Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood Series Book 4) (15 page)

Trusting the lady’s judgement, Isla climbed onto the four-poster bed. She lay in the middle, her arms by her sides and stared up at a sky of plush burgundy material. “I feel a little foolish just lying here.”

“You must prepare yourself.” Ivana came to stand at her side, bent forward to brush the hair from her brow. “Do you feel any different?”

The mind often conjured imaginary symptoms when one expected to be ill. Of course, her stomach was gurgling, and her hands were shaking, but that could easily be attributed to fear.

“I have a strange taste in my mouth.” Isla ran her tongue over her teeth. “And my stomach feels bloated as though all the fluid from my body is being drawn to one place.”

Ivana reached down and took her hand, clasped it tight. “Hold onto me. Squeeze as hard as you can when you’re struggling to cope with the pain.”

Isla stared up at her. She had known kindness in her life; she knew when a person’s heart was pure and genuine. Ivana was right. When they parted, they would do so as friends. “Let me thank you now, for your caring words and thoughtful—”

A sharp stabbing pain caused her to tug on Ivana’s hand. She tried to roll onto her side to suppress it, but no matter which way she twisted or turned her body it did not subside.

Ivana touched her head. “You feel hot.” Her voice held a hint of panic.

The pain grew in intensity, like a thousand pins being prodded into her body over and over again. Her face became so hot she knew if she licked her finger and dabbed at her cheek she would hear a sizzle.

“H-help me.” The words burst from her lips as she clutched her throat.

She was burning, cooking from the inside out. The Devil had come to claim her. This is what it felt like deep in the fiery pits of Hell.

Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard Lachlan’s voice.

“She has taken the cure already? Why the hell didn’t she wait?” He sounded hurt not angry.

“It doesn’t matter now. Help me to take off her dress,” Ivana snapped.

Isla could feel them tugging and pulling, the motions going some way to distract her mind. She wanted to speak but seemed to have lost the ability to form a word. She wanted to tell him not to worry.

I love you, Lachlan.

A solitary tear trickled down her cheek: an acceptance that this might be her last moment with him. Finding the strength to raise her hand, she felt an instant peace when his palm settled against hers.

But then another wave of pain swept through her, a blistering inferno sucking her down into a black abyss.

Chapter 13

Lachlan loomed over the bed, watching helplessly as Isla squirmed and writhed in agony. “Can we not give her something to help with the pain? A dose of laudanum or one of Malmuirie’s herbal concoctions.”

“We cannot do anything that might interfere with the elixir,” Ivana replied. “In an attempt to help her, we could cause her more harm. It may render the cure ineffective, prolong the healing process.”

Lachlan sighed. Every cry and shriek hurt him like a cleaver to his heart. “I cannot stand here and do nothing.”

“Then mop her brow, talk to her, hold her hand.”

Needing to do something to distract his mind, he rushed over to the washstand, wrung out the cloth that had been soaking in cold water and came back to the bed. With gentle strokes, he wiped her brow, her flushed face and the bright red apples of her cheeks.

“You will wake soon,” he whispered as he continued with his ministrations. “You will wake and all will be well.”

“We must hope that she is fortunate. The pain will be too much to bear. Losing consciousness would be a blessing. Leo’s body refused to surrender. He fought against it for long, torturous hours.” Ivana swallowed visibly, shook her head and dabbed at the corner of her eye. “The memory of that night is far from pleasant.”

Lachlan straightened. “But you would not change it? You do not regret your decision?”

“Oh, no,” she said her countenance brightening. “But, in the end, all that truly mattered was that we could be together.”

Lachlan glanced at Isla. Her golden locks appeared knotted and straggly. Her soft lips were dry and flaky, still tinged red with blood. Just a few hours earlier her face had shone with pleasure, the brilliance of it all almost blinding. Now, her mouth was drawn thin. The dark circles under her eyes made her appear gaunt — a shadow of her former self.

Even so, he found her just as captivating, just as beautiful.

He should have told her that the affliction did not matter to him. Perhaps then she would have chosen to live with the condition. When the time came to leave her home, he could have taken her further north, found an isolated cabin where they’d spend the rest of their days together.

But then he remembered that he would grow old, and she would be forever young.

“Isla wants you to know that she loves you.” Ivana’s words disturbed his reverie. “She will always love you.” She paused. “Am I right to assume that Nikolai saw fit to come between you?”

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to imagine the endearing words falling from Isla’s lips. “Nikolai ruined my life. He ruined everything.” Three years of bitterness and resentment infused his tone.

“You know she had no choice but to marry him. When Nikolai wanted something he took it without questioning his right to do so.”

“I should have tried to stop him.” Knowing he was weak enough to be compelled by a devil did not sit well with him.

Ivana’s eyes flashed with pity. “There is nothing you could have done. Nikolai would have killed you. Of that I am certain.”

Frustration turned to anger.

“I should like to thank the man who put an end to his life.” Lachlan clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “I would bow down before him and swear my undying loyalty.”

A faint smile touched Ivana’s lips. “Then you are in luck. The man you speak of is currently eating boiled ham and eggs with Malmuirie in the kitchen.”

Lachlan jerked his head back. “Your … your coachman killed Nikolai?”

“He did. And what a marvellous sight it was.”

Various images flitted through his mind: an iron spear stabbing at Nikolai’s heart; a steel sword slicing his neck. “Whilst your coachman is a burly fellow, it must have taken more than brute strength to bring the blackguard down.”

“The element of surprise is often the most deadly weapon in one’s arsenal. In Nikolai’s bid for supremacy, he underestimated the power of loyalty. ”

Isla’s sudden heart-wrenching groan captured their attention.

Lachlan took her hand and held it tight. “Shush. All will be well,” he said wincing at the sound.

