Chapter Twelve

Sorcha raced back to camp carrying the ash bark she'd collected after she and Calan had returned Alasdair to camp, and she prayed to the gods that Alasdair was still alive. When the camp came into view, Calan was pacing in the distance and Alasdair was crouched on his knees, hands in the dirt, and appeared to be retching. Relief flooded her, and she pushed herself harder to reach him. When she got close enough to hear him, his words stopped her in her tracks.

"I need Mariot. I need Mariot. I need her. I need her."

"I'm here, mo ghraidh, " she said.

Alasdair looked toward her but didn't seem to see her, and no wonder! Beads of sweat covered his brow and dripped down his chest. Undoubtedly, fever had set in. She turned to Calan to explain, but the look of understanding on his face told her no explanation was needed.

"Mariot," Calan said, addressing her, "Alasdair had been retching since he roused."

"'Tis a good thing. His body is trying to rid itself of the poison."

Calan nodded, though he didn't look convinced.

"Did ye prepare the dagger?"

"Aye," Calan said. "I doused it with wine, and it's ready to be set to the fire."

"I'll do that, and ye hold him," she said, nodding toward Alasdair.

"I can try, but he's verra strong."

"Ye must be stronger," she insisted. "If I slip when cauterizing the wound, I could cut too deep and sever a blood supply. I've seen it happen afore, and that would certainly kill him if the snake bite does nae. Alasdair, ye will nae move when I cauterize yer wound, lest I should kill ye and ye abandon me in this world."

Alasdair nodded, and he finally focused on her. "I'll nae move, mo ghraidh. "

"I'll set the dagger to the fire, then," Calan said.

She frowned at him. "What? Nay. We just agreed ye would hold him."

"There's nae a need," he said in a confident tone, stepping close to her as Alasdair doubled over, retching once more. "Alasdair gave his word to ye—to Mariot—and he'd die afore breaking his word to her."

That same ridiculous surge of jealousy over a dead woman resurfaced, and Sorcha ruthlessly shoved it away, nodded to Calan, and he moved to the fire to get the dagger hot enough. She kneeled in front of Alasdair just as he was sitting up once more. "Mariot," he said, his tone ragged, "I'm dying."

"Nay," she said, her stomach clenching tight. "Ye're nae dying. I'll nae let ye die. I vow it."

Calan kneeled beside her and handed her the dagger.

"Dunnae forget yer vow, Alasdair," she said. "Ye kinnae move."

"I'll nae," he said, the words full of fierce conviction.

She caught his gaze. "Keep yer eyes on me," she said, having learned long ago it was much better not to look at what was being done to you. When he nodded, she looked down toward the wound and could feel the heat of his stare upon her. Clenching her teeth, she set the red-hot blade to the puffy, bloody wound and tensed for Alasdair's reaction.

He did not move, nor did he utter a word. When the wound was properly cauterized, she looked up and found him staring at her, his brows dipped in obvious confusion. "Sorcha, Calan," he said, surprising her that he had drifted back to reality.

"Aye?" they responded in unison.

Alasdair looked to Calan. "If I should die, Calan, protect Sorcha with yer life."

"Aye, I will, but ye'll nae—"

"Vow it," Alasdair said in an intense tone.

"I vow it."

With that, he nodded, satisfied, and his eyelids shut as he slumped sideways once more, caught by Calan this time before his head hit the ground.

Sorcha finished rubbing the last of the ash bark on Alasdair's wound as he slept fitfully, and then she sat up. She scooted back toward the log Calan was leaning against as he finished cooking the rabbit he'd caught while she cared for Alasdair.

His worried gaze locked on her. "Is there anything else ye can do?"

She shook her head, fatigue pressing against her from every direction. "Nay," she said, glancing toward Alasdair, who had settled for the moment. Looking at him now, at his size and his solid build, it was hard to believe anything could bring this man down, let alone a snake, but he was obviously one of those unlucky people who were affected horribly by venom. "I've done all I ken to do, and now we just need to watch and wait."

Calan nodded, brought the rabbit out of the fire and offered a chunk to her. Her stomach flipped, knotted at the thought of eating with Alasdair hovering so close to death.

He had shown her honor in so many ways, and she had disregarded it and only concerned herself with the fact that he was taking her to the family she did not know in exchange for coin. She still didn't think that was right, but sitting here now, she wanted to know why he was doing it. She did not believe his motives were selfish. She believed they were complicated and that he was doing it for the good of someone else, as he'd implied. That didn't make it right, but it made it easier for her to understand and forgive.

