Chapter Twenty-Five
Victor was placed into a bedchamber that he
might rest his backside. His brother-within-the-law swallowed some
manner of compact herbs and fell into a deep slumber on his
stomach. Lachlan and his wife were given rooms just down the
hallway, their bedchamber next to Victor’s. Finn and Ramsay were to
sleep on Victor’s floor this eve on mattresses that had been
carried upstairs. For now, his men stayed with him and Veronica so
as not to disturb Victor’s sleep. The supper meal would soon be
served. After they partook of it his best warriors could take to
their mattresses.
“I dinna ken how you faced off with so many
of those infected in the future and lived to tell the tale,
milady,” Finn said, shaking his head. “I’m as exhausted as I’d be
had I faced an army on the battlefield.”
“I admit it was more difficult back when I
didn’t have any guns on me.” Veronica shrugged. “I guess it’s just
like anything else in life. You get used to it.”
“I dinna wish to grow accustomed to that,”
Ramsay said. He shook his blond head. “’Tis an abomination.”
“Trust me,” Veronica said, sighing, “I don’t
want to get used to it again either. That’s why Victor figured out
how to take us to your time—so we wouldn’t have to.”
“I respect you, lady,” Finn said with a
seriousness. “I always did, but after this day?” He blew out a
breath. “Ramsay is right-headed in his thinking. Those things are
abominations to all that is holy.”
“I know. Believe me when I say I get
that.”
Lachlan’s gaze was reserved for Veronica.
All his men had said was true. And his warrior wife was
wondrous.
The supper meal was pleasant enough if
o’ercrowded. The kitchens were feeding not only the head table and
soldiers’ tables, but the everra streaming in line of hungry
Campbell villagers seeking warm food and ale. The gesture of
goodwill toward the hungry peasants gave Lachlan much to reconsider
aboot The Campbell. Euan was mayhap a surly old mon, but he
obviously cared for the well-being of his clan. ‘Twas for that
reason he decided to propose an alliance betwixt their two
clans.
“I can agree to that!” Euan said, raising
his goblet. ‘Twas obvious the elder laird was deep in his cups, but
not so bad that he wouldna remember his own declaration. Lachlan
raised his goblet in response, their cups clanking afore they
drank.
“To a renewed alliance,” Lachlan said.
“To a renewed alliance,” Euan pledged
back.
The gathered crowd cheered. It had taken the
evil happenstance of the resurrected dead for the two clans to
become allies again, yet allied they now were.
Thinking aboot his wife and
brother-within-the-law’s peace of mind, Lachlan decided that afore
their party took their leave on the morrow he would take Euan aside
and instruct him to warn his clan not to speak to outsiders aboot
their shared ordeal. Leastways, none would believe them. ‘Twas best
for the official story to be that a known affliction had spread
through Campbell land. Neither laird could stop the gossips from
wagging their tongues, he realized, yet the lairds could stand
together in their approved telling of the tale.
*****
Early the next morning, everyone in their
party save her injured brother set out with Euan and his men to
clear the village of any remaining undead, but, as Veronica had
predicted, no more infected existed. They piled the bodies they had
brought final deaths to yesterday in a stack away from the huts.
When they were finished, the bodies were set afire in the snow. It
was a challenge, but they were steadily burning.
“Mayhap we should add pig fat that they burn
faster,” one of Euan’s soldiers suggested.
The chorus of “nays!” that rang out in
response caused Veronica to snort. She immediately felt contrite,
realizing there was nothing humorous about the situation. It was
just the way so many had shouted “nay!” in unison that had caught
her off guard and inadvertently hit her square in the funny bone.
Luckily, it looked as though nobody had heard the small sound she’d
made.
Good grief. She was overtired and needed to
watch herself. She recognized the solemnity of the occasion. She
glanced at her husband and mouthed a sorry. He shook his head a
bit, his eyes telling her all was well.
“You need boiling tar,” Lachlan told Euan.
“Whether the bodies burn all the way down or not, you needs must
pour it all o’er them. It should be poured o’er the burned down
huts too.”
The old laird grunted. He sent a couple of
his men off to procure it, though the task would likely take days
to complete.
“Victor said the huts should be thoroughly
cleaned out,” Veronica told Euan. “Once that’s done your people can
move back into them.”
“Thank you, milady.”
She gave him a commiserating half-smile.
“You’re very welcome, milord.”
From there, Lachlan, Finn, and Ramsay
wrangled down the horses, fed and watered them, and hitched up
something akin to a stretcher on wheels to one of them in order to
take Victor back home. When Victor was asked if he wished them to
remain with the Campbells another day so he could heal a bit more,
he adamantly shook his head in the negative. He wanted to mend in
his own bed with Catriona nearby.
