The Pocket Watch (13 page)

Logan bellowed for help as he knelt beside Maggie, turning her over and cradling her in his arms.

Her eyes fluttered. “Logan,” she whispered.

“Oh, my sweet lass, I am so sorry.”

“Not yer fault,” she whispered.

Dear God, he was losing her. This remarkable woman who he loved more than his next breath, who had likely just saved his life, now lay dying in his arms. He wanted to beg her to hang on, to fight, but he couldn’t. He knew there was only one way to ensure she lived. “Maggie, ye need to say the word now.”

She looked up at him, confusion clouding her expression.

“The word, Maggie. The one that will take ye home. Ye still have time, say it.”

“Nay, I want to stay…with ye.” She took a ragged breath. “I love ye.”

Several tears slipped down his cheeks. “My darling lass, I love ye too. I can’t bear to lose ye, but I fear…I fear…please, say the word while ye still can.”

Her beautiful blue eyes locked on his. “Nay, Logan. I would rather die…here in yer arms…than live the rest of my life without ye.”

“Dammit Maggie, don’t do this. Say the word.”

She closed her eyes.

Where the hell was everyone? He scooped her into his arms and ran from the garden.

~ * ~

Maggie’s thoughts became jumbled. The pain in her back was intense. It hurt to breathe. She was vaguely aware of Logan shouting orders as he carried her to the keep. Her surroundings came in and out of focus. Logan’s mother was there…and her mother…no her mother couldn’t be there. She blinked her eyes to clear her head. They were in her bed chamber and Logan lowered her gently to the bed, positioning her on her right side.
That’s good. I need sleep
.

Logan whispered, “I’m begging ye, Maggie, say the word.”

Say the word?
Nay, she wouldn’t do that. She would sleep though. She closed her eyes and drifted off.

She hadn’t dozed long when she woke to the sharp pain of someone palpating her back.

“Ye did well, leaving the dirk in until I got here. It may have slowed the bleeding.” It was Bearnas’ voice. “But it looks like she’s lost a lot of blood anyway.”

“Is there anything ye can do?” Logan’s voice sounded tight and strained.

“Laird, if the knife had gone in straight it would have pierced her heart, but it went in at an angle and feels as if it is lodged in bone, probably her shoulder blade.”

“That’s good, aye?”

“Aye, it missed her heart. But because of the angle, the wound is deep and I may not be able to stop the bleeding when I remove the dirk.”

A strangled sob from the other side of the bed caused Maggie to open her eyes. A man knelt beside her. He was familiar but she couldn’t quite remember. He reached to take her hand. “Margaret, my wee lass, hold on. I can’t bear to lose ye.”

Margaret’s father. That’s who he was. She squeezed his hand with what little strength she had. “I will, Da,” she whispered.

Bearnas said, “Maggie, lass, I need ye to be strong now. I’ll get the needle and thread ready. Laird, ye’ll need to hold her while I remove the knife and sew up the wound.”

“Use whisky,” Maggie whispered.

“Ye want a dram before I start?” asked Bearnas.

“Nay. Soak the needle and thread in it…pour it on the wound.”

“By the saints, lass, why would I do that.”

“It helps stop…” what was the word? “It may prevent…festering.”

“Bearnas, Maggie knows what she’s talking about. Do it,” said Logan.

Moments later Maggie wondered at the wisdom of her instructions. Fiery pain sluiced through her as Bearnas doused the wound with whisky. It was more painful than she had imagined possible. She wanted to scream, but she hadn’t the strength. She prayed she would pass out so as to be released from the searing agony, but she remained stubbornly conscious.

“Hold her now, Laird. It may take a bit of force to dislodge the blade from the bone.”

Logan knelt behind her and slipped one arm under her right shoulder, reaching around her chest to grip her left shoulder. He placed his other hand on her back, below where the knife rested.

Maggie felt Bearnas pull on the knife. As Bearnas had feared, it didn’t come easily. The pain radiated through Maggie’s shoulder as Bearnas pulled. Then suddenly it gave way.

She heard Bearnas gasp and press hard on the wound. Maggie could feel the warm blood trickling down her back. Her brain was growing foggy again.

Laird Grant gripped her hand. “Margaret, stay with me, lass.”

But Logan kissed her temple whispering, “Say the word, Maggie.”