"Ye need to eat," Calan said.

"I kinnae right now. Mayhap later. Will ye tell me," she said slowly, "of Alasdair's wife and how she died? And of why he is forcing me to a family I dunnae ken and into a marriage I dunnae want? I think," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat, "I think he's nae as dishonorable as I had believed." No man who lacked honor would take a snake bite for someone else or even stand up for a stranger as he'd done in the shooting competition.

"Alasdair is the most honorable man I ken. Ye judged based on one act. Ye kinnae judge a man's character, a man's honor, without examining the motivations. He is nae motivated by self-gain. Everything he does is for his clan and his children, nae ever for himself."

"He has children?" she asked, surprised but unsure why. He'd been wed, after all.

"Aye," Calan replied, shoving a piece of rabbit into this mouth. "Twins. A boy and a girl, Hew and Beatie."

"How many summers are they?" she asked, her attention trailing to Alasdair once more. He was tossing again, and she moved toward him and placed her hand on his forehead. He was burning up. She picked up the material she'd ripped from her gown, then the wine skin she'd used to collect water from the river, and poured the water over the fabric before placing the cool, wet material on Alasdair's forehead and chest. When he sighed and settled almost immediately, she scooted back to lean by Calan again. When she looked to him to continue their conversation, she found him watching her with a surprised expression on his face. "What?" she asked.

"For a lass who finds a man dishonorable, ye are treating him with tender care."

"I was vexed and jumped to conclusions that met my irritated state. As ye said, I see more clearly now that I kinnae judge the whole of this man on one action, especially given his other actions toward me."

Calan nodded. "Hew and Beatie are six summers. And since ye'll likely ask, their mama has been dead since the day they were born."

Sadness made her chest ache. "Did she die birthing the bairns?"

"Aye," Calan said.

"That must have been horrid for Alasdair to watch."

"He was nae there, and that was worse. His guilt has made him unable to move out of the past and into the here and now. He certainly kinnae look toward the future."

She frowned. "Why was he nae there?"

"He went on a mission to aid the clan."

"Then I dunnae think he should harbor guilt for that. He's laird, and he must think of the entire clan."

"Aye. I agree. But Mariot had begged him nae to go. She had a fear of giving birth because her dearest friend died birthing her son."

"Ah, I see now. She wanted him to stay to ease her fears."

"Aye, and he blames himself that she passed. He thinks if he had stayed, if he had been there, she would have lived."

He had loved her greatly. Calan didn't need to tell Sorcha so. Alasdair had shown it in his delusions; hearing about his past now merely confirmed it. "Alasdair lives to serve his clan, to serve others?"

"Aye, he thinks always of each member of his clan first but of others too. The mission he went on back then did benefit the clan, but it greatly benefited the people he was aiding as well."

Sorcha chewed on her lip for a moment while she considered Calan's words. "He needs the coin my... my b-brother is offering for the clan, does he nae? Is that it?"

"Aye," Calan said, confirming what her instincts had told her. "I dunnae think he wants to return ye to yer brother at all, given how adamant ye are against it, even though ye dunnae even ken what sort of man awaits ye as yer future husband."

"I dunnae wish a husband," she said, but even as she spoke the words, she realized they felt less true than they had before she'd met Alasdair. He had shown her that good, honorable men did exist. There were men out there who were so devoted to their wives, so in love with them, that they loved them beyond death.

Calan gave her a knowing look. "I think ye are nae certain what ye wish, and ye need a husband. This world is harsh for women who are alone."

She could not argue with that, and it irritated her greatly. "I wish to open an apothecary shop, nae shackle myself to a man who will have control over me and nae ever let me do such a thing."

"Then ye must choose the right man," Calan said, and then his face flushed red in realization, she was certain, of what he'd said.

"Now, mayhap ye see why I dunnae wish to be dragged to a home I have nae ever kenned, to a brother I dunnae remember and who wants me to wed a man I dunnae ken so that it will bring him a great alliance."

"I see why, but it dunnae change what must be done, and, as I said, ye dunnae ken Laird Campbell. He may well be like Alasdair and be such a man who appreciates a wife with a sharp mind."

"Is that how Alasdair was with his wife?"

