Chapter 11
Once Edwina left, James gave her words heavy consideration.
What she had hinted at so enigmatically—the idea that he might one day be restored to some semblance of his former self, that his days as a warrior might not be over—was intriguing to him.
Under normal circumstances, he might have naturally assumed that these were simply pleasing fairy tales told to him by his caretakers to keep his spirits up.
A fighter with a useless leg was little more than a liability to his fellow soldiers, after all, and he would sooner have died than become such a burden to his clansmen.
He’d fought side by side with such men before.
Fellows who had lost a leg or an arm yet still maintained that they were every bit as good as they had been prior to such losses.
They were applauded for their bravery and stalwart natures and hailed for their endless perseverance, but more often than not, when they were in the heat of battle, they ended up relying on their comrades far more than they otherwise would have.
Those comrades rarely, if ever, raised a complaint; to do so would be to show grave disrespect to a fellow warrior.
But sometimes, these things got them killed.
And almost inevitably, the wounded man ended up dying shortly after.
Even men with one eye who persisted in fighting often found their blindsides exploited and paid a terrible price for it.
James did not wish to be such an added weight on his companions.
Especially since he was not merely a soldier himself but a leader of men.
How could the others possibly draw any strength or inspiration from one who was provably lesser?
How could they be expected to follow into war a man who could not look after himself?
He loathed the idea that this might be his fate. He would sooner die.
With these dark thoughts in mind, yes, it was nearly impossible for him to put any faith in the assurances Edwina had given him. They seemed to bear little resemblance to reality as he understood it.
And yet…
He loathed to admit it, but some part of him desperately wanted—no, needed—to believe. Those words represented all that remained of a potential future for him in which he was of any use to anyone, including himself. The only future that mattered to him that was worth living for.
Yes, from someone else, he would have dismissed her claims entirely. However, she had made such a point of insisting that there would be no falsehoods between them. She had clearly stated that to lie to each other would serve no useful purpose in healing him.
And she had been bluntly and brutally honest with him up until now, hadn’t she?
She’d had no use for sugared words or niceties where he was concerned.
Indeed, the one and only thing he had known about her before her arrival, other than the fact that she was Darina’s sister, was that she was known for having a waspish tongue and for not censoring herself in the slightest in that regard.
If there was anyone in the world who would not mince words with him, who would have neither reason nor inclination to tell him anything that wasn’t true, it was Edwina. That was clear enough.
He was still bewildered by her healing skills.
The idea of a noblewoman studying such things so closely and becoming so proficient in them herself was almost beyond his comprehension.
Even the most intelligent and conscientious noblewomen he’d known would never have even considered learning such skills, let alone putting them into practice.
He found himself deeply fascinated by that.
By her in general, really.
When she had first come to him, he had been too blinded by his pain and anger to care about who she was or to notice anything about her.
She was simply another phantom in the fog that surrounded him, barely defined, lecturing and berating him for his behavior in precisely the same manner that his sister-in-law and brother had for months.
Another meaningless voice to add to the chorus of disapproval, another shrill irritant to be blocked out with another drop or two of laudanum so he could peacefully return to his haze of numb self-hatred.
As she’d managed to distinguish herself from that, he had, in his addled and anguished fury, begun to find her truly despicable.
What right did she have to burst into his chamber (and his life) and make unreasonable demands of him?
To disrupt his routine with her meddling, to get between him and the one thing that had made his life vaguely bearable for the past several months?
Who did she think she was, and why wouldn’t she leave him alone?
Now that the laudanum was just starting to leave his system, he saw her with entirely new eyes.
She was straightforward, and even if that made her mocking and insufferable at times, he found that he appreciated her unvarnished candor nonetheless.
She had managed to cut through the clouds of opium and make him hear her, fully and clearly.
She’d challenged him rather than coddling him, and more than anyone else, she seemed to have a clear and thorough understanding of precisely what he was going through…
and, perhaps, how to liberate him from his suffering.
In short, he’d never known another woman like her.
Even after Fergus had found his “one true love” in Darina, James had, for the most part, eschewed romantic entanglements.
