The Heiress Bride (27 page)

The shouting brought her back with a lurch of pain. Douglas shouted like that but she knew it wasn't Douglas. No, he was far away. She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of something that was very close to her but still unseen; she was drawn to it, yet still wary of it. It was strangely seductive.

The man's voice came again, a loud, horribly grating voice that made her brain pound. She hated it; she wanted to scream at him to be quiet. She stepped back from the edge, so angry at the interference that she even opened her eyes, wanting to protest, to yell at the man. She opened her mouth but didn't make a sound. She was looking up at the most beautiful man she'd ever seen in her life. Her mind absorbed his image, his black hair and incredible dark blue eyes, and that cleft in his chin, and she managed to say in a raw whisper, “You are so beautiful,” then she closed her eyes again, for she knew he must be an angel and she was here in heaven, and she wasn't alone, and for that she was grateful.

“Damn you, open your eyes! I'm not beautiful, you little twit. Good God, I haven't even shaved!”

“An angel doesn't curse,” she said clearly, and once again forced her eyes open.

“I'm not an angel, I'm your bloody husband! Wake up, Sinjun, and do it now! I won't have any more of
your lazing about! No more dramatics, do you hear me? Wake up, damn your Sherbrooke eyes. Come back to me and do it now, else I'll beat you.”

“Bloody husband,” she repeated slowly. “No, you're right, I must come back. I can't let Colin die. I don't want him to die, not ever. He has to be saved, and I'm the only one to do it. He's too honorable to save himself. He isn't ruthless and only I can save him.”

“Then don't leave me! You can't save me if you die, you understand me?”

“Yes,” she said, “I understand.”

“Good. Now, I'm going to pick you up and I want you to drink. All right?”

She managed a nod. She felt a strong arm beneath her back and felt the cold glass touch her lips. She drank and drank and the water was ambrosia. It ran down her chin, soaking into her nightgown, but she was so very thirsty nothing mattered but the sweet water trickling down her throat.

“There, enough for now. Listen to me. I'm going to bathe you and get that fever down. Do you understand me? Your fever's too high and I've got to get it down. But you won't sleep again, do you understand me? Tell me you understand!”

She did, but then it escaped her. Her brain tripped off in another direction when she heard a woman's shrill voice say, “She worsened suddenly. I was just on the point of fetching that old fool Childress when you came, Colin. It isn't my fault she got sicker. She was nearly well before.”

Sinjun moaned because she was afraid. She tried to pull away from that woman, tried to curl up in a ball and hide from her. The beautiful man who wasn't an angel said in a very calm voice, “Leave, Arleth. I don't want you inside this room again. Go now.”

“She'll lie to you, the little bitch! I've known you all your life. You can't take her side against me!”

She heard his voice come again, but he was pulling away from her.

Then there was blessed silence. She suddenly felt a cool wet cloth on her face and she tried to lean upward to bury her face in it, but there was his voice again, this time soothing and so gentle, telling her to lie still, that he would see to it that she felt better. “Trust me,” he said, “trust me.” And she did. He would keep the woman away from her.

She heard the other man, the one with the old voice, the soft voice, saying, “Keep that up, my lord. Wipe her down until the fever lessens. Every several hours, make her drink as much as she'll take.”

She felt the cool air touch her skin. She vaguely realized that someone was taking off the sweaty nightgown, and she was thankful for it, for quite suddenly she felt the itchiness of her skin. She felt the wet cloth wipe over her breasts and ribs. But it didn't go deep enough. She was still so very hot, deeper inside, and the wonderful cold of the cloth didn't reach it. She tried to arch her back to bring the cloth closer.

She felt a man's hands on her arms, pushing her back down, and he was saying quietly now, that beautiful man, “Hush, I know it burns. I had a very bad fever once, as you well know, and I felt as if I were in flames on the inside, where nothing could reach, and I was burning from the inside out.”

“Yes,” she said.

“I'll keep doing this until that burning is gone, I promise you.”