Ivana bent her head, raised Isla’s top lip and touched her gum. With a huge sigh of relief, she shot up, held out her hand to reveal the small white fang sitting in her palm. “It is good news, Lachlan.”

“Has that fallen from her mouth?” He narrowed his gaze as he examined the strange object.

Ivana nodded. “All those who have taken the cure have gone through a similar process.” She placed the tooth on the side table next to the bed before inspecting the condition of the other fang. It too came away in her hand. “It will not be long now. The loss of her teeth is a sure sign all is well.”

An hour passed.

The shrill cries finally ceased. Isla’s breathing slowed. Fearing the worst, Lachlan put his hand on her chest, relief flooding his body upon feeling the soft rise and fall beneath his palm. Her lids fluttered; she mumbled his name. Her face was much cooler to the touch but still he wiped her brow.

Time slowed. He sat next to the bed, opposite Ivana. They spoke about Isla’s problems with the villagers, how most crimes amount to either jealousy or greed.

Another hour passed.

Isla muttered incoherently for a minute or so. “Come back … come back to me,” were the first words that made any sense to him. Muscles spasmed randomly: her arm jolted; her leg twitched. She shuddered.

Overwhelmed with the need to let her know he was there, he bent his head and gently touched his lips to hers. At first, he thought he imagined her weak response. But as he pulled away, she sucked in a breath and opened her eyes a fraction.

“Isla. Can you hear me?” He brushed the hair from her face, stared at her while he waited for
another sign of life, of success.

“Lachlan.” His name was but a soft whisper from her cracked lips. Struggling with the weight of her lids, it took a few minutes before she opened her eyes fully. Once a little more alert, she blinked rapidly as her gaze darted around the room. “Lachlan.”

“I’m here.” He towered over her, yet she failed to notice his large frame.

She raised her hand; tentative fingers touched his arm, patted nervously at his chest. “It is so dark in here,” she said.

He glanced at the various candles illuminating the room. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Am I dead?”

A weak chuckle fell from his lips: an expression of relief as there was nothing amusing about the situation. “No, my love. You are very much alive.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.

“Then why is it so … so dark?”

Ivana moved closer, waved her hand in front of Isla’s face as she studied her eyes. She shot back. The shock on Ivana’s face caused a feeling of dread to grasp him by the throat and squeeze.

Lachlan stared at Ivana and raised a questioning brow.

The lady shook her head in reply, yet he had no idea what that meant.

“The recovery process can be long and exhausting,” Ivana said. She sat on the edge to the bed, took Isla’s hand and stroked it affectionately. “It is not dark in here, but your eyes are yet to heal fully.”

Isla gasped, tugged her hand from Ivana’s to touch her eyes, her face. “I cannot see. Everything is dark.” She pulled and prodded her lids, blinked too many times to count. “Help me, Lachlan. Help me to sit up.”

“Is that wise?” His words of caution conveyed his conflicting emotions: relief tinged with fear and anguish. “Should you not rest a little longer?”

She put her hand to her throat and shook her head. “No. My throat feels gritty and I … I need to drink.”

Ivana’s bottom lip quivered, and she asked, “Water? Do you need water?”

It occurred to him that she feared Isla would still crave blood.

“Yes,” Isla gasped. “I need water.”

They both took an arm and helped Isla to sit up. Ivana plumped the pillows to support her head while he brought the pitcher and glass. Trying to keep his hand steady he filled the tumbler, only spilling a drop.

“Shall I hold it to your lips?” he asked. Putting the pitcher on the side table, he sat next to her on the bed.

“Put it in my hand.”

He did as she asked but her trembling fingers forced him to cover her hand to help guide the glass. She made no objection but sipped the liquid slowly until she had drained the vessel dry.

“Do you remember anything of the last few hours?” Ivana asked.

Isla’s frown turned into a grimace. “Just that … it was so terrible. I have never experienced such pain. It … it was like being stabbed with skewers whilst being cooked alive.” She shook her head vigorously. “Please, I do not want to speak of it. I do not want to remember.”

Lachlan placed the empty glass next to the pitcher. “And how do you feel now?” He drew his hand roughly down his face but suppressed a sigh. Watching the cure do its work had been torturous.

She contemplated his question. “Still a little weak but the burning pain has subsided.” She looked at a point beyond his shoulder, her pretty blue eyes flitting back and forth as she struggled to focus. “Will … will I regain my sight?”

He caught Ivana’s grim expression, and she said, “I’m sure it will just be a matter of time. While you grew new teeth to cope with the consequences of the affliction, your eyes would have suffered under the strain whenever you changed.”

He watched helplessly as a tear ran down Isla’s cheek. “Perhaps it is the price I must pay for lying with a devil.”

“No!” Ivana cried. “You must not say that. Never say that. You just need to rest for a while longer.”

A light rap on the door disturbed them. Ivana went to investigate. She slipped out into the hallway for a time before returning with Leo.

“There are men waiting outside in the bailey,” Leo said gravely. “Douglas told me you know them and that they live in the village.”

Bloody hell. Ramsey could not have come at a worse time.

“Did they say what they wanted?” Lachlan asked.

“They want to speak to Miss Maclean. They swear they only wish to ask her a few questions about the death of their cattle and to know why she was prowling the village late last night.”

Lachlan muttered a curse. “Tell them she is ill and cannot come down. Tell them she will send for them when she is more able to answer their questions.”

Isla cleared her throat. “I am blind not mute, Lachlan. I can speak for myself.” She shuffled until she was sitting up straight. “Help me up. I must know if the cure has proved successful. If so, I shall go down to the bailey and speak to them.” She waved in the direction of the window. “Open the drapes and pull back the shutters.”