IntoEternity (15 page)

Unimaginable
, Alexander thought, lifting a strand of
her silky hair.
But
what
if…?
His hand froze in midair and
a sick feeling settled in his gut. What if he could not bring her fever down?
It was a common practice to cut the hair short to cool the body. His hand shook
as he thought of having to take his dagger and cut her lovely mane himself.

“Laird?”

Alexander froze at the address. He stared down at the woman
in his bed and the image of another came to his mind, superimposed over that of
his wife. His selkie…his childhood friend, his long-lost little selkie… Augusta
Sinclair, the wee lass from his past, his first true love.

“Laird?”

The longing in her childish voice nearly broke his heart.

“Aye, my little selkie?”

“You will come for me, won’t you? You promise?”

A lump formed in Alexander’s throat at the pleading,
preventing him from answering immediately.

“Aye, Gusty. I promise to come for you,” he finally said,
his voice gruff.

“And we will be together for always?”

“From now into eternity.”

The beautiful smile she gave him and the deep sigh of
contentment was almost his undoing.

“God above!”

Over the years Alexander had not allowed himself to think
about the wee lass on the beach until he found Gusty lost in the woods several
months ago and again on the beach when he had tricked her into their
handfasting. All those years ago a broken promise had shattered his youthful
heart. But now he understood. Malcolm Sinclair had hidden away his bastard
child to keep her from harm and when that danger had come too near he had moved
her to a new hiding place. Alexander understood the measures to which a father
would go to protect his child. He had his own brother’s child in his care now.

Alexander listened to Gusty’s ramblings for some time but he
had trouble understanding her as she kept switching from Gaelic to a dialect of
English he could only assume was used far to the south in the Isles. He
wondered idly as he stroked her smooth white skin if that was where Maeve and
Hagen had hidden her for all those years. It would explain much about her. Like
her odd accent and some of the peculiar things she sometimes said.

He dropped the cloth back into the water and placed the bowl
aside. Grasping her by the hips and shoulders, he eased her over onto her
stomach and then began the procedure again. As he gazed down at her slender
body he realized just how much he had come to care for his new wife.

His wife!

Truly he thought of Gusty as such no matter they were not
wed yet. He considered her his true lifetime mate, his wife, his little selkie.
His deep feelings for her astounded him, considering the short time they’d been
together, but he found he looked forward to all the years they had ahead of
them and the children they would have together. His hand stilled. Did he love
her?

With typical adolescent ardor he had loved the wee lass she
had been, his childhood friend from the beach. Now that youthful sentiment had
blossomed into a man’s passion for the woman he loved.

Alexander stared down at his hands and noticed they were
shaking. Quickly he continued to wipe the wet cloth over her back and hips and
buttocks. The thought of having children had him looking at her delicately
flared hips with a critical eye. He placed his hands over them to measure their
width. Was she capable of having his babe? She seemed so small and fragile and
he was so large. He shook his head in wonder that someday his child would grow
within her womb. The idea pleased him. He would enjoy being a father. His
thoughts wandered as he smoothed the cool, soothing cloth over her hot skin. He
listened with only half an ear to her periodic ramblings, focusing instead on
his future with Gusty. When he had wiped down the length of her body completely
he turned her onto her back again and pulled up the covers, tucking them under
her chin.

Placing a hand on her forehead, Alexander smiled, pleased to
find her skin somewhat cooler to the touch. He took the bowl and moved to put
it back on the washstand but Gusty murmured a few words under her breath, her
tone of voice stopping him in his tracks. What had she said? He turned and
walked back to the bed. At first he thought she had awakened and was talking to
him but then he realized she was still talking in her sleep.

“I’ve had the dream again,” she began then paused as if
waiting for a response.

Alexander made a noncommittal noise, which seemed to satisfy
her, for she went on.

