Chapter 12

He could not explain it if he tried, how, of all the women he had met, this one, an Englishwoman with ties to the enemy, was the first one that he truly cared for. Of course, there were women that had made him look a second time, he'd even enjoyed their company to a varying degree. But when he looked at Jane, he felt the overwhelming urge to protect her. Which was just what he was doing then. She was curled up in a ball, her black hair fanned about her, while her form rose and fell slightly with each breath she took. How could someone be so innocent and yet so tempting? So desire-awakening?

It worried him somewhat.

If he had been told that he would care about a lass he had met only two days prior, he might have burst into laughter. And yet here he was. He could not afford to let his desire for her cloud his judgment, in any way. She was the only one standing between him and Ramsay's release. Besides, Jane was bound by duty, as well. It was no use encouraging a fire that could not be allowed to burn.

But it was a lovely fire.

It would be first light in a few hours. He had promised her that he would stay, but he needed space to organize his thoughts. He got off the bed. She sighed in her sleep, but then went back to her even breathing. He touched her slightly on the cheek and went out of the door.

He went out to stare at the early-morning sky. It was midnight blue. He could spot some stars dotting the horizon. He looked out at his land, the land he would give his life to protect, for his people.

"Good morning, me laird," he heard, and turned. It was Catrina. Like him, she did not sleep much. It was she who, most times, roused the servants. In addition to being his best friend's sister and his most trusted warrior's wife, she had become quite indispensable the running of the castle. She was holding a dim lamp and was clad in a robe on top of her very modest nightwear. Alistair had it in mind to ask why she had given Jane a rather arousing one, then.

"Catrina," Alistair returned.

She walked to him and paused. "Dae you really mean tae keep our visitor under lock and key?"

"Nay," Alistair said, perhaps more forcefully than he had meant to. "Nay," he said again, his tone more even, "she may walk around the castle - and around the castle only."

Catrina nodded. "Yes, me laird. That is much better, I think."

Alistair cocked his head and Catrina explained, "I mean, it cannae be very comfortable, being constrained tae a room. Men have run mad fer way less." Alistair nodded. Catrina looked at him with meaning. "Me laird? Is there… perhaps more tae this than meets the eye?"

"What dae ye speak of, Catrina?"

"Jane," Catrina said.

"Jane?" Alistair said. "What could there be more than what meets the eye where Jane is concerned?" He did not give her time to reply, afraid that she would ask something about their, for lack of a better word, relationship. "I need to rouse the lads. We are going fer a hunt. I shall be back soon." He then turned and walked down the passageway.

* * *

"Is there a reason fer which we are going hunting in the dark of night?"

Keith's horse moved at a strolling pace, in step with Alistair's. A cool breeze blew. Somewhere beyond them, an owl hooted.

"It is almost first light, Keith," Alistair returned.

"Aye," Keith said. "But it is nae first light."

"If it were Douglas who protested thus, I would understand. But I have not pulled you from a loving woman's embrace."

"I doubt that Douglas is ever pulled from a loving woman's embrace. Catrina is up before the roosters themselves."

"Aye, that is true," Alistair said, remembering this morning's conversation with Catrina.

"And ye have," Keith said.

"I have what?" Alistair said, cocking his head.

"You have pulled me from a loving woman's embrace. Ye pulled me from the loving embrace of sleep."

Alistair shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. "A little sleep, a little slumber, as the holy book tells us."

"The holy book also says that God gives His beloved sleep, Alistair," Keith returned. Alistair smiled and said nothing. Keith chuckled. "I have made the great Alistair Fletcher speechless," he said. "How is that for an achievement?" He stared into the horizon. "Why are we going as slowly as mules? At this rate, we won't reach the forest until sundown."

"Patience, Keith," Alistair said.

He spurred his horse to a brisk run. Keith followed after, laughing. They went down the hill and into the forest. But when they got to the area that deer were known to be in abundance, Alistair did not bring his horse to a halt. He trudged on, until they were once more on the path that they had taken yesterday.

"Why are we going in this direction, Alistair?" Keith asked.

