AnchorandStorm (11 page)

After a slight hesitation, she leaned toward him and he wiped her face with the cool cloth then laid it against her forehead. Closing her eyes, she sighed and said, “Ah, that feels good.” She held the compress in place with her own hands, covering his as she took the cloth from him.

He jerked away from her as if he’d been burned. Her sigh, her words and the touch of her hands conjured up vivid images of those hands caressing his body—and his cock responded instinctively.

When he saw her giving him a questioning look, he said, more gruffly than he intended, “Put the cloth against yer eyes, ’twill take some of the swelling down.” Then he turned and poured her a cup of tea. “Essie made her rabbit stew for us tonight. I think the beastie was one that was after yer neeps,” he said, in an attempt to make her smile.

His attempt failed. “I cannae eat.” Her gaze went back to her husband. “I’ve a lump in my throat and naught will go past it.”

He handed her the cup. “Drink some tea then. It will go down easy.”

“All right,” she said. She accepted the cup from him, but her hands shook so much that he reached out to help her steady it. She did not pull away from his touch as he had from hers. She took a sip and finally gave him a quick smile. “It’s good. Thank you.”

He nodded and they sat in silence for a few minutes as she finished her tea. He refilled her drink and gave it back to her, noticing that her hands appeared a bit steadier. She still had her beads wrapped around the fingers of one hand.

“May I ask ye something, Angus?”

He felt a little uneasy as to what her question might be. “Aye?” he replied softly.

“How did ye know the way to handle Edgar when he fell?”

“Oh that,” he said. “Well, after one of the battles, we came across a young lad who had fallen off a large rock. He said his legs felt tingly and he couldna walk, so we lifted him to carry him back to our lines. We neglected to hold his head and when it fell backward, he died instantly.” Angus closed his eyes, seeing again the boy’s face as if it had only happened yesterday. “The surgeon later told us his neck had snapped. Had we but kept it still, he might have lived.”

She placed her hand gently on his. “But, Angus, ye’re not a surgeon. Ye couldn’t have known.”

“Aye, but ’tis bad enough to be killed by the enemy, let alone yer own men.”

They fell silent again. Em’s innocent question had stirred up a host of images that raced through Angus’ mind—memories that invaded his waking thoughts and haunted his dreams so that he awakened screaming and in a cold sweat in the dark of night.

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly to clear the visions away, then looked over at Em. “Milady? May I ask
you
a question?”

She nodded.

“What happened to ye, when ye were turned out of yer house, I mean?”

For a moment, she stared off into space as if seeing it all played out again before her eyes. Then she began, “I left my home with only the clothes on my back and what little food I could carry and hid in the woods and in caves, traveling only in the dark, trying to get to a town, a city, anywhere that I might find work and a safe place to stay. One night I was sae tired, I fell asleep in a ditch by the road. I awakened to find a man staring down at me. It turned out to be one of my father’s tenants. He and his family were heading to Stirling, hoping to find work there, and they took me with them. I went to the hiring fair and that’s where Lord Stoc—Raymond found me and hired me as governess to his children.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “I didna ken at the time that he would want something more.”

Angus felt a sudden urge to go and kill the man. Then he began to wonder—did Callander take Em away from Stockdale because he truly loved her, or just to deny his nephew of her? But no, he had seen his master and Em together. There was no doubt Callander loved her as much as she loved him.

“I met Edgar at Raymond’s house the last time he came to visit.” Her voice broke with tears again.

Angus had heard enough. He couldn’t stay in the room any longer. If he did, he knew he would have Em in his arms, comforting her, consoling her, loving her. He stood up quickly. “Ye were lucky twice over then. Try to eat the stew before it goes cold.”

He felt Em’s gaze on his back as he almost ran from the room.

Chapter Nine

Emily had finished bathing Edgar and set the basin of water aside. Weston helped her dress him in a fresh nightshirt and now Emily and Fen were changing the bed linens.

“How is he today?”

From the corner of her eye, Emily saw Fen jump as if she’d seen a snake.
Perhaps she has
, Emily thought, as she looked up to see Raymond and Caroline standing in the doorway. She knew the inquiry had been voiced by Raymond, although the man had made an attempt to sound concerned, Emily heard no sincerity. She knew they had been hoping to find that Edgar had died during the night.

“He is the same,” Emily replied. She tucked in the last corner of the sheets and positioned Edgar on his back again, fluffing the pillows under his head.

“Oh dear,” said Caroline. “Poor old Uncle Edgar.”

Old?
Emily bristled at the description. Edgar was barely forty and two, hardly old, even though his disability might make him seem that way. His hair was still dark and thick and only a smattering of gray graced his temples.

“You’ve been with him day and night now for two days, my dear,” Caroline continued. “Why don’t you let me sit with him awhile and you go and get some fresh air?”

