Page 66 of Deception and Desire
“True enough.” He turned to the footman. “Ye keep an eye out, or I’ll haveyerhead, ye ken?”
Alfred gave an impassive nod. “Yes, sir.”
“I’d appreciate it if you see how Colin fares and send me word.” She turned to the footman. “Could you have the maid bring up warm water, soap, and towels?”
Both men nodded and left the room. Fenella sat on the mattress and stroked the side of his cheek with the back of her hand. His face was unshaven, and creases had appeared around his eyes overnight. She could not imagine losing Evie, let alone in such a violent way. Her eyes burned, and she blinked several times. Tears would not help him now. He needed tending.
When a thin redhead appeared at the door, curtsying with a bowl of water and towels thrown over her shoulder, Fenella managed a wan smile. “Thank you… what is your name?”
“Leila,” she said with another bob.
“Leila, could you bring me some tea? And open the windows. Fresh air will do all of us some good.” She turned back to Lachlan, who was stirring. Setting the basin on the bedside table, she dipped the corner of the towel in the warm water and rubbed the wet end with soap. He’d hit his head, and there was a small gash behind one ear. She dabbed at the minor wound, pulling away his thick auburn hair, now dark with dried blood. When the light scab had been removed and bright red stained the towel, she took a smaller cloth and held it to the spot until it stopped bleeding.
Leila returned with a tea tray, left it by the hearth, and shut the door as she left. Fenella drank a cup and returned to her patient. With slow, gentle movements, she washed his face, careful not to get the suds too close to his eyes. As she rinsed the reddened skin, his lids opened. Glassy blue stared at her as she began the same ministrations to his neck, but he remained silent. Then the cobalt orbs glistened, and she knew he was remembering.
He held out his arms, still without a word, and she lay next to him, her head on his chest. His tears dampened her hair and coursed down his neck, wetting her own cheek. Soon her own joined his as they held each other in silence, her heart breaking for him.
It was late afternoon when he stirred again. Fenella sat by the window, watching a squirrel scamper along a branch.
“How long have I been here?” he croaked. “My mouth feels like I sheared sheep with it.”
She smiled. “Four or five hours. How is your head?”
He moved his neck back and forth, then winced. His fingers gingerly touched the wound behind his ear. “I think I remember hitting my head as I sank against the tree. I’m sorry ye had to see me like that.” His hoarse voice cracked. “Could I get a drink?”
She nodded. “I have some lukewarm tea. No liquor for you, I’m afraid.”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “I think I’m still half-bosky.” He sat up and accepted the cup while she arranged pillows behind his back.
“You certainly smell like it. Here’s something for your stomach.” She perched next to him and handed him a piece of peppermint. “You really need to be more careful of your poor head. One of these days your skull will crack, and no one will be able to fix it.”
“Aye, my ma always said I was the clumsiest of her bairns.” He chewed the sweet while he sipped the tepid liquid. “I hate to ask this, but could ye step out for a moment? I need to…”
Her face flushed as she realized he needed to use the chamber pot. “Of course, I’ll be in the hall.” She placed the china on the tray and left the room.
A few minutes later, Lachlan called to her. She went back and found him in a clean nightshirt. “Now I’m presentable for a lady. Come sit with me before I prepare to leave.”
“Not today. Colin is exhausted and under my grandmother’s care. She’s made arrangements, and you will both set off tomorrow morning after a good night’s sleep. Alfred will have… the trunks packed.” She couldn’t bring herself to mention Ian’s name until Lachlan did.
He sat against the feather pillows with his arms crossed, a thoughtful look on his face. “I suppose one day doesna matter. We can take turns driving on the way back.” His jaw clenched. “We’ll need to inform the workers.”
“I’ve sent word to Sorcha and will meet her in the morning.”
“Would ye do me a favor?” His voice sounded almost shy, embarrassed.
“Of course. What do you need?”
“Would ye read to me from the Bible? I think I left it on the mantel.”
Her heart clenched. It was not what she had expected. A side of this complex man she had not known. With a simple nod, she moved to the hearth and found a small book, its leather binding cracked and worn. On the aged cover were fractured gold letters:The Bible.She recognized it as the King James version as she flipped through the pages.
She sat down on the bed next to him, turned to the place marked with an ivory satin ribbon, and began to read. His head lay against the bolsters, eyes closed, his breathing slow and rhythmic. Blinking back tears, she cleared her throat to make sure her voice was steady. Fenella found the simple act of reading consoled her as well, and an hour passed with only the sound of her recitation.
Then he leaned forward and flipped the pages, his finger running along the passages and stopping. “This one.”
Curious, Fenella skimmed the printed words, her throat growing thick. With a deep breath, she read from Thessalonians:
“Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.”
