Highland Warrior (34 page)
Authors: Connie Mason
She was still trembling as she walked to her chamber. Suddenly she stopped and glanced around her. She had the strange sensation that she was being watched, yet the corridor was empty.
“If that’s you, Gizela, show yourself,” Gillian said.
When Gizela failed to appear, Gillian decided she was imagining things and continued on to her chamber. Alice smiled at her when she entered, but her smile changed to concern when she saw Gillian’s pale face.
“Are you ill, my lady?” Alice asked solicitously.
“My breakfast didna agree with me, Alice. ’Tis naught to worry about. Mayhap I’ll lie down for a while and take my midday meal in my chamber.”
“Can I bring you anything?”
“A piece of dry toasted bread might help settle my stomach.”
Alice helped Gillian out of her gown and into bed before she left. Gillian closed her eyes and reviewed in her mind everything Ross had said and done last night. He’d said naught about visiting the McHamish today. She consoled herself with the knowledge that no one had known there would be a break in the weather.
Still, Ross wouldn’t leave in unpredictable weather unless he believed she had lied about her reasons for being with Angus Sinclair and sought to question McHamish about it.
Gillian’s weary mind shut down as sleep claimed her. She slept until midafternoon and awoke hungry. She found the toasted bread Alice had left, along with two bannocks, and ate every bite, deciding it would hold her until the evening meal. Donning her chamber robe, Gillian remained in her room the rest of the day, finally dressing when Alice arrived shortly before the evening meal.
When Gillian left her chamber, she again felt as if she were being watched. Hackles rose on the back of her neck as she proceeded toward the stairs. Did someone wish her harm? Did the anxiety she was experiencing have anything to do with her pregnancy? She’d have to ask Gizela about it the next time she saw her. Gillian gave a sigh of relief when she reached the hall and was safely seated beside Gordo.
Another tense moment arrived when Seana made a belated appearance and seated herself on the other side of Gordo. But since Seana didn’t attempt to converse with her, Gillian relaxed and enjoyed her meal without the digestive discomfort she had suffered early that morning. Since Gillian saw no softening toward her from Ross’s kinsmen, she excused herself immediately after she had eaten. She felt Seana’s narrowed gaze follow her from the hall and hastened her steps. She didn’t sleep well that night.
Since breakfast was nearly always a disaster for Gillian’s newly delicate digestion, she chose not to show her discomfort in front of Ross’s kinsmen and ate both breakfast and the midday meal in her chamber the next two days. By dinnertime she was usually ready to venture down to the hall to sup.
However, the sensation of being watched, of some unknown danger threatening her, did not disappear. If anything, it increased. But today of all days Gillian was determined to sup in the hall, for Gordo had told her that he expected Ross to return in time for the evening meal.
After an absence of several days, Gizela showed up in Gillian’s chamber as Alice was helping her dress that evening.
“Where have you been?” Gillian asked. “I havena see you for days, and I wanted to seek your advice.”
“I’m sorry, lass, but a woman in the village was having a hard time giving birth. I was summoned the day the laird left and didna return until I was certain the bairn would live. Heed me well, lass, for I bring a warning.”
Gillian forgot her own misgivings when she heard Gizela’s words. “What kind of warning?”
“You are in grave danger. ’Ware the darkness.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Gizela closed her eyes. “I see darkness; I see danger, I see someone trying to snuff out the flame.”
“You are frightening Gillian,” Alice chided. “Go away, Gizela. Bring your doom and gloom to someone else.”
“The laird returns tonight,” Gizela said as she hobbled off.
“Pay her no heed, Gillian,” Alice soothed. She peered closely at Gillian. “Gizela has upset you. Forget her. Go down and greet the laird.”
Wearing her best gown and wrapped warmly in her plaid, Gillian left her chamber in a state of high anticipation. Now that Ross had learned the truth from McHamish, he would have no reason to accuse her of being unfaithful.
