Chapter 20 #3
What happened next was lost in the murky haze of confusion that descended when the MacLeods learned that their chief lay dangerously injured. Once Alex checked to make sure no evidence remained of their entry, the cry for help went up and chaos reigned.
Through it all, Isabel refused to leave Rory’s side. Vaguely, she recalled holding his hand as someone—perhaps Deidre?—dug the arrow from his stomach and stitched the gaping wound closed. She must have blocked the rest from her memory, because after that she could remember nothing.
Smoky, mist-filtered moonbeams bathed the solar in ghostly semidarkness.
Relishing the quiet, Isabel sat patiently at his bedside.
Needing to be alone with him, she’d sent everyone else away.
Nothing more could be done for him right now; they would have to wait to see whether he survived the fever that was sure to follow such a horrible injury.
That he survived an arrow in his gut this long was a miracle in itself, but it had hit in the perfect spot.
An inch or two in any direction, and he would already be dead.
She fidgeted restlessly, trying to find anything to occupy her hands. At a time like this, patience seemed unattainable. He looked so helpless, she thought as she bathed his head with cool water.
Long dark lashes fluttered, then opened to graze his brow.
“Where am I?” he groaned weakly, his blue eyes burning with an unnatural brightness.
The fever had arrived.
“Our chamber.” She shushed him. “Don’t try to talk. You are safe but need your energy.”
He tossed his head back and forth against his pillow as if he fought unconsciousness. “Isabel, you must get Alex. I must speak with him, he needs to know—”
“Shh. Sleep, Rory. You need your rest, you can tell Alex in the morning.”
“No, you don’t understand. I must speak with him now, he will be the next chief.” His voice took on a fevered urgency.
The truth hit her hard. He thinks he is going to die.
“Please, Rory, you must keep calm. If that is what you want, I’ll get him.”
“Hurry, Isabel. After I talk to Alex, I want to speak with you. I need you to know something.”
She found Alex asleep before the fire in the hall downstairs. He looked awful. She hated to wake him. From the dark shadows of weariness around his eyes, it looked as though he had only just fallen asleep.
She placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly. “Alex, wake up. Rory wishes to speak with you. Hurry, he’s quite anxious.” Bleary-eyed, a startled Alex followed her up the spiral stairs to Rory’s chamber.
She motioned him into the room. “I’ll wait outside, he wants to speak with you privately.”
Alex nodded and closed the door behind him.
Anxiously, she stood in the hallway, staring at the door. Watching, waiting for any sound that he might need her. She took a few steps closer and frowned. Did Rory know there was a crack between the door and casing that allowed a sliver of light to shine from the room into the hallway?
The sound of raised voices riled her anger.
Didn’t Alex realize how weak his brother was?
What could they be arguing about at a time like this?
Rory made a loud gasping sound, followed by a gurgled cough.
Isabel leapt to the door, peering through the crack to make sure he was all right.
Her eyes flew to his face, and she sighed with relief.
His breathing was uneven, but there was a fierce, determined glow in his eyes.
It took her a moment to realize what was happening. Too late, she realized her mistake. She wasn’t supposed to see this.
“Reach behind the headboard of the bed and twist the wooden knob that you will find there. It looks like part of a carving.… Yes, that’s it.
Now reach under the bed and you will find a hidden drawer has opened.
The box is in there. Bring it out and place it on the bed.
Careful.” Rory’s voice sounded strained but steady.
Isabel’s heart was beating at a frenzied pace. She knew she should look away, but she’d already seen enough. She’d learned his secret: where he kept the flag. The solemnity of the moment was not lost on her. He sounded like a king bequeathing his kingdom. He can’t die.
“Now push the carving of the MacLeod badge and the box will open. Take out the flag.”
“Rory, I don’t need to do this, you are going to be—”
“I should have told you where it was before. The flag must be kept safe. Now take it out!”
Alex lifted it up and held it right before her eyes. The prize that had brought her to Dunvegan hung not ten feet in front of her.
Somehow she’d thought a magical talisman would look more impressive. The famous Fairy Flag of the MacLeods was a thin, raggedy length of red-and-yellow silk fabric. Her nose wrinkled. It looked oddly familiar. She could have sworn she’d seen it before.
She watched as Alex reverently replaced the flag in its box and returned it to its hiding place. Well, she thought, he did keep it close, as she had suspected. She just didn’t realize she’d literally been sleeping on it for the last few months.
Isabel stepped back from the door, troubled by what she’d just witnessed. But she knew she would take the secret of the Fairy Flag to her grave. Her uncle would never hear of its location from her.
Moments later, Alex opened the door. “Rory wants to speak with you, Isabel.”
Their eyes met in mutual fear and pain. She knew Alex was thinking the same thing she was. Please don’t let him die.
Rory’s eyes were closed as she approached the bed. His skin glowed pale with a gray tinge in the candlelight, much different from its normal burnished gold. Sensing her presence, he blinked and then opened his eyes. Remarkably, his gaze was lucid.
He must have recognized her fear because he managed a weak smile of reassurance. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever could you be sorry for?” She rushed to his side, taking his hand as she knelt beside him. “You have done nothing to apologize for.” Confusion turned to anger when she realized what he was saying. “Don’t you dare apologize for dying. You are not going to be rid of me so easily.”
“My stubborn little Isabel.” He tried to smile, but she could see how his conversation with Alex had weakened him.
“Rory, you don’t have to explain anything.”
“Yes, I do. It’s not good,” he said, referring to his injury. He drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry that it could not have been different. Sending you back would have torn out my heart.” He winced with pain. “But I need you to know—”
The words stalled in his throat as pain racked his body.
Isabel felt her blood run cold. “Stop. Don’t say anything more. You need your strength.”
“No,” he rasped through clenched teeth, every sound an impossible strain. “It’s important. You need to know that you were not alone in your feelings. I need you to know that I love you.”
That brought her head up immediately. Her entire body seized with disbelief as her eyes fastened on his. “You l-love me?” she stuttered.
“More than I ever thought it possible to love another.”
A wave of happiness crashed over her. For a moment she forgot her fears, allowing the soothing warmth of his words to enfold her. Words she’d ached to hear. But not now. Not at a time like this. Tears blurred her vision. “Why did you not tell me before?”
“I thought it would make our parting more difficult. But I want nothing more between us.”
Guilt tore like acid through her veins. Now was the time to say something. If she was ever going to tell him why she had been sent to Dunvegan, this was the time. “Rory, I—”
The words stuck in her throat. Fear wrapped around her chest. Would he understand?
A heavy pause hung between them while her conscience warred with practicality.
Rory was dying. Anger would only weaken him.
What purpose would it serve to tell him now, when he had just declared his love?
She dared not risk that his last memory of her be one of betrayal rather than love.
He stroked her cheek, wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I love you, too,” she said instead. “I will always love you.” She pressed her face into his hand and said a silent prayer for forgiveness.
This was the happiest, most terrible moment of her life. He loved her, but he lay dying. It was so illogical, like a flower blooming in the ashes of hell.
She listened to his pained, shallow breathing growing steadier. Until at last he slept.