Highland Solution by Ceci Giltenan Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ceci Giltenan
Tags: Fiction
bone and trembling, Katherine stepped deeper into the dark cave. When she returned, she had changed into dry garments. She still shivered slightly, holding a heavy mantle around her shoulders.
“Ye are still cold.”
“Not as cold as I was. Everything is still a bit damp, but I’m a little warmer.”
Niall pulled her close to him, wrapping her in his plaid, hoping that his heat would further banish the chill while they slept. He held her close throughout the night, but she slept fitfully, waking with dark circles under her eyes.
“Katherine, ye don’t look well,” he observed.
“I am just a bit tired and achy. I’m sure I’ll feel better soon.”
“Just a bit?” he asked skeptically. He hadn’t known her very long, but he suspected that if she was admitting to feeling “a bit tired and achy” she actually felt much worse than that. Still, there wasn’t much he could do so he didn’t push her. “Come, let me change your dressing.”
Katherine turned her back to him with no argument. Niall opened her kirtle to find her back was not healing and one particularly deep lash showed signs of festering. Following her directions, he cleansed it as best he could. Her clenched teeth and fisted hands told him that it caused her pain, but there was nothing else to be done. When he finished, she looked as pale and drawn as she had the evening before.
Once again they set out with Niall cradling Katherine on his lap. The storm had blown itself out during the night. The day grew fine and warm, but by midmorning she shivered in his arms. Closing her eyes against the bright sun, she snuggled closer to him, seeking his warmth. Her flushed face felt hot and dry to his touch. He realized, in spite of all his efforts, fever had set in—she was desperately ill. When they stopped at midday, he tried with little success to get her to eat or at least drink something. She curled up on a plaid and slept. He said to his men, “If we ride hard, we can reach Brathanead by this evening.”
Alan asked, “Do ye think she can tolerate traveling any faster?”
“I think if I don’t get her into the hands of a healer soon, I might lose her,” Niall answered, his voice unable to hide the anxiety he felt.
Niall pushed as hard as the horses could tolerate, Katherine burning up in his arms. They reached Laird Malcolm MacLennan’s keep, Brathanead, at dusk. The MacLennans had been staunch allies of the MacIans for as long as Niall could remember. Niall had trained under Malcolm’s father and he had enormous respect for the old laird.
Malcolm and Niall’s father, Alastair, had been good friends. Niall and Fingal thought of him as an uncle. Now, just as his father had, Niall considered him to be his most trusted ally. Malcolm met them in the courtyard. A flicker of surprise crossed his face when he saw the limp, feverish lass in Niall’s arms. He issued orders to see to their comfort and sent for the clan’s healer. “Give her to me, lad.” Malcolm reached to lift Katherine off Niall’s lap. Niall hesitated. “Lad, I won’t break her. Ye have to get off that horse.” Niall lowered her into Malcolm’s waiting arms and dismounted. “God’s teeth, lad, where did ye find this waif and what in the hell happened to her?”
“She is my wife, Malcolm.” At his shocked expression, Niall added, “It’s a long story.” He took Katherine back in his arms, and they entered the keep. Fingal followed carrying a sleepy Tomas.
“Who is the other urchin?” Malcolm asked lightly as he led them up the stairs into one of the towers containing bedchambers.
“A clansman,” answered Fingal, without offering any further information.
Katherine mumbled feverishly. “I promised I wouldn’t hide anything from you.”
“Wheesht, lass.”
“Niall, I’m ill.”
“Aye, lass, I know, but ye will get better now,” Niall answered, willing it to be true.
Then, in a more panicked voice, she asked, “Where is Tomas?”
“Tomas is fine,
“Ye are still cold.”
“Not as cold as I was. Everything is still a bit damp, but I’m a little warmer.”
Niall pulled her close to him, wrapping her in his plaid, hoping that his heat would further banish the chill while they slept. He held her close throughout the night, but she slept fitfully, waking with dark circles under her eyes.
“Katherine, ye don’t look well,” he observed.
“I am just a bit tired and achy. I’m sure I’ll feel better soon.”
“Just a bit?” he asked skeptically. He hadn’t known her very long, but he suspected that if she was admitting to feeling “a bit tired and achy” she actually felt much worse than that. Still, there wasn’t much he could do so he didn’t push her. “Come, let me change your dressing.”
Katherine turned her back to him with no argument. Niall opened her kirtle to find her back was not healing and one particularly deep lash showed signs of festering. Following her directions, he cleansed it as best he could. Her clenched teeth and fisted hands told him that it caused her pain, but there was nothing else to be done. When he finished, she looked as pale and drawn as she had the evening before.
Once again they set out with Niall cradling Katherine on his lap. The storm had blown itself out during the night. The day grew fine and warm, but by midmorning she shivered in his arms. Closing her eyes against the bright sun, she snuggled closer to him, seeking his warmth. Her flushed face felt hot and dry to his touch. He realized, in spite of all his efforts, fever had set in—she was desperately ill. When they stopped at midday, he tried with little success to get her to eat or at least drink something. She curled up on a plaid and slept. He said to his men, “If we ride hard, we can reach Brathanead by this evening.”
Alan asked, “Do ye think she can tolerate traveling any faster?”
“I think if I don’t get her into the hands of a healer soon, I might lose her,” Niall answered, his voice unable to hide the anxiety he felt.
Niall pushed as hard as the horses could tolerate, Katherine burning up in his arms. They reached Laird Malcolm MacLennan’s keep, Brathanead, at dusk. The MacLennans had been staunch allies of the MacIans for as long as Niall could remember. Niall had trained under Malcolm’s father and he had enormous respect for the old laird.
Malcolm and Niall’s father, Alastair, had been good friends. Niall and Fingal thought of him as an uncle. Now, just as his father had, Niall considered him to be his most trusted ally. Malcolm met them in the courtyard. A flicker of surprise crossed his face when he saw the limp, feverish lass in Niall’s arms. He issued orders to see to their comfort and sent for the clan’s healer. “Give her to me, lad.” Malcolm reached to lift Katherine off Niall’s lap. Niall hesitated. “Lad, I won’t break her. Ye have to get off that horse.” Niall lowered her into Malcolm’s waiting arms and dismounted. “God’s teeth, lad, where did ye find this waif and what in the hell happened to her?”
“She is my wife, Malcolm.” At his shocked expression, Niall added, “It’s a long story.” He took Katherine back in his arms, and they entered the keep. Fingal followed carrying a sleepy Tomas.
“Who is the other urchin?” Malcolm asked lightly as he led them up the stairs into one of the towers containing bedchambers.
“A clansman,” answered Fingal, without offering any further information.
Katherine mumbled feverishly. “I promised I wouldn’t hide anything from you.”
“Wheesht, lass.”
“Niall, I’m ill.”
“Aye, lass, I know, but ye will get better now,” Niall answered, willing it to be true.
Then, in a more panicked voice, she asked, “Where is Tomas?”
“Tomas is fine,