Page 4 of The Guardian’s Bride (Highland Secrets #3)

D elirium, she realized, gave him a terrible strength.

“Sir,” she said, gasping as she resisted his grip. “I only used a charm stone—”

“Charming, aye, she is. But tell me what were you doing with it—uh…” He winced, his grip lessening, tightening again. “If I die, what then for the stone?”

Did he think a charm stone could harm him? “You will not die. I will not let you.”

“Only I know what it is. Only I know. I must guard the stone.”

“What?” Did he mean the Rhymer’s charm stone? “The stone is safe with me.”

“I keep the stone,” he rasped. “Precious. I alone know what it is—but now I must tell you before I die.” He pulled her closer, his beard a soft brush against her cheek.

She pushed herself away with a hand on his chest. “Try to sleep, sir. All will be well.”

“Not well. Must tell you. I have to trust you.” He gasped for breath.

“I do not understand. I am only a healer, only here to help you.”

“Stones! There is magic in that stone.” Releasing her hand, he cupped the back of her head to draw her nearer. In the candlelight, his green eyes were flecked with gold and glittering with fever.

“Stop. I use the stone for healing,” she said, confused. “No magic. Medicine.”

“Something is magic. Listen to me. Castle—I must tell you.”

“Can I deliver a message to someone at a castle? Is that what you want? You are not making sense, sir.”

“Swear to me, lass. If I die, you will go there. Secret. Tell no one.”

His insistence and his delirious strength alarmed her. “Sir, you will recover. You can go to the castle yourself.”

“Promise me. Find the stone, bring it to the king—” His eyes were unnaturally bright. “Go to the castle, find the dove and the stone—”

“What? But I have the stone. I am confused.”

“By the beach, a cave—the stones. Promise me you will go there.”

“I promise, but tell me more—”

“My lady!” Behind her, footsteps crossed the floor. Gideon was just there, reaching out to grab the man’s wrist. “What is this? Sir, let her go!”

Gideon grabbed the man’s wrist to free her. Sitting back, Rowena straightened her kerchief. Sir Aedan subsided, turned his head to the wall. When Rowena touched his forehead, he grabbed for her hand again, but Gideon blocked him.

“Just the fever. Leave him be,” she said. “He means no harm.”

“We should give him the infusion of poppies,” Gideon said. “Go rest, Rowena. Here, take your cloak. I will sit with him.”

“Just a light dose of the Great Rest, then. I worry about giving him too much.”

She would not reveal what the man had said to her. She had simply promised to help, thinking it would calm him. She would help if she understood what he was talking about. He had spoken nonsense about a castle, a stone, a dove.

Dreams, she thought, from delirium.

In the morning, she found MacDuff asleep. Careful not to disturb his rest, she was pleased to see that his stitched wounds looked less fierce and bruises were fading. His brow was warm but not hot; he no longer shivered with fever. Relieved, she passed her fingers over the curls and waves of his brown-gilt hair. As she drew the blanket up, he stirred, eyelids fluttering.

“Stay,” he murmured, his fingers rippling on the blanket.

“I am just here.” Feeling a pull of yearning again, she folded her hands and sat beside the bed. He slept, and she felt grateful, knowing it was all she could ask for now.

The outer door opened and Gideon peeked in, beckoning. She went to him. “A visitor is at the gate,” he said. “Your brother.”

“Henry! I thought he was in Carlisle with the king.” Fastening her cloak against the winter chill, she hastened outside as Gideon stayed in the ward. She felt a frisson of alarm as she crossed the yard, hoping all was well at home.

Snow flurried in the air as she hurried toward the knight who had dismounted at the gate. He stood with Gilchrist while one of the young lay brothers led his horse to the stable. “Henry!” she called.

“Rowena!” He gave her an easy smile. Pushing back his chainmail hood, revealing thick blond hair spilling from a quilted cap, he bent to kiss her cheek.

“What brings you here? Is there trouble at Kincraig? I was just there last week.”

“All is well. I was at Carlisle with Edward’s men, and rode up to Kincraig to look for you. Sir Finley said you had come here. He is proving to be a fine seneschal, by the way. Our sisters are well too, Margaret busy in the household, Tamsin thriving at Dalrinnie—her child will not arrive for months and she is feeling better. Young Lilias Bruce is still there, as you know, and says you must hurry back to teach her more about herbs and such. And I think Andrew Murray would foster with us forever if he could. Finlay is teaching him sword skills.” He chuckled.

“I can go back soon. Why would you come looking for me?”

“I was in the south meeting with the English to help negotiate prisoners of war after the battle on Loch Ryan. Then King Edward sent word that I must fetch you.”

“What could Edward want with me?”

“Walk with me.” Henry led her to the shelter of a roofed arcade. Shivering, she drew her cloak around her against more than the February air. A message from King Edward was usually unwelcome news. He had ordered her sister Tamsin to marry one of his knights or enter a convent, and demanded she give him a sheaf of writings that Thomas the Rhymer had gifted her.

Rowena shuddered. Somehow Edward had learned that Thomas had bequeathed special gifts to Tamsin, as well as the other Keith siblings, which could mean danger for all of them. What if he wanted the Rhymer’s charm stone, which she had promised to protect?

“Edward wants you to come to Lanercost Priory, where he is staying,” Henry said. “He is ill again with a malady that weakens him now and then. But he is furious with his doctors and the monks in attendance, shouting insults and dismissing them for fools. Recently he heard of your skill, so he wants you to treat him.”

“Who would tell him about me? Surely not you, but who?”

“I never would. Apparently, Sir Malise Comyn told the king you saved his life when he was injured. He recommended Edward consult you if he is unhappy with his doctors.”