Now they were only a short distance from the cave where Alistair and Jane had spent the night. "Because we must scout the area fer any other soldiers. We might be lucky enough tae intercept a carriage that will cause another uproar in the camp of the British."

They were at the cave now, and Alistair was hit with memories of what had happened within it. Jane's bottom pressed against him. Jane clinging to him. Of course, those memories paled in comparison with what had happened last night.

"I… touched the lass, Keith," Alistair said suddenly, "nae her maidenhood. But I touched her."

"Dae go on, Alistair."

Alistair turned to his best friend sharply. "That is the end of it."

"Is it?" Keith said, a twinkle in his eye. "We all saw how you looked at her from when we captured her, tae when we rescued you from this very cage, tae when we got to the castle. At dinner, she was all you could look at."

"That cannae be the truth."

"Except that it is," Keith said with a chuckle. "I might have thought that ye had bedded her in this cave if she hadn't emerged from it looking like a beleaguered harridan."

Alistair gave him a sharp warning look.

"Me apologies, but it is the truth," Keith continued. He shook his head. "I cannae fault ye, fer the lass is good tae look upon. Her eyes are fascinating, and her form-"

"Say nothing about her form."

"I only wish tae say that it is nae a mortal sin that ye are attracted tae her. Only remember who this woman is. The fiancée of an enemy of yer clan."

They moved in silence for a while. They had gone past the witch's cottage and were now almost at the very spot where they had ambushed Jane's carriage. "Me clan will always come first," Alistair said suddenly.

"I ken," Keith said. "Alistair, we have been friends since childhood. Ye are the most honorable man I ken. All yer men would die fer ye if it came tae it, they have that much trust in ye. Me only advice is that you dae nae lose it fer a pair of green eyes."

Alistair stared at Keith. "If I have noticed, others have noticed as well. These are sensitive times. We cannae afford tae have loyalties questioned." He paused. "Especially the laird's loyalty."

"Ye are right," Alistair said. They had come to the exact spot where they had captured Jane. There were still carriage wheel marks in the earth.

"Dae ye mean tae create a grove here where ye can worship after she is gone? Bah!" Keith's tone was teasing, and Alistair chuckled.

"One day ye will fall madly in love with a lass, and I shall laugh you tae scorn."

"Madly in love, aye?"

Alistair turned bright red at the turn of phrase he had used unintentionally.

Keith however continued with good humor. "That will never happen," he declared. "I shall be unattached and unencumbered till the end of time."

"I will remind ye of this when ye are tied tae her skirts," Alistair said with a laugh.

But then his laughter died.

His piercing blue eyes scanned the environment, and he sniffed. Keith, noticing this, sat at attention. "Keith," Alistair said, "where are the bodies of the soldiers we killed?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than an arrow whizzed past him, missing him by a hair's breadth. He and Keith turned in its direction. Three English soldiers, initially hidden in the forest, were charging towards them. Alistair and Keith took fighting positions. With Alistair leading, they charged in the direction of the soldiers, their swords unsheathed.

On impact, Alistair's blade delivered a deadly stab to the chest of one of the soldiers. The soldier fell off his horse, and the horse whinnied in fear and trotted away. Keith wrestled the second soldier to the ground. They both tumbled in the dirt, and Keith ended up on top. Because his sword was lost in the fall, he dealt heavy blows to the soldier's head. The last soldier, to whose horse a bow and an arrow were attached, faced Alistair. Alistair could see, in the man's eyes, something that he had seen in several other soldiers he had fought. Hatred.

The soldier charged. Alistair engaged, his sword raised, braced for impact. In mere seconds, the soldier was groaning, his life's blood seeping into the earth. Alistair turned. The soldier with whom Keith was fighting now had the upper hand. He was on top, and he had Keith in a chokehold. Alistair ran to them. He yanked the soldier off, and Keith sputtered. The soldier squared with Alistair, and both circled each other like great cats.

Alistair leapt towards the soldier in practiced steps.

In a swift move, the soldier bent and planted a knife in Alistair's thigh.

