Chapter 22
H uddled within the dense bushes behind Auld Maggie’s croft, with Wolf’s great head clutched to her chest, Birdi reverently prayed for Angus’s safety and for those she’d come to care about.
The Macarthur had come for only her, and now innocent men were screaming and dying. Crying out for help. Were the cries those of the MacDougall’s or Ian’s? If so, she would never forgive herself. Or they forgive her. So much need battered her head and chest, but she sought only one. She would heed only one.
Wolf’s head came up and he started to whine. As he pulled at her skirt she realized the sound of battle had ceased. Oh, Goddess…
She then heard someone calling her name. She dashed the tears from her cheeks and rose but kept a hand on Wolf. Who had called her? The Macarthur? Oh, Angus.
“Birdi! Birdi!”
‘Twas Lady Beth’s husband! Thank ye Goddess, thank ye. But where is Angus?
With one hand on the wall, her other on Wolf, she ran back to the front of the croft, Wolf whining at her side.
Beth was the first to spy her and screamed, “Wolf!”
Before someone could throw a blade as Angus once had, she held up a hand and yelled, “Halt!”
Wolf, his ears back, snarled as if Birdi’s life depended on it. “Sssh, ‘tis alright. They’re friends.”
Wolf only snapped his jaws and growled louder.
Hoping she sounded calmer than she felt, she said, “No one move. Stand right where ye are. He’ll not harm me nor ye…if ye remain calm.”
She heard a man’s heavy breathing and looked right, her hope soaring. “Angus?”
A deep voice murmured, ““Tis I, Duncan.”
Why wasna Angus the one coming to her? “Where’s Angus?”
“Yon. Beth tends him.”
She yelped, “ Tends? ” and Wolf began to growl again. She placed a hand on his head. “Sssh, dautie, sssh.”
To Duncan she said, “Bring me to him. Now.” If Angus was injured, why hadna he reached out to her? Why was the need not full upon her? What ailed him? Was he not awake?
Duncan took her shaking hand. With every step Birdi prayed. When they came to a halt, his voice cracked as he whispered, “Here he is.”
“Oh, Angus, nay!”
Angus opened his eyes when he heard Bird’s strident keen, then felt her cool hands rush over him.
Fearing what would happen next, knowing he was dying, he choked out, “Get her away.”
Lady Beth murmured, “But Angus-”
Eyes closing, accepting what must be, he again ordered, “Take her away!”
Duncan growled, “Let her help.”
Angus shook his head. “Get Ian.”
His liege and lady didn’t understand what would happen should Birdi be allowed to touch him. Angus had deliberately shaded the truth in an effort to ease Birdi’s way into the clan. Only Ian knew the whole truth, and he would haul her away.
Duncan said, “Ian’s with the men chasing the last of the Macarthurs.” He placed a hand on Angus’s shoulder. “Let her help ye if she can. She loves ye.”
Angus struggled to open his eyes. “Aye. ‘Tis why she must go.”
As the light and arguing voices faded and all turned black, Angus regretted not being able to tell Birdi a final time that he loved her. He then wished he could see his Birdi’s beautiful eyes just one more time before he died.
Birdi jerked with awareness. There. She felt it, the need. Aye, he called but weakly. Heart hammering against her ribs, she ordered Duncan and Beth away, fearing if they touched Angus, Goddess wouldn’t come. She pushed back Wolf where he lay by her side then squatted, her feet spread wide beneath her in firm contact with Mother of All.
Shadows moved and voices murmured in question all around her. “Only for ye, dearest Angus, would I give my life.”
Birdi bent toward his ear, “Believe and trust in me.”
Praying his response wasna truly necessary, she placed cross palms upon his horrid wound and closed her eyes. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she pleaded aloud in the auld language, “Mother of All, ‘tis I, Birdi, and I beseech ye to come and help this man I love. Come, please, I beg ye.” An interminable number of heartbeats passed before she felt tingling heat moved up her legs. Her heart then slowed of it’s our accord, and her hands stopped shaking. Mother of all was again within her, and all would be well.