“Colin,” she said, and she opened her eyes and smiled at him. “You're not an angel. You're my bloody husband. I'm so glad you're here.”

“Yes,” he said, and felt something powerful move
inside him. “I won't leave you again, no matter what.”

It seemed then she must make him understand. She tried to lift her hand to touch his face, to gain his attention, and her voice was hurtling from her throat, the words raw and ugly. “You must leave, it's safer for you. I didn't want you to come back until I'd taken care of him. He's a weasel and he would hurt you. I must protect you.”

That made Colin frown. What the devil was she talking about? Who, for God's sake? She closed her eyes again and he continued to wipe her down, from her face to her toes. When he turned her onto her stomach, she moaned softly, then sprawled boneless on the sheets.

He continued rubbing her with the damp cloth until she was cool to the touch. He closed his eyes for a moment, praying for her and praying for himself, that God would find him ample enough in grace to listen to him. Finally the fever was down. “Please, God, please let her be all right,” he said aloud in the silent bedchamber, a litany now.

He covered her when he heard the bedchamber door open.

“My lord?”

It was the physician. Colin turned, saying, “The fever is down.”

“Excellent. It will rise again, doubtless, but you will handle it. Your son is sleeping on the floor outside the door. Your daughter is sitting beside him, sucking on her thumb and looking very worried.”

“As soon as I've put my wife in a nightgown, I will see to my children. Thank you, Childress. Will you remain here at the castle?”

“Yes, my lord. If she will survive, we'll know by tomorrow.”

“She will survive. She's tough. You will see. Besides, she has a powerful incentive—she's got to protect me.”

And he laughed.

 

Sinjun heard the woman's voice and she knew deep sudden fear. She was afraid to move, afraid to open her eyes. The voice was vicious and mean.

It was Aunt Arleth.

“So you're not dead yet, you little slut. Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we? No, no use you struggling, you're weak as a gnat. Your precious husband, the young fool, left you. Aye, left you to my tender mercies, and you'll get them, my girl, oh aye, you'll get them.”

“Aunt Arleth,” Sinjun said as she opened her eyes. “Why do you want me dead?”

Aunt Arleth continued speaking, her voice softer now, running on and on, the words melting together. “I must move quickly, quickly. He'll be back, doubt it not, the young fool. He doesn't want you, how could he? You're a Sassenach, not one of us. Aye, perhaps I must needs place this lovely soft pillow over your face. Yes, that will do it. That will send you away from here. No, you don't belong here, you're an outsider, a no-account. Yes, the pillow. No, that's too obvious. I must be more cunning. But I must act, else you might live to spite me. Aye, you'd make my life even more a misery, wouldn't you? I know your sort—vicious and mean and not to be trusted. Aye, and pushy, treating us all like worthless savages and taking over. I must do something or we're all lost. Even now you're planning to send me away.”

“Aunt Arleth, why are you in here?”

She whirled about to see Philip standing in the open doorway, his hands fisted on his hips. “Papa
told you to stay away from here. Get away from her, Aunt.”

“Ah, you wretched little giblet. You ruined everything. You're a disgrace to me, Philip. I'm taking care of her. Why else would I be here? Go away, boy, just go away. You can go fetch your papa. Yes, go get the bloody laird.”

“No, I will stay here. 'Tis you who will leave, Aunt. My papa isn't a bloody laird, he's
the
laird and he's the very best.”

“Ha! Little you know what
he
is! Little you know how his mother—aye, my own sister and your grandmother—played her husband false and fell in with a kelpie, aye, a kelpie she called up from the devil himself to dwell in Loch Leven. He became a man in the form of her husband, but he wasn't her husband because it was me he loved, and he didn't look at her anymore. No, the man she fornicated with wasn't her husband, for the real laird was mine in all ways. Hers was this kelpie and he was one of Satan's minions, a false image, evil through and through, and the son she bore this false husband was Colin and he is as evil and bone-deep blighted as was his kelpie father.”