Alistair howled. The soldier galloped away. Alistair followed suit, but he was losing blood. It poured out of his wound, staining his kilt. The soldier had disappeared into the forest, and Alistair knew that there could be even more soldiers lurking behind the trees. With a groan of frustration, he turned back. Keith had vanquished his soldier. He lay in the dirt, his head a bleeding pulp. Keith let out a cry of victory, but then his eyes lighted on Alistair's and he rushed to his friend's side.

* * *

Jane woke slowly. She first noticed that the bed was unfamiliar. And why was the light coming in a different direction from what she was used to…?

Reality dawned on her. Thoughts of last night flooded her mind. She blushed. No wonder Eleonor had fallen for a Scottish man! Did Englishmen have the ardor and passion that Alistair had shown last night? She doubted it. He had overtaken her senses and turned her into a creature she did not recognize, a creature of passion. She had always feared the concept of a wedding night, for the little she had heard about it was horrific indeed. But with these preliminaries that Alistair had shown her, she was certain that the actual act could not be so bad.

Another thought crossed her mind. Alistair had been the perfect gentleman. Oh, if he had made a move to take her, she was not sure she would have protested much, so great was her desire! And yet he had restrained himself, giving her pleasure and taking none. He'd treated her body like it was an exquisite thing to be worshipped, and then he had promised that-

Jane turned to Alistair's side of the bed.

He was not there.

Jane frowned.

He had promised that he would be here when she woke. She remembered that distinctly, as she had floated off to sleep with the assurance in her ears. Didn't Scots prided themselves on being honorable? Hadn't forthrightness been one of the things he'd promised.

She caught herself.

Perhaps something urgent had needed his attention this morning. Surely he could not have shirked it for her - he was a lord, with duties and responsibilities. A sad thought formed in her mind. Very soon, she would have to leave him. She would never see him, or the kind Catrina, or the bubbly Tasgall, again. They were on opposite sides of a divide. He might die in battle and she would never know. She would be holed up in Edward's castle, acting out a role that had been chosen for her, from sunup to sundown, for the rest of her life.

Utterly unhappy.

Another thought crossed her mind. The witch in the cottage in the forest. It was silly to pay a woman like that any mind, but she had known too much about Jane for it not to be worrisome. Jane thought about the mark that the witch had said her soulmate would have, too. She had not seen a mark on Alistair. Jane had not actively been looking, but surely, she would have noticed.

And then Jane stopped herself. It was plain madness to be looking for a soulmate in a man she might never again see in a few days! She did not even believe in soulmates. Such things were part of Scottish lore, surely. It could not apply to an Englishwoman.

The knock at the door startled her. She jumped. There was another knock. Jane jumped off the bed, wrapped the cloak she had been given and went to the door. As a last-minute precaution, she asked who it was.

"'Tis Catrina," she heard.

Jane swiftly opened the door. She smiled at Catrina. "Good morning."

Alarm was written all over the older woman's face. "You must come quick, Jane," she said, and began to walk briskly down the hall. Jane's eyes widened and she quickly followed, pulling the robe about her as she rushed after Catrina. What could have happened? Was Edward here? Had he come to reclaim her? Had he hurt anyone? These thoughts swam in her head and filled her with dread.

The two women ran to the gates as fast as they could, just in time to see Keith and Alistair come through them. Keith was supporting Alistair, who looked badly beaten. His movements were slow and unsteady, a jarring contrast to his confident, dauntless gait. He was sweating profusely. His lips were bloodless.

In alarm, Jane ran to his side. "What has happened?" she queried Keith, for Alistair looked too weak to answer any question.

Keith said nothing.

"What has happened, sir?" Jane repeated, her voice louder and firmer.

"We were attacked by three English soldiers," Keith said. "One stabbed Alistair in the thigh."

"'Tis only a small wound," Alistair said through gritted teeth. Jane stepped back and looked at Alistair's thigh. There was a lot of blood. His kilt was stained with it. Jane gasped.

Just then, Alistair cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground. Jane shrieked. Catrina began to let out a stream of prayers.

"I am here, me laird," they all suddenly heard. A short middle-aged man had made his way to them. He had the whitest hair Jane had ever seen, and yet he was not that old. Two pouches were slung in a crisscross over his shoulders. Urgently, he motioned Jane and Keith away.

"Me laird, with your permission," the man said.

