Chapter 20 #2
Seathan nodded to the healer. “Leave us.”
The healer cast an unsure glance between them, secured the last bag of herbs, then hurried out.
Tense silence filled the chamber.
“Patrik is gravely ill. We do not know if he will . . .” Alexander muttered a curse.
Anguish darkened Nichola’s eyes. “God no.”
Alexander took his wife’s hand, cupped it in his own. “Go, please.”
“I would like to stay,” Nichola said, “if only for a while.”
At the rumble of voices, Patrik forced his eyes open. A pounding in his skull rewarded his efforts. His vision was blurred. Through sheer will, he focused. Stilled. “Nichola?”
At Patrik’s rough whisper, she whirled. With hesitant steps, she crossed the room. “I am here.”
Through the blur of pain, emotion swept Patrik as he stared at the woman he’d tried to kill.
She drew a slow breath, the turmoil in her eyes battling with anxiety.
“I am sorry,” Patrik forced out, doubting anything could ever cleanse his soul. “Never will I try to harm you again. That I swear.”
“When I believed you dead, I was relieved.” Nichola’s voice trembled; Alexander walked to her side, clasped her shoulder.
Nichola shot him a thankful glance, and then faced Patrik.
“When you first rode through the gates, I was as angry as I was afraid. The terror of your attempt upon my life left me feeling weak. For that, I hated you. For that, I wanted you dead.”
“And now?” Patrik asked, his question but a rough gasp.
Nichola shook her head. “As Mistress Emma pointed out, your actions were guided by the tragedies of your past.”
“Emma?” Patrik hesitated. “What do-does she have to do with this?”
“She is an interesting woman,” Nichola replied, “and loves you very much.”
“Lo-Loves me?” He grunted with disgust. “She betrayed me.”
“She did,” Nichola agreed. “But she also faced your brothers, admitted everything, her real name, and that she was hired by Cressingham. She risked her life to save yours.”
Head pounding, Patrik turned away. “I-I do not wish to speak of her.”
“Why?” Nichola demanded. “Because someone you trusted did naught but use you, gave but false words to achieve her goal?”
“Aye,” he hissed, his anger finding a foothold. “Nothing she said was the truth.” Including her feelings for him, and that hurt the worst.
“Think you, you are innocent?”
At the bite in Nichola’s words, he met her gaze.
Shame washed through him as he recalled his own deception when Alexander had first brought Nichola before them as his captive.
Patrik had spoken to her with respect disguising his outrage; he’d plotted to keep her and Alexander apart.
When that had failed, he’d abducted Nichola with the intent to take her life.
Humbled, Patrik shook his head. “Nae. Emma’s path is one I, too, have trod.”
Thick silence filled the chamber as his brothers witnessed his shame.
“Will you forgive her?” Nichola asked.
The oddity of her question struck Patrik, but he would offer her truth. “Forgive her? How, when I know not if I can ever trust her again?”
“And that,” Nichola said, her voice breaking, “is exactly how I feel.”
Alexander drew his wife against him, stroked her hair as her quiet sobs filled the chamber. “Go,” he murmured. “You have said enough.”
She broke free of his hold, faced Patrik, her gaze fierce. “No, I must know why you took an arrow aimed for Alexander, why you saved his life?”
Emotion clogged his throat. “Be-Because Alexander is my brother, the father of a beautiful son, husband to an incredible woman whom I wronged.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away. “Patrik?”
At Nichola’s nervous whisper, he tried to speak, but heaviness weighed upon him as if a hand pressed against his chest, and his entire body seemed as if on fire.
“Patrik?”
Through the haze of pain, Nichola’s voice seemed more frantic.
Patrik tried to speak, to make his mouth work, but naught would come.
A sense of doom filled him, a heartache that swamped his every thought.
Tired, he was so tired. Thankful, he gave in to the sheer exhaustion, closed his eyes and succumbed to the blackness.
Alexander cursed. “He has passed out.”