Birdi studied the scar marring Angus’s broad forehead, admired the fine shape of his lips and jaw a final time. Kenning full well what would happen and kenning even Auld Maggie could do naught to save her she said, “I, Birdi, take upon myself this wound so that this man I love may live.” As she waited for what would come, a strange calm settled over her. Her bairn would die with her, aye, but ‘twas just as well. No bairn, no matter how loved or wanted, should have to suffer more than she already had as surely it would.
Pain—worse than any she’d ever experienced—suddenly tore through her middle. Birdi doubled over. Unable to breathe, she toppled. Loud gasps from those around her followed.
Strong arms hauled her up and cradled her. How kind. A gruff voice growled, “What the hell is happening?” She kenned the arms about her to be Duncan’s. Oh, she hadn’t meant to frighten him so.
As the agitated voices grew distant, she whispered, “Tell Angus…I loved him.”
#
Angus reluctantly let go of Birdi’s hand so Duncan and one of the oarsman could carry Birdi up Blackstone’s bailey stairs. As they entered the great room, he found Beth scrubbing her hands in hot water. She nodded toward the table while Birdi’s wolf howled as if his heart were breaking on Drasmoor’s shore. “Put her down there. Auld Maggie, get over here.”
Dear God, how had this happened? Angus, pulled back from a black abyss, had opened his eyes and found his gut closed and Birdi stretched out across Duncan’s arms, her middle bleeding and open.
Beth tore open the cloth bundles she’d prepare in the event of accident or war.
Angus, tears cascading down his still blood smeared face, reached for Birdi’s hand. “Can ye help her?”
“I’m sure as hell going try.” Lady Beth reached for her boiled cotton rags and began cleaning the edges of Birdi’s huge wound. After muttering to herself about something called a hosputal , Beth said, “Maggie, I’m going to need all the help I can get. Prayer, poultices, whatever else ye can offer.”
The old woman, pale and apparently as shocked as the rest of them, nodded and started crooning in a language Angus had hear only once before.
After a few minutes of watching Beth’s hands shake every time the damn wolf howled, Angus growled, “Will somebody please shut that beast up or get him over here?”
He still couldn’t believe the furry menace—what he now understood to be her pet—had tracked them such a great distance.
Duncan ordered two men to take a boat across the bay. “Try feeding it. As a last resort fetch it back.”
Recalling the angry farmers of Inveraray, Angus said, “Try giving it a chicken, a pullet.”
Duncan leaned toward his wife. “What else can I do?”
“Keep the boiling water coming. Birdi’s more likely to die from infection—festering—than blood loss.”
‘Twas also Angus’s fear. Birdi’s horrendous bleeding had, thankfully, already eased.
Finished with cleaning the wound, Lady Beth pulled silk threads and needles from her bundle. “Hold her tight.”
Angus wrapped an arm about Birdi’s shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers. Duncan moved to hold down her ankles.
When Birdi didn’t so much as flinch with the first stitches, Angus’s fear escalated.
After an hour Beth finally straightened. Birdi had a neat row of stitches—thirty in number—just below her waist. Now slathered in ointment and wrapped in clean sheeting, Birdi was as tended as Beth’s and Auld Maggie’s skills could manage.
Lady Beth stepped back from the table. “Now all we can do is pray.”
Angus murmured, “Thank ye.”
Holding Birdi’s flaccid hand, he bent his head. Please, dear God, please help Birdi.
He should have died. He’d have gone willingly and faced the fires of hell. Why hadn’t she been willing to let fate take its course? Her pulse only fluttered beneath his fingers. He didna deserve her. If she survived, he would bring her back to her glen as she’d begged him to do time and again. And if she so wished it, he would stay with her. This time he would protect her.