Philip didn't begin to understand her. He prayed his father would come, and quickly, or Mrs. Seton or Crocker, anyone, anyone. Please God, bring someone. Aunt Arleth was agay wi' her wits, as Old Alger the barrel maker was wont to say.

Philip was afraid; he didn't see any of his fervent prayers being answered. Aunt Arleth was moving toward Sinjun. He dashed forward, hurling himself up onto the bed next to his stepmother, covering her body with his, trying to shield her from Aunt Arleth.

“Sinjun!” he shouted, grabbing her arms and shaking her. He shouted her name again, and this time
she opened her eyes and stared up at him.

“Philip? Is that you? Is she gone yet?”

“No, she isn't, Sinjun. You must stay awake now. You must.”

“Get out of here, boy!”

“Oh God,” Sinjun whispered.

“And did you know, you silly boy, that her real husband—your grandfather—put a rowan cross over the door to keep her from entering? He knew she was fornicating with a kelpie. Ah, but Satan had sent a charm that protected her even from the rowan cross.”

“Please go away, Aunt.”

Aunt Arleth drew herself up and slowly stared from the boy to the woman who lay on the bed, those damned covers to her chin. Her eyes were open and filled with fear. It pleased Arleth to see that fear.

“You fetched your pa. You filled his ears with lies, aye, you brought him back with lies, you made him feel guilt. He didn't want to come back, you know. He wants her to leave. He has her money, so why bother with the likes of her?”

“Please go away, Aunt.”

“I heard you speaking of a rowan cross and kelpies. Hello, Aunt, Philip. How is Joan?”

Philip jumped at the sound of Serena's voice. She'd glided up silent as a ghost to stand beside him at the edge of the bed. “Her name is Sinjun. Take Aunt Arleth away from here, Serena.”

“Why ever for, my dear boy? Now, about the rowan cross. They are nasty things, you know, Aunt. I detest them. Why would you speak of them? I'm a witch, true, but the rowan cross has no effect on me.”

Philip wondered if he wasn't losing his wits. He wasn't afraid now. No matter what else Serena was, she wouldn't allow Aunt Arleth to hurt Sinjun.

“Go away, Serena, else I'll crown you with a rowan cross!”

“Oh no you won't, Aunt. You can't hurt me and well you know it. I'll always be too strong for you, and too good.”

Aunt Arleth looked pale and furious, colder than the loch in January.

Then, to Philip's utter relief, his father strode into the room. He stopped short and frowned at his son, who was hovering on the bed next to Joan as if he were protecting her, for God's sake. Serena was looking vague and beautiful, like a fairy princess who had mistakenly stepped into Bedlam and didn't know what to do.

As for Aunt Arleth, there was no expression at all on her thin face. She was looking down at her pale hands, at the age spots that dotted the backs.

“Colin?”

He smiled now and walked to the bed. Sinjun was awake and had her wits about her, finally. “Hello, Joan. You're back again. I'm pleased with you.”

“What's a kelpie?”

“An evil being that lives in lochs and inland lakes. He can assume different forms. He gets his power from the devil. It's an interesting question. Why do you wish to know?”

“I don't know. The word just kept coming into my mind. Thank you. May I have some water?”

It was Philip who helped her to drink. “Hello to you,” she said to him. “What's wrong, Philip? Do I look that horrid?”

The boy lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek. “Oh no, Sinjun, you look fine. You're better, aren't you?”

“Yes. You know something? I'm hungry.” She looked at Aunt Arleth and said, “You dislike me
and you wish me ill. I don't understand you. I've done nothing to harm you.”

“This is my house, missy! I will—”

Colin said mildly, “No, Aunt Arleth. You will stay away. No more from you.” He watched her leave the room, slowly, unwillingly, and he was afraid that her mind, tenuous at best, was losing its meager hold. He turned back to hear his wife say to Philip, “Get me the pocket pistol, Philip. It's in the pocket of my riding habit. Put it under my pillow.”