He’d avoided them for the reason that he knew he would be bound by the rules of propriety to eventually select some noblewoman to wed, and he had been hugely bored and annoyed by most of the noblewomen he’d ever encountered.
Most of them were spoiled, feather-brained, superficial, and just generally tiresome.
He had nothing in common with them, for they knew nothing of serious matters.
They had never taken the sorts of risks he had in battle; they had never seen their comrades die in the dust within reach of them or helped to rule over a clan; their interests were silly to him, their concerns idiotic.
Even those who were considered especially “intelligent” compared to their peers were only seen as such because they were conversant in the contents of books, which were still far removed from the harsher realities of life.
What could he possibly have to say to such women in a single night, let alone a lifetime of wedlock? How could he be expected to raise children with such women when they shared no common ground whatsoever?
For the first time in his life, though, it seemed as though he had finally met a woman who did not drive him to distraction.
And, of course, there was the matter of her appearance.
Again, when she had first arrived, he’d been too focused on his own agony and shame to even notice how she looked.
What difference could such a thing possibly have made to him in his besotted condition?
Ever since he had begun taking the laudanum in earnest, he’d had no use for the charms of women.
It was as though the part of him which had once known how attraction felt had been removed.
Now, however, it seemed to be back. With a vengeance.
When she was not present, he found himself thinking about her red hair, so long that it brushed the small of her back, and her vivid blue eyes.
She did not dress in the lacy, stodgy, impractical finery preferred by so many noblewomen.
Rather, her clothes were far more comfortable and utilitarian, and he found that surprisingly appealing as it spoke to her sensible nature.
There was no frivolity about her, and clearly, she was well acquainted with matters of life and death.
He found that strangely alluring and discovered that he was increasingly eager to spend time with her.
As if on cue, the door opened, and Edwina entered with a tray bearing another bowl. “Am I disturbing you?”
“No, not at all!” he answered (a little too quickly). “I was hoping you would return soon.”
She laughed. “Yes, yes, not to worry, I have more of the remedy for you to take. Although your pain appears less acute than it was the last time I saw you.”
“It does seem so, as a matter of fact. And I was not longing for your company merely for the next dose of medicine, though it is certainly appreciated.”
She nodded briskly. “Yes, I can only imagine how lonely it must get in here. I wish I could say that you will be released on your own recognizance in the near future, but in truth, that is unlikely and will largely depend upon your rate of recovery.”
He wanted to tell her that it was not mere loneliness for company in general that made him miss her when she was away.
However, he worried that this might be inappropriate and thus make her uncomfortable.
Instead, he simply accepted the next dose of the remedy and was pleased to feel it working its wonders on him almost instantly.
“Now, I believe we ought to try to feed you something slightly more substantial than broth. This soup ought to do the trick. If only there were some surface for you to eat it from more comfortably…”
“Aye, I suppose I made quite the mess of things in here, didn’t I?” he observed sheepishly.
Edwina raised an eyebrow. “You did indeed. I believe I might have a solution, though, if you’ll permit me?” She opened the door a bit wider, calling out to an unseen party: “You may bring them in now, I think!”
Within moments, several servants entered the room carrying new furniture—a desk and chair, a bed frame, and a wardrobe.
“Where did these come from?” James asked, delighted.
Clearly, she was pleased by his reaction. “Your brother purchased them from a craftsman in the nearest village. Once I give him my considered opinion that you would no longer be inclined to destroy your own belongings. Do make an attempt not to prove me wrong in that regard?”
“I shall, I promise!” He sat at the desk and began to eat the soup straightaway. This time, his stomach did not lurch and roar in protest, and he was able to appreciate the flavors of the food in a way he had not managed in quite a long time.
“Steady, steady!” she laughed. “Your enthusiasm is promising, but you don’t want to overtax your stomach in the process!”
He forced himself to slow down, but even so, the bowl was empty in minutes. He felt some of his old strength coming back, and with it, clarity of mind. “That was marvelous, thank you.”
“I am happy you enjoyed it and that you like the furniture as well. However, there is one final object which I believe we might find room for in here.”
A pair of servants entered, carrying a bathtub. Several more followed closely, bearing pots of steaming water.
“The time has most decidedly come,” she announced, “for you to have a bath.”