Page 42 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander (The Highland’s Lawson Sisters #3)

CHAPTER ONE

“ T here has to be someone.”

Magnus’ voice rang out in the empty room, echoing off the walls and the furniture as his mind toiled. He was pacing in his study, something he’d been doing for so long, he was surprised he hadn’t yet worn divots on the stone floor.

“There has to be someone.”

He repeated the words over and over again as if reciting a prayer. Storming back to his desk, he plopped into the chair. Raking his hands through his hair, he poured back over the letters that had come in earlier that day.

There had been three of them. Three responses that Magnus had been holding out hope for. Three responses that now had him feeling helpless.

Magnus could not stand feeling helpless. It made his blood boil. It made him want to scream. It made him want to bellow. It made him want to rage.

But he could not. He was a laird…

Sure, the title did afford him more grace than most. He was allowed to express and tap into the seething, bubbling mass of fury that lived deep within his belly, diverting that energy into war and sparring. He did have an entire clan to protect after all.

But Magnus still did not have the luxury to respond to his wrathful nature in the way that he wanted. If he did, his clan would always find themselves on the precipice of war.

So, he reined in that helpless, terrible rage and refocused his eyes on the paper.

He skimmed the words again, even though he knew he would find no solace within them.

It is with my sincerest apologies that I say I cannot help you. There is too much risk…

The girl doesn’t belong to me clan. I cannot be seen helping...

Y ou have done too much damage to my clan. I cannot offer help at this time…

One after the other, the refusals poured through. He couldn’t take any more.

Magnus did not give it a second thought as he began tearing the page to shreds.

It tore easily, much too easily to actually help Magnus with the anger bubbling inside of him. He threw it into the fire, happy as he saw the pieces slowly being eaten by the flames.

“I’ll find a way,” he promised, the helplessness bubbling inside of him, forming and solidifying into a cold, icy rage. “I’ll find a way to save her.”

There was a knock at the door, the sound of it pulling him out of his lament. Magnus turned quickly, his eyes falling on the massive oak door just as it opened.

One of his favorite maids, a young woman by the name of Janet, popped her head in through the door, her shoulders slightly hunched in defeat.

Magnus knew what she was going to say before she ever opened her mouth. But it did not soften the impact.

“She’s worse.”

The words hit Magnus like a blow, his stomach hollowing out as the reality of what had been spoken washed over him.

“How much worse?” he asked.

Janet just shook her head, clearly too upset to be able to answer.

“How much worse?” Magnus repeated, his voice hard and demanding.

Was it cruel for him to make someone so clearly dismayed talk about what was causing them pain? Perhaps. But he did not care. He needed to know, needed to be able to wrap his head around everything that was happening.

For better or for worse. Magnus needed the information.

He watched her face, taking note as her skin turned sallow. The fine lines at the corner of her face intensified as worry etched itself even deeper into them, making her appear decades older than her twenty-three years..

“We have mayhaps a fortnight,” she said in a haunted tone. “ If that. If she keeps progressin’ the way that she has been, it will be less.”

Janet’s words pumped ice into his blood, chills erupting over his skin as his stomach flipped.

A fortnight at most? How can I only have a fortnight left with me sister? I have to find someone. I have to find someone to help her.

His hands clenched into fists as his body began to shake.

“We cannae lose her,” Janet said, her voice breaking slightly.

Magnus returned his focus to her, seeing his own pain echoed on the maid’s face. Tears danced at the edge of her lash line, threatening to spill over. Even at a distance, he could see the shaking of her shoulders as she tried to hold herself together..

He could not blame her. His own heart was sinking, cracking at his feet at the thought of losing his sister, and at the way he knew it must be hurting the woman before him..

Janet, young as she may be, had taken care of Bethany in the seven years that she had worked for him. She had barely been more than a lass herself when he’d first hired her, but that did not stop her from loving Bethany as if the girl were her own.

It had endeared Magnus to her immediately, had made the young woman feel like family. And he knew that she was hurting right along with him at thought of losing Bethany.

“I’ll figure it out,” Magnus murmured to her, trying to imbue his voice with as much confidence as he could muster. “I daenae care what it takes, I will find her a healer, and I will find a way to save her.”

Janet’s throat bobbed as she gulped. “I truly hope we can. Did any of the healers respond to yer letters?”

As if on cue, the fire behind gave a merry pop, but she did not need to know of the contents he’d just fed into it. Magnus stared at Janet, unable to tell her that he’d heard from them, and they had denied his request for help.

Every last one of them.

“Nay,” Magnus shook his head, the lie sticking like ash in his throat. “I havenae heard back from them yet, but I’m certain I will soon.”

Janet nodded, looking back over her shoulder from the corridor where she’d come.

