Chapter 3
T ara wasn’t sure she had ever been through such a blitz of emotions in quick succession. Fear, curiosity, terror, annoyance, frustration, and then, last of all, pity. When she had examined Gordon, she had been angry with him for putting her in such a vulnerable position. She had felt all over his body, touching the taut sinews underneath and getting a good sense of his strength in the name of healing, only to realize that he wasn’t hurt at all.
It was demeaning and humiliating. She had assumed he had done it all for the thrill, but apparently it was just a test of her courage. She was almost ashamed to have passed it. Perhaps if she failed he might have sent her on her way and she would be gone from this forsaken place, but now that she knew the truth she did not want to leave.
Gordon seemed far different now that he was standing before his son. Where he was terrifying before, now he looked repentant. His intimidating physique was replaced by a sense of helplessness, as though he knew that all his weapons and brute strength could do nothing when faced with a physical affliction.
She knew Lairds and she knew men. Many of them liked to think that they held power in their hands and could bend the world to their will, but nature did not listen to them. They could not command the tides, the winds, or the storm, and nor could they control sickness and disease.
Gordon struck her as a man who had learned these lessons too late in life, and was now flailing around, trying to make sense of these new rules. There was a despairing look to his eyes and his broken voice was one that she had heard many times before from people who simply couldn’t understand why this was happening, and turned to healers in the hope that the impossible could be cured.
“What is his name?” she asked.
“Keith,” he replied.
“For how long has he been like this?”
“Tae long.” Gordon’s words were barely audible.
“And his symptoms?” she continued.
This time he twisted his head around and glared at her. His bloodshot eyes were intense. “I dinnae bring ye here tae ask me questions. I brought ye here tae heal my son! Ye will learn more from examining him.” He pointed to Keith and then stepped back from the bed.
Tara frowned, but did as he asked. It wasn’t going to do her any harm to examine the boy. She perched herself on the edge of the bed and gently nudged him. He was breathing steadily, but he would not wake. She even lifted his eyelid and saw that his eye rolled back. She touched his head, wincing at the heat it was giving off, and she dabbed his skin with a cloth. She gently touched the pressure points of his body, checking for sores, bruises, rashes, or any other kind of blemishes. Unfortunately, from a cursory examination, she could not come to a distinct conclusion.
“Well? What’s wrong with him?” Gordon asked in a demanding tone.
“I cannae tell from a quick look. It would help if I knew more about his condition, about when it started and such like. Did he hae anything strange tae eat? Hae he been exposed tae any plants?”
“None of that matters,” Gordon swiped his hand through the air. “All I need is for ye tae make him better. And ye will make him better.” His tone darkened, and he jabbed a finger in the air. “Or I will throw ye in the dungeons. Ye will stay in that room across the hall and hae yer meals there. Other than that, ye will spend all ye energy on healing him. I will nae let my son die, and ye better make sure that he dinnae, otherwise ye will pay the price.”
Tara felt herself wilting under the force of his words. If this had been two years ago, then she would have burst into tears, but she had grown a lot since then and her experiences had hardened her. Besides, now that she had a patient, she could think of herself as a healer and not as a young woman who had been kidnapped. It was her patient who mattered now, and she needed to be strong for him. So it was that she returned to her feet and looked Gordon directly in the eye.
“It dinnae work like that, Laird Abernathy. Ye may be accustomed tae getting what ye want by threats, but my skills dinnae depend on fear. I will dae all I can for yer son because it is the right thing tae dae, and because I hae sworn an oath tae help those in need. But ye should think twice about threatening me because, as ye say, I am the only one who can help yer son. I expect ye tae treat me with respect, nae like a prisoner. I want tae be yer guest.”
“Ye ask tae much. I cannae give ye freedom. I cannae risk ye escaping.”
“I give ye my word that I will nae try tae escape while yer son is in this condition. I am nae in the habit of leaving my patients’ bedside. If ye knew anything about healing, then ye would know that tae be true. I dinnae like the way ye brought me here, but since I am here, I shall dae what I can for yer son.”
“Just make him well again,” Laird Abernathy growled.
“I will dae all I can, but there are nae guarantees with a sickness like this. I need as much information as I can get.”
“Ye hae him. Ye can glean anything ye want from him,” Gordon said, pointing to his son.
“That’s nae enough,” Tara replied with steel in her voice and ice in her veins.