“I’m fine, Caroline. I shall stay with him.”

“But you’re so pale, Em—” At a look from Emily, she corrected herself. “My lady. Why don’t you go riding? It will put some color back into your cheeks.”

Emily thought she heard a small squeak from Fen, but the girl was always skittish around strangers and Caroline was enough to frighten anyone. She picked up the bowl of water and turned to the little maid. “Will you take the water away and bring fresh for me?” She started to hand it to her when she noticed that Fen was staring at Caroline and trembling. “Fen? Are you all right?” Emily asked.

Fen continued to stare until Emily touched her shoulder, then she jumped again. To Emily, she looked as if she had come out of a trance. “What is it, Fen? Is something wrong?”

Fen’s gaze darted back to Caroline, then she said, “N-no, milady.”

Why don’t I believe her?
, Emily thought. The girl was clearly afraid of Caroline but Emily didn’t know why. She only knew that if Caroline had done something to hurt Fen—physically or emotionally—she would throttle the woman within an inch of her life. She decided she would have a talk with Fen later. For now, she just wanted those two out of Edgar’s room.

“All right, Fen. You may go and help Mrs. Lamond.” The young girl curtsied and almost ran from the room. Emily turned to Raymond and Caroline. “I shall stay with my husband. Thank you both for your concern.” The words tasted sour on her tongue. “You may go now.”

Emily was somewhat surprised that they did.

Angus balanced the tray on one arm and tapped lightly on the door.

“Who is it?” came the curt reply.

Something must be very wrong
, he thought. He had never heard her be so abrupt or so challenging to anyone. “’Tis only Angus, milady. May I come in?”

“Aye.” It was said more softly, but still he feared what he would find on the other side of the door. Had Lord Callander taken a turn for the worse? Her voice, however, did not sound as if it came from her husband’s bedside. That in itself was worrisome, since she had hardly gone more than a foot away from him since his accident. He entered cautiously, looking first at the spot where she usually sat. Her chair was vacant.

He peeked around the door and saw her then. She was pacing back and forth across the room, her hands bunching and wrinkling the material of her skirt. He knew now that something other than her husband’s illness was upsetting her, he had seen her do that before when she was angry or worried.

“I’ve brought you some breakfast. ’Tis porridge, it will go down easy.”

“Take it away. I don’t want it.” She continued to pace, but she seemed too weary to put one foot in front of the other. At one point she swayed and only kept from falling by grabbing the back of a chair.

“Milady? What’s wrong? Tell me.”

The commanding tone of his voice stopped her. It seemed as if she were going to reproach him for his disrespect, but she must have seen the concern in his eyes, concern not only for the woman he loved but for a friend.
Yes
, he thought
, now we can be friends. If I can’t have her as my wife, my lover, I shall settle for friendship.

“Oh Angus. I canna bear it anymore, those two, hanging around, sticking their noses in, like a flock of vultures circling, waiting for the carrion. And Fen is afraid of Caroline and I don’t know why, but if she has hurt that child, I swear I will…oh I just wish they would go home.”

Angus set the tray down on a table. Then he crossed to the chair nearest the path Em paced as she continued to ramble, giving voice to all her pent-up anger and frustration. He perched on the arm and grabbed her hands, pulling her toward him. “Listen to me.”

His tone of voice seemed to startle her into silence and she stared at him.

He gave her hands a quick shake. “Tell them to leave.”

She sighed. “I canna do that. Raymond is his nephew and his heir if Edgar and I—” She stopped, apparently not wishing to discuss her and Callander’s intimate relationship with him.

“He is not the heir yet. Lord Callander still lives. You are the Countess of Callander. This is
your
home. Your rank is superior to theirs. Tell them to get the bluidy hell out!”

She looked at him for some time and he watched the change come over her. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, then walked to the bell pull. When Weston responded to the call, she said, “Weston, please tell Lord and Lady Stockdale I wish to see them at once.”

“They are not here, milady. They’ve taken the coach into Stirling for shopping.”

Em gave a short laugh. “Shopping with what, when they have no money? Thank you, Weston. Please bring them to me upon their return.”

She went back to the chair by Edgar’s bedside and sat down. She began to rub her hand around her neck and stretch it from side to side. Before he remembered his place, Angus positioned himself behind the chair and began to massage the tight muscles of her shoulders. Instead of stopping him, she let her head fall back against his stomach. “Mmmm, that feels good. My neck is so stiff.”

“That’s because ye’ve been sitting here for two days, hunched over his bed. Why don’t ye go and lie down for a bit? I’ll watch over him for ye.”

“No, I don’t want to leave. But my neck hurts and my back.”

“I have some salve that I use on the horses for muscle strains.” Out of the corner of her eye, she gave him a doubtful look. “Don’t worry. I’ve used it on myself,” he said. “It works and it smells of mint. Trust me.”

