Chapter 39
Caelan
We reached the cabin by nightfall. The snow, which had started to fall in earnest about twenty minutes prior, had me pushing Mack to his absolute limit, but I needed to get Rowan indoors.
She was frozen solid, shaking with cold despite her thick cloak.
With only the thin dirty shift beneath it and nothing else apart from the socks I’d put on her, there wasn’t much keeping her warm.
And she’d stiffened every time I had tried to wrap my arms around her.
Inside, she stood in the middle of the room, shivering from head to toe while I tried to get the fire lit as quickly as I could. Mack, unfortunately, had been left to fend for himself in the bare stable, and I was conscious of that while I worked.
When the fire finally caught, I turned to her. “Come stand by the fire while I go sort out Mack.”
She looked up, but didn’t move closer. The blank mask on her face nearly killed me. Every time I saw it, I burned with an anger I had never known before. Burned to go back and gut the bastard who had taken her from me.
I stepped towards the door, my eyes still on her, and when it closed behind me, I finally heard her moving about.
Looking up at the night sky, I beseeched the gods. How can I reach her? How can I help her? Please just tell me how I can help her.
But of course, only the bleakness of the falling snow stared back at me.
I headed for the stable, my thoughts in turmoil.
I’d noticed how she had taken one look at the sole bed and her entire body had tensed before she had turned away, eyes downcast. My breath clouded the air as I heaved a sigh.
I would have to worry about that later. For now, I had a job to do.
Get Mack unsaddled, fed and watered, and tucked away as fast as I could.
I didn’t want to leave Rowan alone for too long.
As I went through the motions, my thoughts remained on my mate. She was a shadow of herself. A tiny little bird who had lost the will to fly. I just needed a way to get through to her, to break through to who she used to be.
If only she would talk to me. Tell me what she needed.
I hadn’t realised how desperately I missed the sound of her voice. The physical wounds, the ones I could see, anyway, were already healing. But the mental ones… Those were what concerned me. Without her telling me what was wrong, how she was feeling, I couldn’t help her.
When I reached out though our bond, it was like trying to wade through a thick layer of mud.
The only emotions I could feel were fear, anxiety, unease, mistrust. There were no errant thoughts flowing down the line.
Nothing but endless black. I wished I could take it from her.
Could give her back her light, her happiness.
Another heavy breath stained the air, and I patted Mack on the rump as I gathered the saddle bags and headed back inside.
Candlelight wavered when I opened the door, the cool breeze disturbing the flames.
A pile of men’s clothes was on the bed, but Rowan was standing close to the fire, still in her wet cloak.
Stamping my boots, I hurried in, closing the door behind me.
“You’ll be wanting to get changed, then? Have a bath?” I asked.
A bath? She looked around the room, searching. When her eyes landed on the half wine barrel in the corner, I knew she understood.
“Aye, a bath.”
I pulled it closer to the fire, then grabbed the metal bucket near the door before venturing out again. When I returned, the bucket now full of water, she still stood in the same place. Frozen. Dripping.
“There’s a well out back,” I said, pouring the water into the barrel.
I decided if she was not going to talk to me, out loud anyway, then I would talk to her.
Maybe hearing my voice would somehow break her free of whatever kept her trapped inside.
“It’s nearly frozen solid, but I should get enough for you to have a wee bath. ”
I ventured out six more times. When I returned with the last bucket, it was full of snow, the water having run out.
I placed it on the grate above the fire, letting the flames heat it through.
When it was boiling, I lifted it with the poker and placed it into the barrel, bucket and all, letting the warm water seep out slowly while the metal heated the remainder.
Dipping my fingers in, I checked the temperature before turning to her. “Your bath, madam.” I gave her a small bow.
Her lip twitched and I thought for a second that she might smile, but she turned her head away instead. A small ray of hope blossomed in my chest anyway.
“Go on, get in before it gets cold. Leave your shift on if it’ll make you feel better.”
Giving her my back, I turned to rummage through the saddle bags, listening as she hesitantly made her way to the tub. A candle was extinguished, throwing shadows over my shoulder. When I heard her step in, the water sloshing, I tentatively looked back.
She was seated upright, her knees tucked against her chest, her head resting against the wooden rim.
Her eyes were closed, so I spared a moment to look her over.
I so wanted to go to her. To touch her, but I knew she would not welcome that.
Not yet. Instead, I made a small noise so she would not be startled, then moved closer to the tub.
“Here, lass.” I held out the piece of soap I had retrieved from my bag.