“Sir Malise is back in Edward’s court? He should still be recovering.”

“Hardly a limp now. Others said he would never walk again, but you did well by him, and he told Edward so.”

“Likely he did not mention how he was injured,” she said wryly.

“Many know by now that a nun flattened him.” Henry chuckled. “But he seems grateful and told Edward you are very skilled. So you are summoned.”

“Oh dear. What more did Malise tell Edward? Henry—I think Malise saw the Rhymer’s charm stone. He was in a bad way and I dipped it in water to give him a drink. I did not use it otherwise, but he must have seen it. I feared he might never walk again.”

“You have a soft heart. I am not sure I would have helped him after what he did to our family and the Setons as well.”

“I just hope he did not see the stone and tell Edward about it.” Her siblings knew about the charm stone, as she knew what Thomas had given each of them, but for Henry, who had said little of his. “Though he might not know it came from Thomas.”

“Malise will do whatever gains him an advantage. He was part of the scheme to take the pages Tamsin owns, though none of it went to plan. If Malise suspects Thomas gave you something, such as a healing stone, aye, he could have told Edward.”

“But how would he know for sure?”

“Thomas made his will in the Selkirk courts. As a deputy sheriff, I have seen the record myself. Others might see it too, or hear of it.”

“You should steal the document out of there, Henry.” She frowned.

“Perhaps. But it remains that you must go to the king. A refusal could invite grave consequences. Tamsin faced a good deal of trouble, but thank the saints Sir Liam happened upon her and could help.”

“A blessing in disguise, as they later married.” Rowena smiled. “But I do not want to go, Henry. I have work here. One man here has been near death.”

“Gilchrist mentioned you are treating a man wounded at Loch Ryan. He was lucky to escape capture and end up here.”

“Aye. He is called Sir Aedan MacDuff. Have you heard the name?”

Henry stopped, a hand on her arm. “Aedan MacDuff of Fife?”

“Gilchrist and Gideon said he could be from Fife and might be kin to the earl.”

“He is. I know him. We met at Edward’s court as knights together, but I knew of him before that. Do you remember hearing his name at home?”

“I thought the name was familiar, but I could not place it.”

“You were just five then, and I was eleven. He was perhaps fifteen, but we did not meet him.” He exhaled. “Father tried to arrange a marriage between you and this MacDuff, who is related to the earls of Fife. Father was impressed with the lad. But the agreement was canceled when his kin decided against the marriage.”

A faded childhood memory surfaced; her first betrothal refused and forgotten. “I recall feeling sad about it, but that is all I remember.”

“Aedan and his older brother—a young earl then—were wards of the bishop of Saint Andrews and Fife after their father, the earl, was killed. Aedan’s brother later died in similar fashion, leaving his son Earl of Fife. The lad is Edward’s hostage in England.”

“How awful!”

“But not surprising. Edward seems determined to be rid of the MacDuffs.”

She shook her head, saddened again—was it the ghost of her childhood self? Then she realized that if the marriage had proceeded, her husband would be the warrior now lying in the infirmary. Instead, she’d married another years later who died in battle just weeks after the wedding. Widowed over four years, she was content with the freedom to travel about and do the work she loved.

“How odd to think MacDuff and I—well, it was never meant to be. I have done all I could to help him, and pray he recovers.” She glanced toward the infirmary building. “I used the charm stone for him, Henry. He was delirious and could have died. But he seems improved today.”

“Then he needed the help you gave him. Just keep it to yourself, aye?”

“I will.” She sighed. “I do not want to go to Edward, but if he is ill, I feel I must.”

“It is your way. And trust me, we must do what this king wants, or there will be hell to pay. He is more impatient and vindictive than ever and could stir havoc at the smallest slight. If he thinks you have something he wants, it could go poorly for you. Be careful. Do not tell him about the stone.”

“I promised Grandda that I would guard it, and so I will.”

“Aye then. Gilchrist and I will escort you south today. I have no doubt this MacDuff will recover, thanks to you.”

She touched the embroidered pouch, felt the round crystal there. Walking back through the yard with Henry, she remembered something Grandda had said.

O ne day, this wee stone could save Scotland. Thou art its guardian now. Keep it secret. Keep it safe. Use it wisely.

Hearing a soft step, sensing the light changing, the air sweeter and softer, Aedan opened his eyes. She stood beside him. He thought her a nun, with her gentle, skilled touch, her soft kind gray eyes, her kerchief and simple gray gown. Though his lips felt stretched and dry, and his stitched and poulticed cheek pained him, he smiled.

“Back again? I must be dying. Such attention.” It took all his strength to stay awake, move a few fingers, smile.

“You seem improved today. I am glad,” she whispered, touching his shoulder.

“Stay.” Had he said that already? His mind was in a fog.

“I must go. My brother is here. I am called to the king.”

“King. I must go to the king too.” Dimly aware that he must find Bruce, lend his support, he shifted to sit but could not.

“Easy, sir. I must go, but you will recover. The monks will help you. Rest now.”

“Stay,” he said, fingers lifting. “Are you a nun?”

“I am not.” She took his hand. “I cannot stay. Promise me you will heal and go home.”

“Home. Promise. See you again?”

“Who can say? Guard yourself, aye?”

“Guard,” he repeated. “Stone.”

“What?” She sounded almost frightened. Had he said something wrong? He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her soft, slim knuckles. It took his strength.

“Farewell, you,” she said dearly, sweetly.

“Sweetling. Kind lady. I owe you.”

She laughed softly and turned away, footsteps light to the door.

He closed his eyes, feeling an odd tug in his chest as she left. He wanted to see her again. Had to—the stone—he had seen its twin elsewhere, and it puzzled him greatly.

He slept.