“All right,” she said, with a slight smile, “but if I develop a taste for alfalfa, I’ll know who to blame.”

He took it as a good sign that her sense of humor was coming out again. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she said, taking Edgar’s hand and rubbing it against her cheek.

“Oh that feels so good,” Emily sighed as Angus rubbed the liniment into the muscles of her neck and shoulders. “And ye were right, it doesn’t smell bad at all.” She tried to focus on that and not how wonderful Angus’ hands felt on her skin. It seemed to her that he was massaging her more as a lover would than as someone just trying to help her soreness, but it must be her imagination. She wouldn’t acknowledge her deepest thoughts—that it could be wishful thinking. Her husband was lying there comatose, possibly dying, how could she let herself think of another man in that way?

At the knock on the door, Angus jumped away from her as if guilty. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks, feeling slightly guilty herself. “Yes?” she called.

Weston entered. “Lord and Lady Stockdale have returned, milady.”

“Thank you, Weston. Please show them in.”

She rose from her chair and went to sit at Edgar’s desk. From the corner of her eye, she saw Angus take up a position at her side, but slightly behind her, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked intimidating to her—she hoped he would also appear that way to the Cavendishes.

Raymond strode into the room and Caroline flounced in, both of them acting as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Weston remained standing by the door as if he suspected he might be needed. He was as protective of Edgar as Emily herself was.

“Any change yet?” Caroline asked. There was a hard edge to her voice. Emily’s anger grew to the point where she could barely breathe. She vowed to herself at that moment that she would do anything she could to give Edgar a son—anything!

Before she could answer, Raymond reached over and shook Edgar’s shoulder. “Uncle Edgar? Wake up, Uncle,” he said loudly.

Emily jumped up out of her chair. “
Don’t you touch him!
”

Angus made a move toward Raymond, but Emily held out her arm to stop him. Raymond jumped back as if he’d been burned. It must have surprised him to hear Emily speak so. She did feel rather like a kitten that suddenly had learned how to roar like a lion.

She sat back down at the desk and took a quill from its stand. There was silence in the room as glances passed among Angus, Raymond and Caroline. She could feel them all watching her at times too and was pleased that she had them wondering what she was up to.

Finally, she finished writing and rose, holding out a piece of paper to Raymond. “This is a bank draft for five thousand pounds. That should be enough to pay your tailor’s bills and get you back to your home in comfort. You will take it and you will leave this house within the hour.”

“But-but Uncle—” Raymond began.

“If Edgar’s condition changes, I will certainly notify you. At this time, however, we don’t require your help or your attentions. Mr. Weston?”

“Yes, milady?”

“Will you please see that Lord and Lady Stockdale’s carriage is made ready?”

Weston gave a deep bow and when he straightened up, Emily thought she saw the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yes, milady.” He held the door open.

Raymond and Caroline stared at her for a few seconds. Then Caroline huffed, stuck her nose up in the air and strutted out of the room. Before he left, Raymond gave Emily such a look that it frightened her for moment. Then Angus moved to stand at her elbow and she was overwhelmed by a feeling of security she had not known since before the war. Edgar had given her love and comfort, but she knew he was physically unable to help her if she were truly in danger.

But Angus was there. He would protect her. She didn’t know why, but she felt there was more to his protectiveness than simply that it was expected of him, as she was the countess.

Em went back to Edgar’s bedside and took his hand in hers. Angus wanted to stay but he couldn’t think of a reason to do so now. “If ye’ll not be needing me, milady, I’ll get back to my chores.”

“No, Angus, please stay,” Em answered quickly. “I—I don’t want to be by myself just yet.”

“Of course I’ll stay.” He crossed to the chair he had sat in the night before, next to Edgar’s bedside table. He watched Em closely, she seemed to sway in her chair and could barely keep her eyes open. “Lass, will ye please go and lie down? Ye’re ready to drop. Ye’ll be no good to him when he awakens.”

If she noticed his slip of etiquette by addressing her so informally, she didn’t acknowledge it. “No, I don’t want to leave him.”

The note of finality in her voice stopped Angus from pressing the issue further. Instead, he moved his chair closer and began to massage her shoulders again. She sighed and laid her cheek against one of his hands. They sat in silence for some minutes, then Angus heard voices and the rumble of carriage wheels in the courtyard below.

Em must have heard them too for she rose and went to the window. Angus came to stand behind her. “They’re going. Thank God,” Em said, the relief clear in her voice.

“Aye,” he said, “good riddance to bad rubbish.”

Em giggled then began to laugh outright. Soon, she was laughing so hard she was holding her stomach. Angus chuckled and smiled at her as tears of mirth ran down her face. But gradually, he noticed she was no longer laughing—rather, now, she was crying just as hysterically as she had been laughing. She was still doubled over, clutching her stomach, and Angus caught her before she fell to the floor.