“I should get back to her,” she murmured. “I daenae want the lass to be alone too long. Nae when she’s in this state.”

Magnus nodded, praying that she couldn’t see the fury bubbling just below the surface that was working to drive out his panic. Janet turned, her boots clicking on the stone as she left, making her way back toward Bethany’s chambers.

Whirling toward the window, he glared out of it, across the lush green grounds of his castle. The sun shining down on the gardens was in cruel opposition to the icy fury pumping through his veins.

I cannae go through this again. I cannae be the one to nae help me family. I have to do somethin’.

Magnus did not spare another moment of thought. Pushing away from his desk, he prowled the corridor, looking for Dougal, his cousin and his man-at-arms.

Knowing Dougal as well as he did, Magnus felt certain he would find the man sparring with some of the other guards. Sure enough, the moment that Magnus got close to the sparring circle, he spotted Dougal’s cornsilk hair.

“Dougal!” Magnus barked, voice booming over the jeers of the surrounding men.

Immediately, the courtyard fell silent. All around him, men’s faces were filled with confusion, blinking at one another before turning their eyes to their Laird.

Dougal, however, was entirely caught up in the moment. He threw one last punch, landing it directly in the center of his sparring partner’s belly.

The other man, who had been distracted by Magnus’ arrival, doubled over. The breath left him with a grunt.

“Dougal,” Magnus barked again, finally garnering his cousin’s attention.

His cousin glanced at his wrapped knuckles, flexing them as he turned away from his still-winded opponent.

“What are ye pullin’ me from trainin’ for? Can ye nae get by without me for just a few hours?” Dougal asked in a humor-filled voice, still examining his hand.

But when his eyes flicked to Magnus, taking in his thunderous expression, all laughter fell from his face.

Dougal’s entire demeanor changed. His shoulders squared, every muscle in his body tensing as he went on high alert. He jogged out of the sparring circle, the small crowd of onlookers moving out of his way as he approached.

“What is it, Mag?” Dougal asked the moment he was within earshot.

But Magnus just shook his head.

“I have a job for ye,” he said under his breath, “but I daenae want to discuss it here. Come with me.”

Dougal nodded, knowing better than to ask any questions as the pair fell into step. They walked with strong, purposeful strides away from the training courtyard toward a garden that Magnus knew was often secluded.

All the while, Dougal did not say a word.

Just as Magnus suspected, there was not a soul in the garden he’d led them to. As soon as he was certain they would not be overheard, he whirled to face his cousin.

“It’s Bethany,” Magnus explained.

At the mention of Magnus’ younger sister, Dougal’s brow creased with worry. Dougal adored her nearly as much as Magnus did, and he hated knowing what pain he was about to put his cousin through.

“What is it?” Dougal stammered. “Is she all right? What is goin’ on? I ken she was ill, but everyone said she would be gettin’ better soon.”

Magnus shook his head.

The lie was one he’d told nearly two weeks ago in the early days of Bethany’s sickness. He’d not wanted anyone to worry, had thought that his men, and especially Dougal, had had more important things to worry about.

Now, however, it would seem that Magnus did not have a choice.

“She has become quite ill,” Magnus explained, “and as ye ken, our clan doesnae have a healer.”

“Well, have ye asked other clans?” Dougal asked frantically. “Surely, they’ll help. Or any of the healers in the villages? Mayhaps one of them will come.”

A muscle in Magnus’ jaw ticked, and he clenched his fist, angry about the news that he had to relay.

“I’ve asked,” he explained, working to keep the shame that fueled his rage from leaking into his voice.

“I’ve written to every healer that I ken.

Every clan that we have even a hope of partnerin’ with.

Either they daenae have a healer of their own, or they daenae want to help.

I also reached out to some in the villages. ”

He paused, wondering how he was going to say what he needed to next.

Dougal, apparently, did not need him to speak the words.

“They all refused,” he provided, apparently able to read the information on Magnus’ face.

Magnus gave one quick, terse nod to confirm it. “The last of the refusal letters arrived today. There isnae one left that I can think of.”

“And what does Janet say?”

At the mention of the older woman, Magnus’ frustration flared anew. He did not want to let Janet down. He did not want to let Bethany down.

“She says Bethany will be lucky to last another fortnight.”

All the color drained from Dougal’s face, causing the large scar that ran along his right jaw to stand out in stark contrast.

“Surely, there has to be someone else,” he stammered.

Magnus’ cousin was shaking his head as if the act of doing so would make everything that he’d just found out no longer be true.

“I’m hopin’ that there is,” Magnus interjected. “And that means I have a job for ye.”

Dougal’s eyes lit with hope.

“I’ll do it,” he said in a voice like the grave. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

Magnus nodded. That had been exactly what he’d been hoping his cousin would say.