“About
him
… I could see him clearly this time. He was
so very handsome, ruggedly so, not some pretty-boy like those movie-star types.
His hair was long and dark, the color of a raven’s wing…and his eyes! My knees
go weak when I think of the way he looked at me. His eyes are the most striking
silver but warm, not cold like metal. No, they are full of fire and life.”

Again she paused. Alexander had listened in amazement as she
described him but who was she talking to? And when had she dreamed about him?

“Go on.” He coaxed her gently. He should not take advantage
of her in her delirious state but he was curious to hear what else she had to
say and hoped she would mention the name of the person to whom she was speaking
such private thoughts.

A slight smile touched the corner of her generous lips and
then, as if she realized what he was about and planned to punish him, she
switched to her other language—the one Alexander had difficulty understanding.
She talked for some time. Just listening to the lilt of her voice and the way her
words seemed to flow along lyrically was enough to hold his attention, even if
he did not understand most of what she said. Alexander sat down beside her and
gently brushed her hair from her face. Gusty switched back to Gaelic but her
topic of conversation had changed.

“What happened?”

She looked right at him but he sensed she was not seeing him.
Perhaps she addressed some phantom of her dreams. He stayed silent for a long
moment but so did she and he realized she awaited an answer.

“What happened when, Augusta?”

“There was a car accident, I remember part of it but I can’t
seem to recall what happened.” Tears suddenly filled her eyes and her voice
grew very small. “They’re gone aren’t they?”

Alexander didn’t know what to say. If he had any idea what
she was talking about, he might be able to answer her. Car
accident
? He
shook his head, wishing he could discern her meaning.

“Who is gone, Gusty?”

“My grandparents. They were killed. And I should have been
with them.”

“Nay, Gusty.” He growled in her ear with fervor that was too
much to contain. “You should be exactly where you are. You were not killed and
neither were they. And once you are well again, my sweet, I swear I will take
you to visit them but you must get better first. You must.”

“All right, Alexander, I’ll get better, I promise.”

Her words, spoken in such a clear-minded manner, surprised him.
Her eyes were red from the fever but the faraway look had dissipated as she
gazed up at him. He laid his hand on her forehead and found the fever burned
hotter than ever. For the first time in his life he felt helpless and the
notion terrified him. He could do nothing more for her but wait and try to keep
her comfortable. If her fever didn’t break soon, she was in very real danger of
dying. Pushing that horrifying thought from his mind, he wrapped her in the bed
covers, lifted her small, hot body and hastened down to the great hall.

“Davin! Get yourself up and moving! My lady is dying of the
fever. Who is the best healer?”

At Alexander’s frantic words Davin swept back his blanket
and reached for his sword. “There is an old woman at the abbey up the river who
is reputed to be a great healer. She would be the one to go to. On your feet
men, we have a long, hard ride ahead. Get the lads to saddle the horses and be
quick about it.”

Davin moved to Alexander’s side and looked down at Gusty. “She
is strong, my friend. God willing, she will overcome this adversity.”

“I pray you are right, Davin.”

* * * * *

The cold of the hard stone floor was beginning to affect Isabelle.
The chill seeped through the layers of her woolen gown and underskirt, causing
her old knees to ache. She would be fortunate if she made it back to her feet
after Martin prayers. Perhaps the others would not notice if she made no
attempt to rise. Would anyone even care if she stayed on her knees until Complines?
The idea was almost worth considering but if she stayed on her knees in the
chapel for that many hours, though it might look as if she was truly devout she
would never walk again. As it was, her legs—especially her knees—gave her much
trouble in that manner. So Isabelle finished up her prayers, automatically
repeating the same chants and phrases she had said for many years. The other
women’s voices mingled with hers as they finished with a dedicated, “Amen.”

