Chapter 28
A daughter.
The lurch in Isa’s stomach had nothing to do with the wagon’s movement down the rutted path. No more than the heat or the cramped space might have to do with the pain in her heart.
A daughter waiting for Robbie at MacQuarrie Keep implied a wife waiting as well.
How could she ever manage to face that woman, his wife, after what she’d shared with him?
Unless . . .
Perhaps there was no wife. He’d never once spoken of one.
Isa might be willing to delude herself but her conscience had no desire to allow that.
He’s never spoken of a daughter, either.
And yet clearly he has a daughter.
He had made mention of a family often enough, but she had never stopped to consider that to mean a daughter and a wife. No wonder he had been so insistent that she accompany him to his home. He’d wanted to return to his family.
His daughter and his wife.
Isa curled into a ball, turning away from the child sleeping next to her. She buried her face in the woolens Editha had laid out for them to rest on, hoping their fragrant thickness would absorb her tears.
If only she could join Jamie in slumber so she wouldn’t have listen to her own horrible thoughts any longer.
The fantasy she’d allowed herself to construct, the cozy home with Robbie and Jamie and maybe even a baby one day—none of it would come to pass now.
He’d hidden a daughter and a wife from her.
Even in her misery, her conscience wouldn’t let her be.
Who was she to hold him accountable for keeping secrets when she hadn’t bothered to tell him her own? They’d walked for hours together on that long road. She’d had nothing but opportunity to tell Robbie what she’d done.
And who was she to blame him for shattering the fantasy she’d never had any right to create from the beginning? She herself had done that by her own actions. Even if no wife waited for Robbie at the end of their travels, it made no difference.
A husband waited for her back at Castle MacGahan.
Her husband.
The bone-jarring movement of the wagon rolled to a stop, the lack of motion unsettling after so long a ride. As discreetly as possible, Isa wiped her eyes and then pushed herself up to sit. She might as well make herself useful because she certainly wasn’t going to get any more rest.
Beside her, Jamie stirred and opened his eyes. The bandage Esther had applied to his cheek earlier hung askew and Isa could see at once that the child’s injuries were worse. The skin was swollen and red.
“Have we arrived?” he asked, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.
“I dinna think so. No yet. I’d guess we’re stopping for the night, lad.”
“I’ll see.” Jamie turned over, crawling on all fours to the flap, where he slid out feetfirst.
Isa followed more slowly, heading for the second wagon the moment her feet touched the ground.
Robbie lay in the second wagon.
“Mistress Isabella.”
The man who’d called her name, Ralph Faas, William’s older brother, hurried toward her. It was his wife, Esther, who had done all she could do to treat both Jamie and Robbie.
“William asked me to tell you no to stray too far from the wagons because we doona stop for the night. We’re only going to water the horses and give them a few hours’ rest before we start out again. My Esther says yer Guardian canna afford the delay of a full night on the road.”
Isa’s thank-you was lost on Ralph, who’d already turned his back, heading off to tend to the animals.
As she reached the second wagon, Esther was climbing down.
“That was a long ride,” she sighed, sending a tired smile back up toward Editha, who crouched at the opening, her small son in her arms. “I’ll hurry back to watch over Sean for you so you can have a stretch of yer legs as well.”
“I’ll watch him for you. Go ahead with Esther,” Isa offered, her arms fairly itching to hold the little boy.
“Are you sure? He sleeps at the moment, but he’s rare fussy with his back teeth coming in. Only being held seems to help him sleep.”
“I’m sure.”
Editha moved to the side of the opening, allowing Isa to climb inside before handing over the sleeping child. With a grateful smile, she left them.
The interior of this wagon was exactly the same as that of the other, packed with goods to sell and provisions to keep the families going on their travels. A pallet was tucked into the front, identical to the one she and Jamie had slept on.
Robbie lay very still, his chest bare save for the great bandage swathed around his ribs.
Isa made her way over to him, balancing the sleeping toddler against her shoulder as she stretched out her hand to feel his forehead.
The skin under her touch was hot and clammy. Though Isa made no claims to any knowledge of healing, she was sure this wasn’t a good thing.
The child in her arms slept soundly, his little mouth slightly open even after she’d managed to situate herself onto a spot on the floor next to Robbie.
