Page 33 of Kilted Seduction
He pulled the boy’s hands into place, tugged the small, shaking body against his own, and began to fight his way back to shore. It was difficult, immeasurably so, burdened as he was with the weight of the bairn, but he finally managed.
Thora was waiting on the shore, lantern and cloaks in hand, when he managed to finally stagger free of the river’s chill embrace. On his back, the child was limp, and in the lantern light, Aedan saw his lips were blue-tinged, his face pale.
“Here, give him tae me.” Thora wrapped his cloak about him and took the bairn. She wrapped the child in her own garment, holding him close, then folded a blanket around the boy and knelt beside the lantern. “He’s chilled, and shocked by the cold… I think there’s water in his chest too.”
Swiftly, easily, she tipped the child and began to alternate rubbing his back and pressing on his stomach. After a second, the bairn gasped, coughed, and choked out a stream of water, before beginning to cry. Thora rubbed his back reassuringly, gently. “There, lad, ye’re safe… ye’re safe…”
Aedan watched her as she began to chafe the boy’s hands, face and chest, working to get the blood flowing in his limbs, and to ease the hitching of his breath. Though a part of him was keeping watch, and his hands were busy rubbing feeling back into his toes and replacing his boots, the rest of his thoughts were occupied with other things.
He hadn’t realized Thora had a blanket with her, but it was clear she’d come at least somewhat prepared.
She came prepared… she kent something would happen. She was looking for the boy afore he fell. She was worried afore she could have kenned.
How did she ken? She couldnae have seen the lad leave… we dinnae even ken where he came from. If we’d come when he first cried out - if anyone had - we’d have been too late. He’d have drowned, or frozen tae death.
But Thora had known and had come prepared to save the child’s life. If he hadn’t been there, she’d have gone into the river herself. She’d clearly anticipated her own clothing being too wet and chilled to be of any use.
Her visions. All along, he’d sneered at them, and thought them products of too much family indulgence, and too much exposure to superstitions and nonsense. He’d gone along with her plan because she had forced him to, but he’d never seen the point.
Some part of him, he realized, had been waiting for the moment he could look at her with triumphant eyes and say ‘I told ye so…just a lot o’ foolishness and empty words’. Some part of him had been waiting for the moment when he could confidently expose her lies, or her folly, and turn away, satisfied that he’d proven his point.
And yet, there was no other explanation, no way she could have known the lad’s life was in danger, unless she’d somehow foreseen it. Unless what he’d thought was a simple nightmare had somehow been a warning of what was to come, of the life that might have been lost without their intervention.
Aedan had always prided himself on believing only in things he could see, touch, and verify with his own senses. Likewise, he’d always prided himself on being able to discern and recognize a truth when it was presented to him, even if it went against something he’d been sure of before.
Thora’s visions were such a truth, and the proof was in her arms, in the face of the little boy with his drooping eyes and uneven breaths, who even now clung to her and whimpered in cold and fading fear.
Thora looked up at him a moment later. “He’s nae in immediate danger now, if I’ve remembered me sister’s teachings aright, but still he needs the healer, and more warmth than we can give him here.”
Aedan nodded. “I’ll carry him. Ye tak’ the lamp and lead the way. We’ll go round tae the main gate and tell the guards what’s happened, so they can alert the lad’s kinfolk.”
Thora nodded and handed the boy up into his arms before rising. She staggered a little, her legs likely numb from kneeling on the ground, then lifted the lantern and began to lead the way back to the main path.
They’d scarcely come in sight of the gate before one of the men cried out and dashed forward. “Keevan!”
The man was followed by two of his fellow guards, both wary as he stumbled to a stop. “Keevan… what… Keevan…”
“He needs warmth and a tisane or two from the healer, but ‘twill be all right.” Thora’s voice was low and soothing. “He was out by the river, and fell in, but me husband and I happened tae hear him fall. We managed tae rescue him.”
“Me wife managed to rescue him. She saw him afore I did.” Aedan spoke up. It was the truth, in more than one sense, and he refused to accept all the credit for the rescue. He couldn’t, not when he knew that without Thora’s gift, neither of them would have been there to save the lad.
The lad’s father, nodded. “I kent he and some o’ the other boys were darin’ each other tae foolishness, but I didnae see him go…” The man’s face was pale in the light of lantern and torches. After a moment, he looked up, eyes shining with gratitude and relief. “Thank ye, me laird, m’lady…thank ye fer savin’ me son.”
“Nae need fer thanks.” Aedan gestured to the wall. “Return tae yer post, and the lady and I will see the lad tae the healers. She’ll send someone fer yer wife, if she’s about.”
“She’ll be in the castle… she works as a kitchen maid…” The man was muttering, near incoherent as two of his fellows guided him back toward the gate.
Another of the guards approached. “I’ll wake the healer and a lad tae carry word tae the wife.” He hesitated. “Thank ye, me laird, m’lady. Keevan’s all they have in the world.”
Aedan nodded. The strain of his own time in the river was wearing on him, and he wanted nothing more than to return to his blankets and sleep. For a fortnight, if possible.
Within half a candle-mark, the bairn was resting comfortably in the healer’s cottage. He and Thora had both been dosed with a strengthening tisane, and a potion the healer swore would ward off illness, along with a small measure of distilled spirits to chase the cold away.
Then it was back to their rooms, to their fire, to change out of their chilled, wet clothing. Thora was too weary for modesty, and Aedan was too cold and exhausted to appreciate it. Even so, his mind was oddly restless as he sought his blankets.
Thora’s visions were real, or at least they had been this time. Did that mean the ‘danger’ she foresaw for his clan was real as well?
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