Veronica softly smiled down to her brother
as he was laid on his stomach in the makeshift, mobile bed. She
understood how he felt. Castle Cumhacht genuinely was their home
now; there was no place like it. She realized it wasn’t the castle
itself so much as the people within it. Indeed, as she took to her
horse and her gaze found Lachlan’s, she felt a contented joy she’d
never experienced before he’d forced his way into her heart.
Yesterday he had saved her life. This morning she understood he’d
saved it in more ways than one.
Her husband had protected her from herself,
from the emotional walls she’d erected around her mind and heart.
Back in the future, getting close to another person was impractical
and therefore inconceivable. She had brought that hardness, that
jadedness, with her to the past, yet through his kindness and
patience he had slowly worn down her defenses.
They arrived home at dusk and, as expected,
Catriona took one look at Victor and paled. To her credit, she
didn’t cry. She quickly took charge of her husband’s wellbeing,
ordering servants to do this, that, and the other at her behest on
his behalf. Catriona basically locked Victor and herself into their
bedroom, insisting he not get out of bed much less leave the room
until he was healed.
Dinner was a jubilant affair. At Lachlan’s
invitation, Euan and James rode in for it with three of their men.
The two lairds clanked goblets as they reconfirmed their new
allyship. In a show of goodwill, a Gunn woman would be sent to the
Campbells to marry one of Euan’s best warriors—if not James
himself—and a Campbell woman would be sent to the Gunns to marry
either Finn or Ramsay. Veronica was less than thrilled that the
women had no choice in the matter, but also realized this was how
things were done. Nevertheless, if she ever bore Lachlan a
daughter, she would make her husband promise that their daughter’s
fate would be her own no matter how out of place such a thing was
for the time period. Speaking of which…
Veronica rubbed her belly. She hadn’t told
Lachlan yet, but she knew she was pregnant. She could feel it in
her bones. She could also feel it in her belly every morning when
she endured a bout of morning sickness. Her husband looked at her
strangely when she turned down mead in lieu of water, but said
nothing about it.
After she finished eating, she excused
herself, explaining that she wished to check on her brother. She
found Victor lying in bed on his side, his wife feeding him as
though he was an infant. Veronica smiled. She might have shot him
in the ass, but she’d also done what she felt was her duty and
saved his life. Regardless of what their parents thought—or, she
conceded, perhaps hadn’t thought—she believed protecting
Victor was her responsibility and she had fulfilled it.
On his part, Victor was certain the
Campbells would be passing down an immunity to DR-71 to their
progeny, a fact that would surely change the future in some manner.
Maybe it wouldn’t be a radical change, but perhaps it would. At the
very least, the future should have a future now; there would be
more than just a remnant of humanity left to fight the eaters,
immune to their bites. For that reason, Victor also believed he’d
fulfilled his purpose on this earth and looked forward to spending
the rest of his days inventing bidet-toilettes and sewage
structures… and loving Catriona with all that he was.
“I think we did a good job,” Victor said.
“Mom and dad would be proud of both of us.”
She smiled. “They would. But from now on,”
she semi-chastised him, “stay in your own lane and I’ll stay in
mine.”
“What do you mean?” Catriona inquired.
Veronica explained what had happened at the
Campbells. She spoke with much affection about her brother
protecting her from an eater. She could see the worry and pride in
Catriona’s eyes. “He’s a hero, but he damn near made my heart
stop.”
“I ken why!” her sister-in-law exclaimed,
her hand going to her hip. “Victor, you willna take up arms again.
I willna have it!”
Victor sniffed. “But I—”
“Nay.” Catriona was having none of it. “I
wed with a sorcerer and a sorcerer you shall remain. Vow it to
me.”
Veronica’s eyebrows rose. Maybe she couldn’t
get the Wizard of Apple Creek to agree to stay in his own lane, but
it appeared her sister-in-law could.
“Oh all right, I vow it,” Victor sighed,
giving up. “Truthfully, I prefer science to swords anyway.”
“Thank you, my love,” Catriona breathed out.
“I would not have you worrying me o’er your person everra day.”
Veronica smiled. All was right in her world
again. Victor was the Banks family’s genius and she was its
bad-ass. And speaking of bad-asses…
It was time to go back to Lachlan. She
missed him and craved his nearness. She was stopping in their room
first, though, before returning to the supper party. After all,
Hero needed to eat. And, she thought, stifling a grin, she had a
circlet to put on.