Safety #2
The process was a slow one, one in which Moll retreated to the window and closed her eyes.
This very moment, in a chamber not so far away, she could only hope Charlotte had chosen to drink the brew, as well.
She bowed her head. ‘Twas difficult not to give in to her fears.
‘Twas nigh impossible to think thoughts of only happiness and health, for the sake of not only Charlotte, but Lady Haddon, as well.
A hand touched her sleeve, and she looked up to see Lord Haddon standing there, the cup empty in his hand. “Now?”
Moll glanced at the bed where Lady Haddon lay on her pillow, eyes closed. “We can only wait, my lord.”
Worried, he returned to his wife’s side.
Moll leaned her cheek against the window’s cool glass.
While she wished Lady Haddon well, her heart ached to be with Charlotte, convincing the young girl to return from the shadows, but then, Taran, at least, was there.
A blast of wind rattled the glass beneath her cheek and she gazed out, tiredly, over the rolling hills, and for a time, lost herself in memories of her mother and the distant past.
At times, the occasional crack of the fire brought her back to the present and to the room. ‘Twas when the sun began its evening descent that Lady Haddon moaned.
Moll flew to the bed as Lord Haddon rose to his feet, alarmed.
Lady Haddon’s lashes fluttered. Then, looking stronger with each passing moment, she turned her head from side to side. A slender arm escaped the mound of blankets and then pushed them back. “’Tis hot in here. Robert?”
Lord Haddon leaned close, moving as a man caught in a dream. “Yes?”
The woman’s smile summoned a touch of color to her face. “I’m thirsty,” she said in a strong voice. “Help me sit.” Even before Lord Haddon could move to assist, she struggled to sit on her own.
Moll’s shoulders sagged in relief.
Lady Haddon had chosen life.
Moll left them there, with Lord Haddon bellowing for Bridgette to bring water and Lady Haddon insisting she rise from the bed.
Moll flew out the iron-studded door and down the keep’s stairs with Doughall at her heels.
The Highlander stayed by her side, his glare alone causing the queen’s guard to step aside as she rushed up the north tower stairs.
She must have looked a mad thing, her hair streaming wildly behind her as she burst into the chamber, causing the door to bounce off the chamber wall,
Jamie and Wee Jack cried out, lunging forward to throw their arms about her waist. She patted their heads, squinting in the gathering gloom toward the bed, but Taran’s broad shoulders blocked her view.
“Charlotte?” she gasped, filling with dread.
Then, Francis stepped into view. He was smiling.
“Moll?” a weak voice sounded from the bed.
Suddenly, she was at Charlotte’s side as Taran’s arm fell about her shoulders, but Moll only had eyes for Charlotte, for the flush of color on her cheeks and the light in her eyes.
‘Twas then Moll sank to the floor and let the tears flow. ‘Twas done. By some miracle, the single mushroom had been enough. She closed her eyes and wept into the crook of her arm.
“Don’t—dinna—weep, Moll,” Charlotte whispered, patting her awkwardly on the head.
Moll smiled into the coverlets. Let her mimic the Highlander as much as she pleased.
A strong hand squeezed her shoulder. “I dinna doubt ye, lass.”
“’Twas luck,” she whispered into the blanket.
As she moved to stand, a strong arm caught her about the waist to lift her easily onto the bed. The strength of the man surrounded her, again, making her feel safe, despite the danger they were still, undoubtedly, in.
“Ye should rest,” Taran murmured, his brows drawn in a concerned line. “Ye look fair exhausted.”
“Here, Moll.” Charlotte patted the pillow by her side.
Gently, Taran guided Moll down on the bed by Charlotte’s side.
“You, too, Athair.” The little girl caught Taran’s sleeve with a smile.
“Aye,” he agreed readily enough.
He settled at Moll’s side, sliding an easy arm beneath her shoulders and pulling her head back so that she rested upon his shoulder. He was right. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before, but now? Now, she felt warm. Safe. Loved. Surrounded by the family she’d never truly had.
Lips brushed softly over the top of her head and then sleep swept her away.
* * *
When Moll next opened her eyes, Charlotte lay, breathing easy, and at the foot of the bed, James, Jamie, and Wee Jack snored in a comfortable pile. The twins lay, mouths open, on their pallets in front of the door.
Moll smiled in relief.
Then, the solid warmth pressed against her back invaded her thoughts.
Sweet Mary, she lay in Taran’s arms, but she didn’t want to move.
Lord help her, ‘twas exactly where she wished to be.
She held still, keenly aware of the rise and fall of his chest against her back and the heat of his thighs settled against hers.
His hand rested so naturally on the curve of her hip, the pillow-bairn having long since slipped near to her knees.
Their future was a hopeless one, of course.
They had none. Would that he was a simple peasant, or she a lady…
he would be more than she’d ever dreamed possible in a man.
She must have turned, though she didn’t remember doing so.
Suddenly, she was on her back, staring up into his face as he leaned over her, propped on his elbow.
His lashes were so long and dark, the darkness making the blue of his even brighter. Mesmerized, she could only hold still as he lifted his hand and brushed her cheek with his thumb.
‘Twas a touch of fire.
Lord help her, but she wanted him and from the very depths of her soul. She wanted his lips on her skin, his fingers on her flesh. A wave of heat spiraled through her body. With him, she knew the act of bedding would be something pleasing—nay, ‘twould be near magical.
Her eyes snapped to his. The invisible weight of his gaze made it hard to breathe. As the corner of his eyes creased into a smile, her insides began to churn. What power did this man hold that a simple brush of his thumb made her feel so much more than ever before?
The chime of the morning bells rang through the air. About them, the children stirred.
Yet, strangely, the magic of the moment still held, even as Taran hefted his feet from the bed and stretched. She couldn’t drag her eyes away from his broad shoulders and the sensual drape of his kilt falling over his powerful thighs.
“Charlotte?” Francis asked, vaulting to his feet.
The little girl groaned, then snapped, “Hush,” before burrowing deeper into the pillows.
Francis grinned as Moll began shaking the younger children awake. “’Tis morning, poppets,” she said, so relieved to be with them safely again. “’Tis time to eat.”
‘Twas then she noticed Taran before the window, staring out with his lips drawn in a grim line.
Alarmed, she hurried to join him there. “What is it?”
He laced her fingers through his and brought them to his lips, then murmured, “I will return.”
Wordlessly, he strode out the door. As the latch clicked shut, Moll squinted through the diamond-paned glass.
“’Tis the guards,” George said from over her shoulder.
“Lord Haddon’s men are gone,” Francis added from the other side. “’Tis only the queen’s guard walking the walls now.”
‘Twas disturbing, though exactly why, she couldn’t say. “No matter.” She shrugged and then turned to the boys. “Fetch food for us all, will you? I’m of the mind we shouldn’t leave until Charlotte’s on her feet.”
“Will that not only draw attention if we were suddenly to disappear?” George asked, concerned.
Moll hesitated, then shook her head. “’Twill only make Euphemia happy, and with the queen’s arrival, we’ve no place in the hall, most assuredly.”
“True,” George granted.
“Then, we’ll be back. Soon.” Francis was already moving toward the door.