It was clear that Gordon had not expected this reaction. His eyes widened for a moment and he recoiled slightly. Then his eyes narrowed, and the features of his face became pinched. His pale skin was ashen with sorrow, and there were deep shadows under his bloodshot eyes. She could easily imagine him spending sleepless nights beside his son, hands clasped in futile prayers.
Did the fact he was a doting father excuse the act of kidnapping her? She wasn’t entirely sure. Deep inside, she had always sworn she would do anything to protect her family, but as yet, she had not been faced with such dire extremes. What if Allan was ill? Would she push the limits of her morality to save him? Was his young life more important than her conscience?
An essential part of being a healer was having empathy and compassion for her patients, but these were not qualities that Tara could simply switch off and on. They were fundamental parts of her character, and they extended to everyone she met.
Even Gordon.
When he had first appeared, her fear had twisted him into this malevolent being, a demon rising from the shadows seeking to claim her soul. But now she could see that he was a grieving father, scared and powerless, unable to help his son himself and frustrated because he had never been in this position before. He lashed out because of it, at everything and everyone because there was no other way to express the emotions that whirled inside. Saving his child was perhaps the most basic and primal need. It was like hunger or thirst, a driving force to protect his own flesh and blood, and it was no wonder that he had no cause for manners or politeness.
But that did not mean she was going to allow him to walk over her, make demands of her, and threaten her.
“What more dae ye want?” he growled, his lips twitching, his gaze weighing upon her.
“I am nae gaeing tae stay in that room. I need one with a window, and a hearth. I also need some kind of parchment or book tae make notes. And patience. It can take time tae understand a patient’s condition?—”
“I dinnae hae time!” Gordon snarled.
Tara closed her eyes and remained composed. “I will work as swiftly as I can, but in order tae give him the best treatment, I need tae make sure I get the remedy right. If I give him the wrong medicine, it could make things worse. I am nae gaeing tae treat him until I’m sure that I can help him. As of this moment, he is my priority and everything I dae is in his best interests, even if ye dinnae agree. But if ye want me tae heal yer son, then ye hae tae trust my judgment. I would prefer it if ye spoke tae me with a wee bit more respect,” she added, thinking that Caroline and Nessa would be proud of her for doing so.
Gordon shifted a little. His shoulders sagged an inch and he became a little less fearsome.
“Very well. There’s a room directly across the hall. Ye can hae access tae this room whenever ye like. If ye need anything else, ask me. I will send a meal tae ye soon. But find a cure. I cannae lose him.”
Gordon’s hand clenched into a tight fist, and he choked on these words. He then took himself away from Tara and strode out of the room, as though he could not bear to be there any longer. Tara watched him disappear, curious about the two warring aspects of his personality. There was a fearsome, proud warrior, but also a worried and scared father.
Tara sighed and turned her attention back to Keith. She stroked a lock of hair from his forehead, and she could see his eyes rolling beneath his lids. His forehead was damp with sweat. It was difficult to tell a similarity between father and son given Keith’s condition, and the fact that Gordon’s appearance had mostly been hidden behind shadows and lank locks of untamed hair.
Her heart was filled with pity. There was always something more tragic when a child became ill, for they had not had a chance to enjoy all of life’s fruit. She placed her hand against his cheek.
“I promise that I will dae everything I can tae make ye well, Keith,” she whispered.
Keith’s head lolled from side to side, and he murmured something unintelligible, and then he said a sharp word.
“Ma.”
Tara had been so preoccupied that she hadn’t even considered the fact that Keith had a mother. She wondered where that woman was, and then wondered what type of woman could marry Gordon. His mood was wild, and he had some cruel ideas of how to test people. He was the kind of man who took what he wanted and enjoyed doing so, or at least that was the way he seemed from what little time Tara had spent with him.
Tara dabbed a cloth across Keith’s head and then turned him to the side to ensure that he did not develop sores. It was a most puzzling condition indeed, and she was going to have to draw upon all her expertise to discover the cause of the illness, and the required treatment. For now, there wasn’t anything she could do, so she bid Keith farewell.
As she left the room, she saw an open door greeting her on the other side of the hall. She entered it and found this room more to her liking, although it was still a prison. At least this one had an open window.
