Page 75 of Fallen
The captain’s chin snapped up, and Coira, who’d stopped just behind Craeg, drew in a sharp breath when she spied the anguish in Broderick’s grey-blue eyes. “Aye,” he rasped. “Although ye won’t want to see her … Lady Drew is gravely ill.”
Coira followed Captain Broderick up the stairwell to the uppermost level of the broch. The emptiness they’d seen in the narrow streets and alleyways of ‘The Warren’ had continued within the broch itself. Apart from the odd scurrying servant or skulking guard, the fortress was deserted.
“Surely, not all the servants fell ill?” she asked, hurrying to keep pace with the warrior’s long strides as he led her along a hallway. There were no windows in the corridor; instead, a row of flickering cressets illuminated the cool space.
“A few did,” the warrior replied, his tone as gruff as it had been at the entrance to the bailey. “The rest fled like rats ahead of a flood.”
Coira took this news in, her mouth thinning. His words didn’t surprise her, although it was concerning. How many of those who’d fled had been ill already, and had merely taken the sickness with them and passed it on to others?
Broderick led her halfway down the hallway, and into a dimly-lit bed-chamber.
The first thing Coira did—before even going to the figure lying on the bed—was walk to the window and unlatch the shutters. She then pushed them wide, breathing in the pine-scented evening air with relief.
Turning back to Broderick, she saw that he was glowering at her. “Don’t look so worried,” she chided him. “I told ye that I’m a healer.”
“The last one told us to close the shutters,” he replied, his voice edged with suspicion.
“And where’s he?”
Deep grooves bracketed Broderick’s mouth then. “He fled with the others.”
Coira sighed. “Well then … it’s just as well I’m here.” She gestured to the open window. “Fresh air clears out the ill humors. Plus, it’ll help me to see.” Placing the basket she’d brought on a desk, she pulled out her scarf and gloves and put them on.
When she shifted her attention back to the captain, he was staring at her as if she’d just sprouted horns.
“It’s for my own protection,” she told him, moving toward the bed. “I’m not much good to the sick if the plague gets me, am I?”
Approaching the bed, her gaze fixed upon the woman reclining there. One glance, told her that she was possibly too late.
The woman, around five years her elder, lay there, dressed in a sweat-soaked léine. Her dark hair fanned across the pillow, although her delicate features were gaunt with sickness and pain. The eyes that watched her were eerily familiar—iron-grey—marking her as Duncan MacKinnon’s kin. Her clammy-looking skin was ashen and marked with dark spots, huge swellings visible under the arms.
Despite her scarf, Coira took in a shallow, measured breath.The Lord have mercy on us all.
“Can ye help her?”
The desperate edge to Captain Broderick’s voice drew Coira’s attention. Her gaze swiveled to him. She wondered why the man was so obviously upset, before realization dawned.
He’s in love with her.
Coira’s throat tightened, and she shifted her attention back to Lady Drew. Even if the woman had been well, anyone could see that such a love-match would be impossible. She was a lady and he a guard. Society would not allow it.
And would society allow a union between ye and Craeg?A voice needled her.
Underneath her scarf, Coira’s mouth curved. A woman who’d lived as both a whore and nun, and an outlaw with a price on his head—they were a perfect match indeed.
“She is in the latter stages of the illness,” Coira said softly. “But I will do all I can … even if the shock of the treatment may be too much for her.” It was true, Lady Drew’s weakened state made this procedure a risky one. Coira then reached for the knife she carried at her waist. “Can ye get me a bowl?”
31
Make Ye Mine
IT WAS AFTER dark when Coira joined Craeg in the clan-chief’s solar.
He stood by the window, a lonely figure looking out at where a dark line of trees met an indigo sky. Even from the doorway, she could see the tension in his broad shoulders. He wasn't comfortable here.
She didn’t blame him. Neither was she. However, she’d had plenty to occupy her since her arrival at Dunan. It had taken her a while to tend to Lady Drew, and to adequately clean the lanced boils. But after seeing to her patient, Coira hadn’t gone to Craeg directly. First, she had gone down to the kitchens and found a bucket of water and lye soap to bathe with.
Tending the sick left a taint behind it. She wanted to scrub it off, before she spent time with her love.
