Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
For the rest of the night and all through the following day, Logan resisted the urge to visit Adeline in her guest chambers. Instead, he had distracted himself with his duties, riding back and forth across the island to tend to any destruction or injury that had arisen from the previous night’s storm.
He had thrown himself into the work, toiling alongside his people, who were spread out across the island. Some lived at the keep, some lived in small clusters of stone bothies—small one-room cottages—and huts, while others preferred solitude, having built their home wherever they liked.
But as darkness fell again, the storm long passed and giving way to light flurries of snow, Logan found himself on the staircase to the keep tower, where Adeline’s chamber could be found.
“Nay, take yer behind back down the stairs,” a voice called out as a figure descended.
Logan looked up at his mother. “What do ye mean?”
“She’s still restin’ and healin’. She doesnae need ye scarin’ her again,” Sophie replied.
“So, she’s still there?”
She smiled. “Ye thought she might vanish into thin air?”
“It wouldnae be the strangest thing that’s happened.”
She gave a small nod. “Aye, it’s somethin’ I considered, too. Felt certain that when I went into her chambers this mornin’, she wouldnae be there, though I couldnae explain why.” She sighed. “But she was there, fast asleep. She has been wakin’ to eat somethin’, then slumberin’ again. After all, ye could say she’s had a long journey.”
“Ye believe her story?”
Logan searched his mother’s face for any doubt, for though he did not always care for her interjections, he trusted in her judgment. If she thought the impossible was possible, then maybe it really was.
His mother chuckled tightly. “I do, though it isnae without its… concerns.”
“Concerns?” He frowned.
“Let me dwell on them,” she insisted. “Ye ought to have some dinner and retire to yer own chambers. Ye look tired, Logan.”
Logan pressed on up the stairs, passing his mother. “I’ll come down to dine once I’ve apologized to her. If I frighten her, I’ll leave at once, but ye willnae dissuade me from seein’ her.”
“As ye prefer,” Sophie said softly, turning to watch him as he made his way to the top of the staircase.
There were only two chambers at the highest height of the keep, the other room lying empty. He approached the door to Adeline’s chambers, pausing as he heard a strange sound coming from within. She was singing—a song he did not know, jaunty and joyful.
“Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la,” seemed to be the words, but much like everything else she said, he could not be completely sure.
He knocked, and the singing stopped abruptly.
“Hello?” Adeline called.
Taking that as permission, Logan swung open the door and stepped inside.
Adeline, dressed in an unusual combination of long petticoats and the top part of that gray second skin, yelped in alarm, staggering backward into the writing desk. She cursed loudly, reaching down to rub the back of her thigh.
“Do you always just waltz into a woman’s room?” she grumbled. “That’s going to bruise.”
“May I see?” Worry flared in his chest.
“No, you may not!” she replied, startled. “It’s just a bruise. It’s not going to kill me. Then again, I am in 1705. I think even a little cold can kill you here.”
“I have seen many die from the cold,” Logan confirmed. “Would ye like me to put more wood into the fireplace so ye daenae catch a chill?”
She frowned at him. “Why are you being nice again? Do you have a split personality?”
“I… suppose every Laird has two natures,” he replied uncertainly, using context to figure out her meaning. “There is the man and the Laird. While connected, they cannae always be the same.”
She blinked in surprise. “And I’m speaking with the man, not the Laird?”
“If ye like.”
He went to the fireplace and put more wood into the hearth, waiting until the chopped logs caught fire before he returned his attention to her.
“I apologize for me behavior last night after I brought ye inside the keep. I dinnae let ye say yer piece, and I took ye to dungeons that I havenae used in years. For that, I’m sorry. It’s nae in me nature to be unkind, but when ye mentioned Christmas I feared for me people, and the Laird in me always has to put them first.”
Adeline sat down on the chair before the writing desk. “I’ve had time to think about things,” she admitted. “I understand why you did what you did. Where I come from, long ago—longer ago than now—the idea of witches sent people a bit crazy, too. I’m just glad you’re not their kind of crazy, or I imagine I’d be getting ducked in water or burnt at the stake by now.”
“I have heard about the trials that troubled the Colonies,” Logan said, nodding. “But, ye see, there’s a greater reason why I couldnae put me trust in ye, and why that desire to protect me people overwhelmed everythin’ else.”
Adeline met his gaze, while he tried his best not to look at the tight material of that unusual garment. “What’s the reason? Have you had witches here before?”
“We daenae ken, but we suspect it,” he replied, feeling foolish. He had never truly believed in witches and curses. Even now, he suspected that there had to be another more reasonable explanation for his island’s plight. “There’s a… curse on this island.”
