then…”
“Aye, aye, let’s nae talk about that.” Christal was undoing her braids, her fingers rough and impatient. Jonet’s head pulled back from the force of her pulling. “It is all over now. All we can do is look to the future.”
It was over. Jonet had not given herself the chance to think about it. Jonathan and Freya were no longer a threat. Her ‘curse’ had been lifted. She had nothing else to fear.
Tears blurred her eyes, and Jonet refocused her attention on eating, hoping they would not see.
Georgie could not contain his obvious curiosity for long. “What did Laird MacLagain say he would do with Freya?”
Freya had been taken from the dungeons when her wounds had caused a terrible fever, leading Jonet’s father to take pity on her and have her treated. She was now resting in the same room she had put Georgie in.
“I daenae ken what he will do,” Jonet answered honestly. “I daenae want to ken.”
The very thought of Freya brought back the heart-tugging pain of her betrayal. To think that it had all been a lie, that the woman she had come to know as her friend had been pretending all along. That she had been the cause of her pain.
As for Jonathan… Jonet refused to even think about him.
“I hope he makes a decision soon,” Christal spoke strongly. She had managed to get Jonet’s hair knot-free. “I cannae think straight with the thought to her still being under this roof—”
“And I cannae think straight with all this talking.”
Jonet’s heart thumped. She twisted in her seat, so quickly that the plate would have slipped from her grasp had she not held on to it. She looked directly into those green eyes, now cloudy with sleep, that she loved so much.