She approached the window and cast her gaze out at the bleak horizon. The fields were covered in gorse and thistle, while a forest lay to the right. To the left was a jagged, slate gray mountain that blurred into the sky, as though there was no separating them. It was a harsh land, with rocky tors and icy rivers wending their way through the hard soil.
Her home might have been another world away. Even if she screamed as loudly as she could, there was no way the sound would reach her sisters. She was alone, and only she would be able to survive. Of course, if she managed to cure Keith, then Gordon would be grateful, and she might be rewarded with her freedom. But she dreaded the alternative.
In her room, on a small desk, was a plate of bread and cheese and a jug of water, accompanied by a wooden mug. There were also sheets of parchment, a quill, and some ink. While she did not have her journal with her, it brought her solace to know that she could still keep up with putting her thoughts to paper. As she nibbled on the bread and cheese, she wrote down some of her thoughts.
I’m not quite sure what to make of my situation. I am a prisoner again, although this time I do not have Caroline and Nessa to help keep my emotions balanced. Gordon Abernathy is as terrible as his reputation suggests, but he is not without his humanity. He is scared, but scared men can be dangerous. His scars run deeper than the physical…
Although then, strange thoughts flashed through her mind; memories of a short time ago when she had examined his body. She could not fail to remember the taut muscles beneath her fingers, the impressive height and width of him, a full-blooded man in the prime of his life, exuding power and authority, a hazy aura of masculine prowess.
She shook her head, embarrassed, and continued writing.
He is the kind of man who does not care for etiquette or proper procedure, who indulges his own desires and takes great delight in doing so. I cannot help but feel stirred by this way of living because it is so far from my own attitude. His wife must either have been as impressive and strong-willed as him, or utterly meek, following him more as a servant than a wife.
I will have to tread carefully. As long as his son survives, I am safe, but I dread to think what might happen if his condition worsens. I fear that Gordon will hold me personally responsible. I hope to learn more about him and why he brought me here.
She had no doubt that Gordon would make good on his threat to throw her in the dungeon where she would rot, just like her uncle. She shuddered at the thought that she might have anything in common with that terrible man. While she was determined to do her best to treat Keith, she also had to think of a way to escape, in case she failed
Why me of all people? He is a Laird, surely there are other ways he could find a healer? It all seems strange to me…
My thoughts turn to home. I was foolish to listen to Shea. I should have taken the time to notify Caroline that I was leaving the clan. She must be so upset with me. I can imagine Nessa trying to rally the guards and leading the charge to follow me, but they do not know where to look. They could scour the Highlands for years and never learn where I am, for I doubt any of them would think that I had been captured by Laird Abernathy. Perhaps there is some way to get a message to them, although Gordon is so strict, I doubt I will be given any freedom at all.
For now, I must be a healer above all else. A boy’s life hangs in the balance, and I am the one tasked with his care. Everything else can be dealt with later. It would not be so difficult if Gordon was more forthcoming with information about the illness, but for some reason he seems to treat everything like a mystery, and I am required to puzzle it all out.
But for now, I shall rest, and outwardly I will act as though I am a guest rather than a prisoner, but I shall not forget the truth. Perhaps I can seek out Keith’s mother and ask her for mercy, wherever she is.
Tara wrote more about her struggles and her thoughts, using this as a memorandum in case the worst should happen. She wanted someone to know what had happened to her. After writing these thoughts down, she then folded them up and placed them under the mattress of the bed, not wanting Gordon to find them.
She took a fresh sheet of paper and noted down Keith’s symptoms, as well as other information that she needed to learn. After this, she watched the darkness settle upon the land and tiredness tugged at her eyes. She moved to the unfamiliar bed and lay with her hands clasped over her chest, breathing deeply to try to settle her nerves. She thought of home, hoping that it would calm her. Again, she imagined what Caroline and Nessa would say if they were in the same room as her.
Sleep will do you good, Tara. Get a good night’s rest and everything will seem better in the morning , Caroline would say.
Aye, and ye will need yer strength tae fight , Nessa would add.
Tara could picture her eyes glinting with ferocity. No doubt, she would not have hesitated to take Gordon’s dagger when she had the chance, but that was not Tara’s way.
Just when Tara began slipping into slumber, she was disturbed by a strange and heavy sound. She focused her hearing and realized that the muffled noise was coming from across the hall. It was the sound of a man’s weeping. His sorrow washed through the Keep and touched everything, including Tara’s heart.