A faint smile, like a smirk, lifted one corner of Adeline’s lips. “A curse?”
“I ken it doesnae sound true, but it is,” he insisted sternly, annoyed by her expression. “It began a month ago. There arenae too many people on this island, to begin with—a few hundred—so ye notice when somethin’ starts killin’ ‘em. It started in the north of the island, makin’ ‘em sick, and it is slowly makin’ its way here to the south. There have been reports of the curse in the east of the island, while the west hasnae been touched yet.”
Adeline’s expression changed to one of intrigue. “I doubt it’s a curse,” she said confidently. “Could be something in the water or food that’s making people sick. Do you preserve food for the winter? It might’ve rotted, but not enough so you’d notice, or moisture might have gotten in, and that is a breeding ground for all kinds of bacteria. Do you all use the same water source?”
“There are three springs on the island,” he told her, just as intrigued by her questions. “Everyone uses whichever is closest. As for the food, aye, we preserve it, but I reckon ye would notice if it was rotten.”
Adeline straightened up, reaching for one of the quills on the desk. She tore off a piece of paper, dipped the nib of the quill in the inkpot, and began to write. Her lean body was half turned toward him, her voice more direct as she spoke again.
“What are the symptoms of the curse ? How is the sickness presenting itself?”
“In different ways,” Logan replied. “In the north, there were fevers, chills, vomiting, and rashes, with most of the pain reported in the stomach and chest. In the east, it’s killin’ quicker. Within a day, for some. Me uncle is there right now, investigatin’.”
Adeline twisted the end of her hair around her forefinger. “It sounds like something has been ingested, particularly with your people in the north. I’d have to hear from your uncle before I could pass any speculation on the eastern issue, to figure out if they’re connected or not.” She nodded. “But, in the north, it’s either a shared source of bacteria—water, food—or it’s a contagion carried by fleas or rats or birds, possibly. Do you have much trouble with those on the island?”
“Birds, aye, but I daenae ken about rats and fleas,” Logan replied, scowling a little.
Adeline seemed to feel his glower. “It doesn’t mean your conditions are unsanitary. Wherever there are people, there are rats, and rats carry fleas. But… I might have to see for myself if I’m being honest. I can’t diagnose someone from afar.”
“How do ye ken so much about this?” Logan softened toward her.
She smiled. “I told you, I’m a doctor—or a healer, as you might call it. And, before you ask, where I come from, women do all the things that men do. We can go to university, we can have careers, we drive cars, we can live alone if we want to, we can be mothers if we want to, we can fly planes—we can do anything.”
Logan stared at her, dumbfounded. “What are cars and planes?”
“Ah… right. Uh… well, they’re… modes of transport. A car is like a horseless carriage, I guess, and a plane is… it flies through the air from country to country, or from one part of a country to another. We have big ships, too, made of metal, that don’t need steam or wind.”
Logan was quite sure his eyes were about to fall out of his head, his mind exploding with strange visions of what those things might look like. “Humans have advanced that far?”
She seemed surprised by his question. “That’s just the start, but I won’t give away too many secrets, in case you change the timeline of the world by inventing a car hundreds of years too early.” She laughed awkwardly. “I wish you’d invented running hot water, though.”
“Pardon?”
“In my world, you turn a tap, and hot water comes out, on demand. You use it to shower, and I’m in dire need of one,” she explained.
He nodded in understanding, his mind whirring with the idea of hot water as and when one wanted it. “We bathe in the freshwater pools on the shore. I can take ye there if ye want?”
“In winter?” Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open.
Logan had to smile. “Seems we’re hardier than ye lot. Aye, in winter. In all seasons. Ye’ll come out of that pool feelin’ like ye’ve been reborn.”
“You don’t, perhaps, have any hot baths?” Her voice was small, defeated.
“Aye, we do, but nay one uses ‘em. I could have one prepared for ye if ye’re nae bold enough to face the pools.” He paused, feeling sly. “But ye did say that, in yer world, women can do anythin’ men can. The women here bathe in those pools—maybe they’re tougher than ye think.”
Adeline squared her shoulders, sticking her chin up. “Fine, I’ll bathe in these pools of yours. Cold water is meant to be excellent for the nervous system and circulation.” She shuddered, though she was not yet submerged in the icy water. “The Scandinavians swear by it.”
“Och, well, if the Scandinavians, whoever they are, swear by it, it must be worthwhile,” Logan remarked, already imagining her dripping wet in the fairy pools, as the islanders called them. And if she got too cold, he would always be there to warm her up, giving her his heat.
He would not mind sharing with a woman like her.