The word? “Nay.”

With that she slipped into oblivion.

~ * ~

When Maggie woke, she was lying on her stomach. She had no idea how much time had passed. She felt terrible. The wound in her back throbbed, but worse, she was weak and so hot, her skin burned as if licked by flames. She had a fever and some part of her brain told her she needed fluids. She opened eyes. The room was dark save for the light of several candles. Her eyes met the worried, storm grey eyes of the man she loved.

“Logan,” she whispered over dry cracked lips.

“Oh, Maggie, my sweet lass.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“Aye, sweetling, let me help ye.”

He turned her gently over, then slipped an arm under her, raising her head so she could drink. The cool water tasted good. After she had taken several sips, he asked, “Do ye think ye could swallow some broth? Bearnas said it is the best thing for someone who has lost a lot of blood.”

“Aye, she is right.” At least in the absence of intravenous fluids and transfusions.

He helped her drink some rich broth until she could swallow no more. Then he lowered her back down, positioning her on her right side. “Are ye comfortable?”

“Aye, as much as can be expected.”

“Bearnas will probably have my head for not waking her as soon as ye woke. She’s just in the next room. But Maggie, I want to speak with ye alone.”

“Logan, I am staying.”

He shook his head in frustration. “Ye have lost an enormous amount of blood for such a wee thing. A fever is setting in. I fear for yer life, my love. I let ye down. I didn’t protect ye, but I can’t bear the thought of ye dying when ye don’t have to.”

“Ye didn’t let me down. Why would ye think that? He was Margaret’s clansman…and he loved her. There was no reason to think he would harm us.”

“He didn’t intend to harm
us
. He intended to
kill
me. Ye were just fool enough to take the blade instead. Ye saved my life, Maggie.” He caressed her cheek.

She leaned her head into his caress. “I love ye Logan.”

“And I love ye—with everything in me, I love ye. But, please, Maggie, the fever will get worse. Much worse. And ye are so very weak already. Ye must go home where ye’ll be safe.”

“Nay, Logan. Losing ye forever would truly kill me.”

“But maybe this is what was meant to be. Maybe this happened because Margaret cheated death once and the time is up. Maybe ye were never meant to stay.”

“I don’t believe that. Gertrude said the decision to return was mine. She wouldn’t have given me a choice if there was none.”

“How can ye be sure of that? She was a stranger to ye. Perhaps she was evil…a witch.”

“There is no such thing as witches. And Gertrude was—I can’t explain it but I am certain she was not evil.”

He started to argue with her. “Nay, Logan. I am meant to be here with ye. And I will live through this.”

The pain in his expression was nearly palpable. He leaned down and kissed her ever so gently.

“Ye’ll see…” she whispered.

~ * ~

Just like that, she slipped away again. Logan kissed her forehead. “Please, God, please let it be so. Help her through this. Ye brought her to me and ye let me love her. Please don’t take her away.”

Chapter 12

Logan maintained his vigil with Bearnas at Maggie’s bedside. His mother, Margaret’s father, and even his grandmother also stayed with them for long stretches. They encouraged Logan to rest, but he refused to leave. As he had predicted, her condition worsened. She woke often, feverish and confused. Each time Bearnas worked to get Maggie to swallow as much broth or water as she could.

However, occasionally Maggie woke and seemed lucid. These were the moments he waited for. Each time he begged her quietly to say the word, to save her life. Each time she said, “Nay, Logan.”

Maggie’s periods of delirium puzzled the others. She spoke of Elliott, Amanda, Gertrude and Paige. When his mother and Maggie’s father looked to him for an explanation, he shrugged and said, “It’s the fever.”

Still, her feverish babble was preferable to silence. Often she lay so still the bedclothes barely moved as she breathed. It was during these moments when cold, raw fear gripped Logan’s heart. He watched from breath to breath, fearing that he wouldn’t see another.

Late in the evening of the third day, the day they were to have been married, she began talking as if to her mother, but Margaret Grant would never have said the things Maggie said. Margaret’s mother had died giving birth to her.

“Mama, ye’re back.”

Laird Grant looked at Lady Davina. “Does she mean ye?”

Logan’s mother frowned. “She must. But she has never called me ‘mama’ before.” She crossed the room and took Maggie’s hand in hers. “Maggie, rest child.”

