~ * ~
When Malcolm and Niall stopped at the room on the second floor, Fingal passed them, continuing up the stairs to a chamber on the third floor. Initially thrilled to see Fingal, the maid who readied his room pouted when she saw Tomas. Fingal chuckled, the reason for her chagrin obvious to him, “Another time, lass.” He stayed with Tomas until the lad had eaten and fallen asleep on a pallet. Knowing the exhausted boy wouldn’t awaken until morning, Fingal left the chamber and descended the stairs. As he passed Lady Katherine’s chamber, he heard her distressed cries. Upon reaching the great hall, it infuriated Fingal when he saw Niall sitting at the long refectory table with Malcolm and Duncan. “What are ye doing down here?” Fingal demanded.
Niall glared at Fingal and asked in a low, menacing voice, “Ye dare address your laird with that tone?”
“I beg your pardon, Laird,” Fingal said mockingly, “I thought I was addressing my brother.”
“Do ye need to be reminded they are one and the same?” said Niall, rising to his feet.
“Do ye need to be reminded that less than an hour ago, your wife begged ye not to leave her? Now she is crying out for ye, and ye are not there,” Fingal responded, not backing down.
Niall appeared stunned for a moment before turning toward the tower stairs, but Malcolm clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Niall, sit down,” he commanded. “This is why Agnes wanted ye out of the room. We must allow her to do what is necessary and ye can’t interfere. Fingal, I know ye mean well, son, but it will not help Katherine to have Niall there. She is delirious anyway and Niall will only be in the way. Let the healer finish.” Both young men looked murderous until Malcolm roared. “Sit down. Both of ye!”
~ * ~
Agnes told Niall she had done everything she could to stop the source of the fever but it still raged. Now they could only wait. She finally allowed him to return to his wife’s side, although she stayed to keep watch.
Niall helplessly watched Katherine’s restless sleep. She moaned, occasionally crying out incoherently. He felt consumed by guilt. When faced with the forced marriage, he had actually welcomed the possibility that she might be weak and slow witted. He had thought of her as a little broken doll he could put away on a shelf and ignore. He had planned to settle her in Duncurra, assign a clanswoman to tend her, and go on with his life. He needed her money.
He couldn’t set this bride aside, and he didn’t want to. That was reasonable, he told himself. She was clearly bright, she evidently managed Cotharach. She had the skills to run a household, the most basic requirement of a wife. If he had to have one, she would do as well as any other.
He also had to admit he felt a strong attraction for her. What man wouldn’t? He didn’t think he had ever seen a more beautiful woman and he stirred even now, remembering her passionate response to his kisses. He relished the thought of bedding her.
How did he let this happen? After Ceana, he had sworn he would never again allow a woman to have the power to hurt him. Words of her devotion to him slid easily off her tongue, even as she loved and freely gave herself to another man. Ceana had wanted to be “Lady MacIan” someday, so she had charmed and manipulated Niall into asking for her hand. He was a fool. After eight years, the bitterness of his pain and humiliation still remained.
He must not confuse desire with love. He did not love Katherine and, while he doubted he could ever love any woman, he would still remain vigilant and guard his heart. Perhaps simply having no delusions of love would be enough to ensure he wouldn’t lose his heart again. Yet even now he felt a crushing pain. The thought of losing her terrified him. Surely his admiration of her skills and beauty did not justify what he felt now.
This is not love, he tried to assure himself once again. It is...appreciation. That must explain his despair. On top of being skilled and attractive, she provided the means by which he could save his clan. Only a heartless cur would feel nothing for her. Surely this was why his heart ached at the thought of losing her.
Five
Early in the morning, just before dawn, Katherine’s fever broke and she sweated profusely. Agnes dried her gently and changed the linens. Katherine finally slipped into a still, natural sleep. Telling Niall the worst was over, Agnes left, with instructions to send for her if anything changed. Drained, Niall lay down on the bed beside Katherine, and, giving in to his exhaustion, fell asleep.
Niall slept for several hours, awaking late in the morning. Lying on his side, on top of the bed linens, he put his arm around Katherine. She had turned off her stomach during the night and had curled up against him with her back to his chest. The dark bluish shadows under her eyes gave witness to the ordeal of the last few days, but her pale skin felt cool and no longer looked flushed with fever. The linen towel, with which the healer had covered her back the evening before, slid off when Katherine turned to her side, leaving the lacerations on her back in view. Niall breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the open lash marks looked clean and less angry.