She glanced down, looking into the water as if to check she was not exposed, before cautiously reaching out to take it from me.
She sniffed it, frowned a little, then sniffed it again.
It was a wood and pine scent, my usual soap, so I was unsure what caused that tiny crease to mar her brow.
Whatever it was, she let it go, starting to lather up and clean herself with a vengeance.
I busied myself with the fire while she washed, only turning back when I heard her splashing around.
She was struggling with her hair, not able to lower herself enough to get it thoroughly wet.
She was trying to dunk her head forward when I stepped closer.
She peered at me through a curtain of hair, her eyes bruised. Fearful.
My gut clenched.
“Will you let me help you?” I didn’t wait for a response, knowing one would not come.
Instead I knelt beside the bath and dipped the mug I had found into the water.
“Lean forward a bit more,” I directed, and when she did, I took that as consent and poured the water over her head.
I continued until it was nice and wet. “Soap?” She had it clenched in her hand, the small bar nearly squashed into a ball.
She looked at it in surprise before placing it in my open palm.
Lathering up my hands, I tried to be as gentle as I could, yet she still flinched when I touched her, tensing up beneath my fingers.
My jaw clenched as I tried not to show her that it bothered me.
Instead, I continued with my slow attentions, working the lather through her long strands and then massaging it into her scalp.
A small sigh sounded, and her head lolled as her neck finally loosened up.
I continued well past the time needed to complete the task.
But I was reluctant to stop. She was allowing me to touch her and… it was everything.
“Rinse.”
She leant forward and I tipped the rapidly cooling water over her head. When her hair parted, something stood out on the back of her neck.
“What is that?”
I tried to move her hair out of the way, but she pulled away, slapping her hand over the back of her neck. She looked back at me and shook her head vigorously.
“What was that, Rowan?”
She only shook her head again, but I was determined to find out. It looked like an injury of some sort, and I needed to ensure it was treated, especially if it wasn’t healing on its own.
“Show me,” I insisted, bringing a candle closer.
Her eyes, wide and fearful, told me no, as did the way she was trying to pull further away. I hated that I was the cause, especially with what I was about to say.
“Show me or I will pull you from that bath and look for myself. Move your hand.”
She started to shake, but whether it was the directness of my words or the threat I had no intention of carrying out, she hunched forward, wrapping her arms about her knees. Loosing a breath, I parted her hair with a gentleness I didn’t feel.
I wasn’t certain what I was looking at. It looked like two Vs, still red and raw. Still healing. One was the right way up while the other was upside down, crossing over each other in the middle.
My breath caught in my throat.
What the fuck?
“He branded you?”
I gulped in air, trying to calm myself, but the longer I eyed that VA, the more the flames beneath my skin strained. She ducked her head, putting her hands over her ears, but I scarcely noticed, rearing back with a guttural roar.
“He carved his initials into you!” My ears pounded as I paced the room.
“I’m going to kill him. If Aenan hasn’t already, I’m going to fucking kill him.
” I swung back towards her. “He branded y— Shite. Shh, it’s okay.
You’re okay.” The sound of the water sloshing over the side of the tub and Rowan’s laboured breaths finally got through to me and I was at her side in an instant, my hands grasping hers.
I rubbed my thumbs back and forth over her knuckles.
“You’re okay. Shh. I’m okay. We’re okay. ”
I kept rubbing, trying to calm her, until her breathing was under control. She was still shaking, but now I suspected it was from the cold.
“Come on. You need to get out now. Let me find something to dry you with.”
Her teeth started to chatter while I searched the room, eventually finding a blanket tucked into the cupboard.
I held it up, blocking my view, and bade her get out of the water.
When I could see her toes peeking out from beneath the blanket, I wrapped it around her securely, only then noticing the discarded shift sinking to the bottom of the tub.
She stood there, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her face once again that numb facade.
Broken.
I tucked in the ends of the blanket and moved her to stand before the fire, in front of the chair I sat in. “Rowan?” I said, giving her warning. “I’m going to hold you now. Just hold you.”
Wrapping my arms about her waist, I pulled her onto my lap, tucking her head beneath my chin.
She sat stiffly, her breath catching. But as I smoothed my hand up and down her back, comforting her – or perhaps myself – I felt her relax.
Felt her chest ease. And before too long, her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing deepened. She slept.
I sat there for hours. Holding her against me as if she were the most precious thing in the world. And she was. It wasn’t the bonding day I’d been expecting – wishing for – but it ended with her in my arms, and for that… I was grateful.