With cracking and popping joints and stinging pains running
down the length of her legs, she forced herself to her feet. No one spoke as
the bell tolled and the chapel quickly cleared, the many robed figures moving
on quiet, shuffling feet anxious to get to their evening meal. She had become a
bit slower over the past few years, not one to hurry, and even if she were, she
would not be able to get there any faster. When she finally reached the chapel
door she did not follow the long, dark hallway that led to her cell. Instead
she made her way to a more cheerful wing of the convent house.

Isabelle’s workroom was still warm from the fire that had
been burning already for hours. An extravagance but she was not under as strict
of rules as the other residents were. She was given a reprieve for her bad legs
and the warmth of the fire helped ease her pain. In return for the few extra
comforts she gave exemplary service to the Sisters and the surrounding
community. She lit a thick beeswax candle, a true luxury, to brighten her
worktable, thinking to spend an hour sorting and crushing herbs in preparation
for morning and the long line of sick folk waiting at the gates.

Her reputation had grown far beyond the abbey walls and various
aspects of her work kept her busy. Over the years her responsibility as a
healer had become her salvation in the lonely existence she had come to know.
She lived between worlds here. Not a true member of the religious community
that tolerated her but unable ever to return to the life she’d once known outside
these walls. She sighed and then smiled slightly as she thought of the one
aspect of her life that was hers alone to treasure. And with him at her beck
and call she was content.

With slow, practiced movements she tied fresh bunches of
fresh herbs together to hang on her drying rack. The next few months would be
demanding as her garden produced an abundance of flowers and plants that needed
to be harvested and preserved. Tomorrow after spending the morning caring for
the sick she planned to spend the afternoon gathering what she could before the
next rain threatened.

At the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hallway her
hands stilled. She frowned. As late as is was there should have been no one
roaming the halls of the abbey. The door suddenly swung open and two very tall,
very broad-shouldered men stood in the entrance of her workroom, one of them
holding a small bundle tightly against his chest. At first she thought he
carried a child but when he stepped forward she could see it was a young woman.
Isabelle’s startled glance flew up to meet a piercing silver gaze. His eyes
held fear and pleading. The Highlander’s haggard expression told her the
situation was dire. She cleared the long worktable and motioned for him to lay the
woman on the tabletop.

“I am Alexander—Laird Sutherland…and this is my wife. She is
ill, burning up with fever. I was told you were a great healer. Can you help
her?”

The young laird met her gaze, his eyes reflecting intense
pain.

He
loves
her
dearly
, Isabelle
thought.

“Please, madam, help her.” The man set his wife’s limp body
on the table.

“I will see what I can do. Now step back and let me have a
look at her.”

With nimble fingers the old woman worked quickly and
diligently, whispering under her breath the entire time she examined Gusty. As
he waited anxiously Alexander tried to hear what she was saying but she spoke too
softly. Finally she raised her head and looked at him.

“You did well to bring her here. Her fever has already
lessened.”

Stunned at the announcement Alexander shook his head in
denial as he gazed into her incredibly exquisite and remarkably familiar eyes. “The
fever is lessening? But how can that be?”

“Yes…how can that be? Only moments ago my lady was burning
up.” Davin moved to stand next to Alexander, staring at the woman on the table
as if trying to find an answer just by looking at her.

Isabelle smiled gently and lowered her gaze to her patient. “I
believe your journey here has actually saved your woman’s life.”

“That is why we brought her to you.”

“I know…but I did not save her.”

“What then?”

“I would say the exposure to the cold night air during your
long ride helped draw out the heat. I will put her to bed and give her a
restorative to keep the fever down. She will be much improved by dawn.”

Alexander silently rejoiced at the old woman’s words. He had
deliberated long and hard about this journey, worrying the ride in the night
air would do grave harm. He knelt beside the table, took Gusty’s hand in one of
his and placed his other hand on her cooling forehead. It was indeed true! He
could feel the difference in her.

“Thank you.” The words didn’t seem enough but the ones he
would have liked to say stuck in his throat. His friend’s hand on his shoulder
reassured him he was not the only one who was moved by the knowledge that his
lady was going to recover.