The first thing Gillian noticed was the noise wafting up the staircase. Then she recognized Ross’s voice. The next thing she became aware of was the lack of light in the corridor. The torch in the wall sconce was unlit. She made a mental note to tell Donald as she paused at the top of the winding stone staircase.
Then she heard a whisper of sound behind her, and Gizela’s warning hit her hard. She sensed danger, smelled it in the air, saw it in the shifting shadows around her. Before she could react, she felt something slam into her back. She swayed precariously and then lost her balance. As she hurtled headlong down the stairs, she screamed and crossed her arms over her stomach to protect her bairn.
Meanwhile, below in the hall, Ross warmed himself beside the hearth, telling Gordo about his conversation with McHamish. He had scarcely begun speaking when Gizela appeared beside him and tugged on his sleeve. He tried to shake her off, but she clung tenaciously.
“Hurry, laird,” she pleaded. “If you doona come now, you will be too late to save the flame and the spark that grows within her.”
“I am speaking to my kinsman, Gizela. I will make time for you later.”
“The time is now, laird,” Gizela persisted. “If you tarry a moment longer, it will be too late to save them.”
Ross’s temper flared. “Gizela,
I—
”
I—
”
“Mayhap you should see what she wants,” Gordo suggested. “She looks distraught. We can continue our conversation later.”
Ross sighed and nodded. “Lead the way, Gizela. There had better be a good reason for this.”
Gizela made no reply as she flew from the hall. As he neared the bottom of the staircase he heard an ungodly scream, and knew immediately that Gillian was in trouble. Pushing Gizela aside, he bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time. When he saw Gillian falling toward him, he braced himself and caught her in his arms.
Though she had tumbled down but a few steps from the top landing before he had scooped her into his arms, Ross feared she might be badly hurt. But his concern now was to keep himself steady so that he wouldn’t stumble backward with Gillian.
Suddenly Gordo and Donald were at his back, their hands keeping him upright as he fought for balance.
“Steady, lad. We heard a scream and came as fast as we could,” Gordo explained. “What happened?”
“I doona know yet.” He looked down at Gillian. Her face was white, drained of all color, and her eyes were closed. “She’s in no condition to talk right now. You can let go, Uncle. I’m steady enough to carry Gillian to our chamber now. Where is Gizela? I want to thank her.”
“She wasna on the staircase,” Gordo said. “Mayhap the old crone isna barmy after all. Do you need help?”
“I can manage, but fetch Alice, and see if you can find Gizela. Gillian will have need of them.”
His balance restored, Ross continued up the stairs. His concern grew when Gillian clutched her stomach and groaned.
“Are you hurt, lass?” Ross asked anxiously.
Gillian opened her eyes. Ross noted that they were glazed with pain and shock. “The bairn,” she whispered. Her words were barely audible; Ross thought he had misheard her.
Ross was not surprised when he found Gizela waiting for him in the bedchamber. The healer always seemed to turn up when she was needed. “Put her on the bed,” Gizela ordered. “Be careful, laird; she is verra delicate.”
Ross placed Gillian in the center of the bed and stepped aside. He’d allow Gizela to examine Gillian, but he wasn’t going to leave her. He watched in consternation as Gizela gently prodded Gillian’s stomach and carefully felt her limbs for broken bones while speaking softly to her. Ross neither heard what she was saying nor Gillian’s replies. Gizela clucked her tongue when she felt the bump on Gillian’s forehead.
Impatience rode Ross. “Well?” he asked.
“By God’s grace there are no broken bones, though she might have suffered a concussion. Time will tell.”
Ross allowed himself to breathe, until he noticed Gizela’s grave expression. He pulled her aside, far enough away so Gillian couldn’t hear them. “What is it? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“There is a chance she might lose the bairn.”
“Bairn? What bairn?”
“Didna Gillian tell you?”
There were no words to express his feelings, so he simply shook his head.