She leaned her face down to the child’s, delighting in the soft feel of his sweet breath tickling her face. Tracing a finger lightly over Sean’s cheek, she marveled at the soft, smooth texture of his skin.
“Quite a picture, you with that babe in yer arms. Like a natural mother, you are.”
Isa started, looking up to find Robbie’s eyes fixed on her.
“I thought you slept,” she whispered, mindful of not waking the child. “How do you feel? Is the poultice helping?”
Esther had combined a variety of herbs and powders such as Isa had never seen before into a pasty mix that she had smeared across Robbie’s wound before wrapping it tightly with a bandage.
He completely ignored her question.
“Jamie came in to see me moments ago. His injuries are no healing properly. His face shows signs of infection, and since we’ve no medicine, you must promise to have Leah see to him first.”
He was panting as he finished speaking, as if so many words had taken more than he was capable of giving. Words that obviously came from the brainsickness of his fever because they made no sense.
“Promise me,” he hissed, trying to pull himself up to one elbow.
“You have my oath on it,” she answered, fearful he’d injure himself even more if he kept this up. “I’ll have yer . . . yer Leah see to Jamie first.” Daughter had stuck in her throat, as if her heart would not allow her to form the word.
“Good,” he sighed, lying back down as if satisfied with her answer.
For long moments it was silent in the wagon save for the baby’s gentle snore and Robbie’s labored breathing.
“When we reach the keep, there’s one more thing I need you to do for me.”
His voice breaking the silence startled her. She’d been so sure he’d slept, she hadn’t realized he was simply gathering his strength until he lifted his head, his eyes glassy in his determination to speak.
“Anything, Robbie. But you must save yer strength now.” She reached out a hand to him and he grabbed on, holding much tighter than she would have expected him to be capable of.
“You and Jamie are to have a home there, Isa. No matter what happens to me, you ken? Yer to stay there where you’ll be safe. When you find my mother. Tell her yer my wife, aye? They’ll look after you there.”
“You mean you dinna have a wife waiting for you?” She wanted to bite her tongue, but the words were already out there, spewed from her mouth before she had time to censor herself.
“No wife,” he panted, his head dropping back to the cushion, his eyes closed. “Only you.”
“But what of yer . . . daughter?” She forced herself to say the word, somehow made less painful by the knowledge there was no wife. “Why have you no told me of her?”
“Leah’s story is her own, no mine, to be told or no as she chooses.”
How could his daughter’s story not be his? Isa started to ask but Esther returned, with Editha following her.
The first woman carefully climbed up into the wagon so as not to spill any water from the pot she carried. When she reached them, she dipped a small cloth into the water and wrung it out before placing it on Robbie’s forehead.
Editha took the peacefully sleeping child from Isa’s arms before sitting down beside her.
“You’d best stretch yer own legs for a bit, Mistress Isabella. The last part of our journey will carry us through the night with few stops, but William says by morning we’ll reach MacQuarrie Keep.”
Isa nodded, and climbed down from the wagon. She wandered over to the edge of the stream, scanning the area for Jamie’s whereabouts.
She found him at last, sitting on the bank, throwing rocks into the water with Ewan, Ralph and Esther’s son.
A wave of guilt washed over her as she watched the child.
He needed to know what had happened to his grandmother.
But not now. She couldn’t face breaking such horrible news to him after all the trauma he’d suffered.
She couldn’t bear to add to his burden or to see him even sadder.
Once they reached Robbie’s home, after both Robbie and Jamie were healed, there would be time.
She and Robbie would tell the child together.
A shiver ran down her spine, the shock of realization slamming into her. Perhaps Robbie had felt this same way when he’d chosen not to tell her of Annie’s murder?
No wonder she’d fought unsuccessfully for years to learn control of her emotions. How could she hope to control what she felt when she was so blind to the feelings of others?
As she watched, Ewan brought more rocks over to where Jamie sat, as if he realized his young companion hadn’t the strength to gather them for himself.
Odd how these people, these tinklers who were scorned everywhere they went, had accepted them so easily and had shown them such kindness. She only hoped they would find this same sort of acceptance where they headed.
Jamie and her both.