"Aye. He did nae rule Mariot; he ruled with her."

Oh, to be so lucky to have a husband like that, but she hadn't thought men like that existed, and she did not believe a man who had agreed to wed her without ever meeting her was a man who cared what she wished. "Why does he—yer clan, need coin so badly? Did something happen to empty yer coffers and take away the means to fill them again?"

"Aye, a plague swept through our sheep and killed them all, and that wiped out a large means of income. That was right after Mariot died, and Alasdair believed he was being punished for her death." Calan shrugged. "The castle has fallen into disrepair, and many of the clan members, especially warriors who were welcomed at other clans for their fighting abilities, have left because food has been scarce. 'Tis fairly desperate now."

Her heart swelled with understanding. "Delivering me is the only means he has to gain the needed coin." It wasn't a question but a statement.

"Nay," Calan said, surprising her. "There is an heiress to a great castle that wishes Alasdair to wed her. If he did so, he would gain all the coin needed to replenish the clan coffers, fix the castle, and stock the food stores."

"Why does he nae wed her?"

"He does nae love her," Calan said.

She stilled in disbelief and rising irritation. "He will nae wed the heiress—"

"Lady Wallace," Calan provided.

"Because he does nae love her," she continued, "yet he is dragging me to an unknown home to be forced to wed even though I dunnae wish it?" And to think she'd been ready to absolve Alasdair for taking her against her will!

"That is nae what I am saying," Calan replied. "He thinks it unfair to her to bind her for life to a man who will nae ever love her as he believes a man should love his wife, as he loved Mariot."

"He believes he will nae ever love a woman again as he did his wife?"

"Aye," Calan said quietly.

Alasdair had loved his wife so completely that even death could not break it. He did not think it possible for himself to ever love that way again, and he did not feel he could wed the heiress given that. And yet he was dragging her to wed a man she did not know. She wanted to hate him, yet it was not so simple. He was doing what he must to save his clan, and mayhap he had convinced himself that she could find love with the man she was to wed. Mayhap, she could. What if he was a man with the capability to love that Alasdair possessed? She suddenly had a small glimmer of hope. She still did not want to be wed to a man she did not know, but at least she now had an example of a man that had been good to his wife. Tears filled Sorcha's eyes, and she quickly wiped them away but not before Calan saw.

"Why are ye crying?"

"I... I did nae think such men existed who would love so completely and unselfishly," she said, embarrassed to have spoken such private thoughts aloud, but it was too late to take the words back.

"I dunnae ken what ye mean," Calan replied, looking utterly confused.

She laughed at that. "Of course, ye dunnae. Ye're a man." And likely nae the sort of man Alasdair was, because that sort of man, she knew from her own experience, was a rarity. "It makes more sense to me now why Alasdair gave his dagger up for my sister."

"I was shocked at that," Calan admitted.

"Why?" she asked. "Ye have talked at length upon his selflessness."

"Well, aye, and he is that, but that dagger was a wedding gift from Mariot."

Her gaze flew to Alasdair, and at that moment, he groaned, rolled over, and began to toss up the contents of his stomach again. Sorcha scrambled to him, heart pounding, set her hand to his forehead and snatched it back with a cry. "He's hotter than before!"

Calan hurried to her, crouched down, and felt Alasdair's forehead as well. "What can be done?"

"I dunnae know," she said, shaking her head.

"Mariot, Mariot," Alasdair muttered, and his words, filled with so much misery and longing, struck a heart-wrenching realization in her.

"I fear his will to live is lost," she said. "He wants to go to his wife."

"Then we must remind him of why he should stay."

"His bairns!" they said in unison.

"Listen to me, ye stubborn clot-heid," Sorcha said, and though her words were stern she kept her tone soft. "Hew and Beatie need ye. They have lost their mama, and I ken how much ye miss her, but they should nae have to endure losing ye, too. I grew up with a horrid man for a da and my mama died when I was a wee lass. Ye dunnae want that for yer children. Ye must be there for them, and... and I ken ye love yer wife, but she dunnae need ye as yer children do. And I ken now the reasons ye are taking me to my family, and I forgive ye." She thought mayhap guilt was weighing heavily upon him. She took his hand in hers and held tight. "So fight. Fight for yer children and yer clan, and, well, fight for me, because... because meeting ye has given me hope that I did nae ever expect to have, and if ye die, ye take that hope with ye."