Logan remained silent. If his mother believed Maggie, in her delirium, was speaking to her maybe they would ask no questions.

“I love ye, Mama, and I’ve missed ye so much.”

“Lass, I’ve been here all evening.”

Maggie seemed to look right through his mother. “But, how did ye find me here?”

His mother looked confused. “Sweetling, I don’t understand.”

“It hurts so much. I’m glad ye’re here.” Tears welled in Maggie’s eyes. “Mama, please don’t tell me to go home. I know Da probably needs me, but…”

Laird Grant, who sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, reached across to take her hand. “Margaret, I’m here too, little one. Rest easy now. Ye needn’t worry about a thing.”

“But when ye were sick, Mama…”

His mother frowned and looked at Logan. “What is she talking about?”

“I’m not sure, mother.” How could he explain this?

The tears slipped down Maggie’s cheeks. “Aye, I do want to stay. I love him so much. I wish ye could meet him, Mama.” Her eyes found his and she smiled. “Aye, that’s him. He’s worried. He knows I’m not Margaret and he loves me, but he thinks I should go home. He keeps asking me to say the word, but I won’t. Tell him I can stay.”

Everyone in the room simply stared at her.

“All right. I’ll rest, but don’t leave me yet. I’m afraid.”

Maggie closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep again.

His mother leveled a stare at him. “Logan, I ken ye know something ye aren’t telling. What was she talking about?”

Laird Grant nodded. “Aye, she never knew her mother and clearly she wasn’t talking to yers just now. What did she mean by
he knows I’m not Margaret
?”

There was nothing for it. He had to tell them. “Sit down. This may take a while.”

By the time Logan had finished, both Laird Grant and his mother actually believed the story. His mother looked bewildered, Laird Grant looked bereft.

“So my daughter is dead to me. If Maggie says the word Margaret will die here. If she doesn’t, Margaret remains in the future, lost to me.”

Logan nodded. “I’m sorry, Laird. I tried to stop her that day. She wouldn’t listen. If it weren’t for Maggie, Margaret would have died then.”

“She was headstrong, and I know she was concerned more with her own wants than the needs of others. That’s my fault I suppose. I indulged her.”

“Alpin, don’t,” said Lady Davina. “Ye loved yer daughter and raised her as best ye knew how, just as we all do.”

“She was not happy with the betrothal,” he looked away for a moment, “but I guess she made that painfully obvious.”

“Please, Alpin, stop berating yourself. Now we know why. She thought herself in love and hoped to end the betrothal. It’s hard to see anything else when one has such strong feelings for another. I suspect if it hadn’t been for that, she would have accepted her responsibilities with more grace.”

“Ye are kind, to say so, Davina.”

His mother smiled at Laird Grant and patted his hand. “I remember another strong-willed Grant who had his own ideas about marriage.”

Laird Grant smiled sadly. “Aye. I suppose I do too.”

His mother laughed but Logan asked, “What are ye talking about?”

“Alpin was supposed to marry my sister, Aunt Mae.” She smiled. “He patently refused. It nearly caused a feud.”

“I was in love with Malina—”

“I know ye were. And Margaret was in love too. What happened has happened. We’ll say no more about this. We need to focus on Maggie now.”

Logan’s throat tightened. “I have been trying to get her to say the word. She’ll live if she does. She’ll wake in her own bed, seven hundred years from now.” Even though he knew it was the right thing to do, even as he said it, he didn’t want to lose her.

“Well, son, now ye need to stop that. Maggie has made her choice. Clearly she has no intention of leaving, so we have to get her better.”

“But, mother—”

“Nay Logan. Maggie loves ye, she wants ye and she needs no better reason than that to thwart death. She can’t fight this fight with ye urging her to give up.”

His mother was right. Knowing she was gravely injured, Maggie had made the choice. Logan had to make sure her choice was not made in vain.

~ * ~

“Maggie…Maggie wake up.” It was just how her mother had called her in the mornings to get her up for school. But it couldn’t be her mother.

Maggie had to see who it was. She struggled to wake up. She was hot, and everything hurt, but she forced her eyes open. “Mom, you’re back.” Maggie could scarcely believe it. The room in Castle Carr dissolved around her. She was in her bed at home.

“I have never really left you, my darling, and as long as I am in your heart, I never will. You just haven’t been able to see me.”