Alistair nodded. Even that singular act caused him much strain. The man, whom Jane assumed was a healer, raised Alistair's kilt. At the sight of the wound, she blanched. She had seen wounds before in her life, but seeing Alistair's, with whom she had been only hours ago, shocked her.

"A knife wound such as this should not bring the laird this much pain and suffering," the healer said. "It is surprising indeed." The man bent and examined the wound more closely. With the back of his hand, he felt Alistair's temperature. He then gently pried Alistair's eyelid open. He shook his head.

"This is no ordinary wound," he pronounced. "An ordinary wound would not have this effect. I suspect the laird has been poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Keith, Catrina and Jane exclaimed at once.

"Yes," the healer responded. "But with what, I cannot tell."

A couple of Alistair's men had gathered. Jane recognized some of them from her capture. There was a look of worry on their faces. Some meant to lift Alistair, but the healer shook his head.

"Could be shinegrass," one of the soldiers said. "Killed me ma and me braither."

The healer shook his head. "I have seen people poisoned with shinegrass. Their bodies break into blisters and their tongues become heavy. This is nae shinegrass."

"Owl's eye, then," another warrior said. "Very common in the country. Makes ye burn up like this."

"This is not owl's eye either," the healer said. "If it were, the laird would nae be like this. A simple headache in mild cases and a heavy one in dire cases. He would nae have a fever."

Jane had gazed at the wound just before the healer put down Alistair's kilt.

"It's wolfsbane," Jane said suddenly, and all eyes turned to her. She had seen a wound like this before. When she was little, her uncle had shown her a soldier who had been stabbed with a blade dipped in wolfsbane. It had been a small nick on his arm, and yet his body had been thrown into a fever. His lips had become bloodless, and he had dangled at the brink of death for the longest time. The soldier had looked just like Alistair looked now. Her uncle had taught her how to treat a wound such as this.

"I've seen it before, and I know how it can be treated. We need to move him. Quickly, please. Time is running out." She turned to Keith, who reacted like she had not heard him. "Take Alistair to his bedroom." She turned to the healer. "What herbs do you have for the treatment of poisons?" she asked.

The man let out a retinue of plants. Jane nodded. "You have all the ingredients for an antidote, save one. It's called maiden's hope. It grows near lakes. I hope it does not discriminate and grows next to Scottish lakes as well. For all our sakes."

"I dinnae ken an herb by that name," the healer said.

"I must accompany you, then," Jane said. "It may be known by another name here." She turned to his men. "You are wasting time that we do not have. He needs to be moved to his chambers." Alistair was still on the ground, unmoved by Keith and his other warriors. The healer was looking at her skeptically.

Of course. Too quickly, she'd forgotten the circumstances surrounding where she was.

"He will be dead by tomorrow!" she screamed. "If we do not get to work right now, today may be his last day on earth!"

One warrior stepped forward. He had small, hard eyes and a unibrow. "We love our laird, but we will not take instructions from a-"

"Dae as she says!" Alistair commanded. All eyes turned to him. He'd said it with such effort, Jane was worried that he had less hours than what she had earlier calculated. Swiftly, Keith and the other warriors carried him away. At least two looked at her as though it were she who had stabbed their leader. Never mind that. She had more pressing issues to think about. She turned to the healer. "Let us go."

The man nodded and began to walk.

"I will be back soon," Jane said to Catrina.

Catrina nodded, pulled at both sides on the robe that she had given Jane and clasped them more tightly together. Jane nodded in gratitude and began to follow after the healer. They'd walked some distance in silence before they heard the sound of hooves behind them. It was Tasgall. "Ma said tae follow you, Jane Marsh," he said. "Tae keep ye safe." He reached in his kilt and brought out a small sword. He brandished it with one hand and held on to the reins with the other.

Jane found herself smiling. "We are just headed fer a lake, Tasgall," she said.

"Aye, but danger lurks everywhere!" He said it with childlike glee, as though he anticipated danger and perhaps even hoped for it so that he could defeat it and shine.

And yet that filled Jane with a flash of fear. The child was right, for was it not Alistair, healthy, virile Alistair, who lay dying now? "You are right, Tasgall," she said.