Nichola laid her hand upon Patrik’s brow. “He has a fever.”
The healer’s words rumbled through Alexander’s mind. He met his brothers’ worried gazes, turned to his wife. “Nichola, await me in our chamber. Please.”
She hesitated. Then, as if understanding that he needed to speak with his brothers in private, she left.
As the door closed, Seathan stepped to Alexander’s side. “Patrik’s fate is not your burden to bear.”
“By my sword, he took the bloody arrow meant for me.” Guilt seared him as he faced his brothers. “As did our father in my youth, and he died to protect me. Now, we know not if Patrik will live.” He closed his eyes, opened them. “By my sword, twice it should have been me lying upon my deathbed.”
Anger flared in Duncan’s eyes. “Patrik has not died.”
“Nae,” Alexander rasped. “We have that.”
Patrik shifted, sweat lining his brow. He tossed his head back and forth. “Cristina.”
Alexander knelt at the bedside, placed his palm against Patrik’s brow. Fiery heat met him. “Patrik.”
His brother’s words were garbled.
“I will send for the healer,” Seathan said.
“What will she do?” Alexander stood, furious he could do naught but let his brother burn up with fever, let him die. “She has given him herbs to ease the pain. ’Twill take time and a miracle to heal his wounds.” Silence descended upon the chamber.
“Cristina?” Patrik whispered.
Alexander muttered a curse as he strode to the door.
“It will be good for you to be with Nichola,” Seathan said.
At the door, Alexander turned. “’Tis not who I am going to see.”
“Who then?” Seathan asked.
“Emma.” Alexander slammed the door in his wake and strode to her chamber, unsure whether he was angrier at Patrik for taking the bloody arrow for him or at Emma for being in league with his enemy. At Emma’s chamber, he shoved open the door, strode inside.
Empty.
He scanned the corridor. With a guard at the bottom of the turret, she could not have escaped. Blast it, where was she? An outrageous thought came to mind. Anger stewed. Nae, she would not dare!
Alexander bolted down the hallway, then took the stairs to the tower chamber two at a time. God help her if he found her within.
Above, the door stood open.
He stormed through the entry, his mind blazing hot.
Framed within the sheen of sun, the lass lay upon his grandmother’s bed asleep. Curled within her hand lay Patrik’s halved stone.
Bedamned! He stalked over. He should rip the gemstone from her hand. She was English and had no place in their home!
“A belief Patrik once held about Nichola as well.”
At the whisper of his grandmother’s voice, Alexander whirled. Heart slamming against his chest, he scoured the chamber. It stood empty, but a fire blazed within the hearth that had lain empty moments ago. He’d heard her voice, as if the words were spoken to him with a smile.
Shame filled him. Aye, when Patrik had first met Nichola, he’d believed she had no place within their home or Alexander’s life. Had not Emma risked her life to save Patrik by returning to Lochshire Castle? He swallowed hard. Like Patrik, he was wrong.
“I understand,” Alexander said to the fairies on the ceiling. “But that does not mean I like it.”
A sparkle flickered within the eyes of the fairy wearing the dark green gown, and then faded.
The flames within the hearth disappeared.
He muttered a curse. “Mistress Emma.”
She shifted.
Blast it. However tempted he was to haul her up, Alexander gently touched her shoulder.
Emma’s eyes flew open. Confusion, then recognition flared. “Sir Alexander!” She shot from the bed, her eyes wide with panic. “I did not mean to stay here. I but came to return Patrik’s halved stone.”
He scowled. “The one in your hand?”
Mistress Emma looked down and red slashed her cheeks. “I will return it now.”
By the sword, he was making a mess of it. “The stone does not matter. Patrik has a fever. We know not whether he will live.”
Her face paled. “God in heaven, I must see him.”
The desperation of her words did not move him. But if her presence helped Patrik, so be it.
“Please, I beg of you—”
“You do nae have to ask.” Alexander grimaced. “’Tis why I came.”