He glanced over at Gillian, saw that her eyes were open, and returned to her bedside. Gizela followed.
Gillian’s eyes darted between Ross and Gizela, finally settling on Gizela. “My bairn, is he all right?”
“He clings tenaciously to life, lass,” Gizela replied. “I will prepare an herbal tea to help keep him safe within you.”
She hastened from the chamber, leaving Ross alone with Gillian.
“You took a nasty fall,” he said. His gaze shifted from her face to her stomach. “Thank God you didna break any bones.”
“I didna fall. I was pushed.”
“God’s bones! Who would do such a thing? Tell me and I will see him punished.”
“I canna say, for the attack came from behind,” Gillian said shakily. “I thank God you arrived when you did.”
“Nay, thank Gizela. Are you sure you didna trip on the hem of your gown?”
“I didna trip.”
His expression hardened. “If someone pushed you, I will find and punish the culprit.” He gazed into her eyes, his own troubled. “Why did you nae tell me?”
Gillian knew what he was asking. “You werena ready to hear it.”
A long silence ensued. When he finally spoke, his voice was harsher than he intended. “Is the bairn mine?”
Gillian paled. “If I had my sword, I would run you through for that.”
Ross wanted to call back his words the moment they had left his lips. He knew not what devil made him accuse her unjustly. Having spoken to McHamish, he knew Gillian had indeed meant to kill Sinclair.
“Forgive me, my love.”
No answer was forthcoming; Gillian had lost consciousness.
Chapter Seventeen
Ross began chafing Gillian’s wrists and softly calling her name. What had he done to her? After learning he was to become a father, he had deliberately insulted her. He was a witless fool. How could he treat the woman he loved in such a vile manner?
All the breath was sucked out of him. Did he love Gillian? God in heaven, was it possible? He hadn’t truly realized it until he had nearly lost her. Life without his warrior wife would be unbearably boring. It was true—Gillian had found a place in his heart against all odds, and if she forgave him, he would be forever grateful.
Ross breathed a sigh of relief when Gizela returned with the herbal tea she had brewed for Gillian. Alice followed, carrying a basin filled with melting snow and clean cloths.
“She isna responding,” Ross explained on a rising note of panic. He couldn’t lose Gillian now. “What’s the matter with her?”
“She’s unconscious but alive, laird. I’ve brought snow for her head wound. The cold water should bring the swelling down.”
She dipped a cloth in the icy crystals, wrung it out, and placed it on the lump growing on Gillian’s forehead. Then Gizela and Alice moved together to disrobe the unconscious woman.
“Gillian may have bruises that need treating with yarrow salve. Stand aside, laird.”
Ross refused to budge. “I will assist Gizela, Alice. You can fetch a night rail for my wife.”
Without waiting for Gizela’s permission, Ross carefully began removing Gillian’s clothing, wincing in sympathy as each new bruise was uncovered.
“ ’Tis not so bad,” Gizela said as she spread a thick layer of salve on Gillian’s bruised right shoulder, right hip, and scraped knee, then covered them with bandages. “I’m more concerned about the bairn than the bruises.”
Ross’s thoughts ran amok as he helped Gizela pull over Gillian’s head the night rail Alice had fetched. Why hadn’t Gillian told him about the bairn?
“Gillian, can you hear me?” Ross asked anxiously. “Doona leave me, lass.”
Gillian opened her eyes. They were focused, and she seemed alert. Gizela nodded, apparently satisfied with her response. “No concussion, laird. Now all we have to worry about is keeping the bairn inside her, where it belongs.” She reached for the steaming mug of tea and brought it to Gillian’s lips. “Drink, lass. ’Tis a special brew to keep you from miscarrying.”
Gillian slid a glance at Ross, opened her mouth as if to say something, but was stopped when Gizela brought the mug of tea to her lips, forcing her to drink. When the mug was empty, she lay back and closed her eyes.
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