Chapter 29: Chapter 29
The room grew deadly quiet while everyone waited to hear her response. She shook her head. "It isn't important."
"Oh, but it is important," Dylan said to a chorus of grumbled agreements.
"He was an Englishman," Alec blurted out.
Nodding to indicate she didn't doubt the child's statement, Annie picked up another cloth and resumed her task of cleaning the wounds. Gillian winced from the discomfort, unaware that she was now gripping Brodick's hand.
"I knew he had to be English," Annie grumbled. "I don't know of any Highlander who would raise his hand against a woman. Nay, I don't."
Several soldiers nodded their agreement. Desperate to change the subject, Gillian latched onto the first thought that came into her mind. "It's a fine day today, isn't it? The sun is bright and the wind is mild—"
Alec interrupted her. "The man was drunk, terrible drunk."
"Alec, no one wants to hear the particulars—"
"Ah, but we do want to hear," Brodick drawled out, his mild voice belying what he was truly feeling. He tried to be patient, but his need to hear the full story from start to finish was driving him to distraction. What kind of a madman would prey on such a gentle lady and a little boy? Alec had already painted a dark picture of the horror he'd survived and had let them all see a glimmer of the courage Gillian had shown. Aye, he wanted all the details, and he decided that he would hear the full tale before nightfall.
"He was drunk, wasn't he, Gillian?" Alec pestered.
She didn't answer him, but the boy wasn't deterred. Since she hadn't actually forbidden him to talk about the beating, he decided to tell everything he knew.
"Uncle Brodick, you know what?"
"No, what?"
"The man, he hit her with his fist and knocked her clear off her feet to the ground, and then you know what he did? He kicked her and kicked her and kicked her. I got real scared, and I tried to make him stop, but he wouldn't."
"How did you try to make him stop?" Dylan asked.
Alec lifted his shoulders. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe I cried."
"Annie, are you almost finished?" Gillian asked.
"Just about," the woman answered.
"And then you know what? I threw myself on top of Gillian, but she pushed me away, and then you know what she did? She rolled on top of me and put her hands on my head so I wouldn't get kicked none."
"What happened then, Alec?" Liam asked.
"She patted me and told me to hush 'cause she said it was going to be all right. She wouldn't let nobody hurt me. She didn't neither," he added. "I never once got kicked."
Gillian wanted to put her hand over Alec's mouth. The men looked horrified by what the child was telling them, but their gazes were locked on her. She felt ashamed and embarrassed by what had happened.
"Was it just one Englishman who touched Lady Gillian?" Robert asked. "Or were there others?"
"Another man hit her," Alec said.
"Alec, I wish you wouldn't—" Gillian began.
"But he did hit you, don't you remember? The man kicked you, and then the other man hit you. How come you don't remember?"
She bowed her head. "I remember, Alec. I just don't want to talk about it."
The boy turned to Brodick. "You know what she did after he hit her? She smiled just to make him mad."
Annie gathered up her cloths and put them aside on one of the stools, then spread a thick towel under Gillian's arm. "Laird, I'm finished cleaning out the infection."
Brodick nodded. "The boy's hungry. He would appreciate a piece of your bread if that isn't too much trouble."
"Maybe with honey on it," Alec suggested.
Annie smiled. "Of course with honey."
"You must eat it outside," Brodick ordered. "Robert will go with you and see you don't get into mischief."
"But, Uncle Brodick, I want to stay with Gillian. She needs me, and she might get lonely."
"I'll keep her company," he promised. "Robert?"
The soldier moved forward. Alec saw him coming around the table and pressed closer to Gillian. She leaned down and whispered, "I'll call out to you if I need you."
She had to promise on her mother's heart before Alec was convinced that she wouldn't disappear if he left her for a few minutes. Then he snatched the bread from Annie's hand and ran out the doorway, forgetting in his haste to thank her properly.
"He'll remember his manners later and then thank you," Gillian said. "I appreciate your patience with him. He's just a little boy and he's been through a very difficult time."
"But you got him through it unharmed." Dylan made the comment from behind her and once again put his hands on her shoulders. She wasn't sure if he was offering her praise and comfort or making sure she didn't try to escape.
Annie appeared a moment later with an oblong pan of foul-smelling brew she'd heated over the fire. She held the pan with a thick rag she'd wound around the iron handle and tested the warmth of the liquid with the tip of her finger.
"It isn't too hot, milady, but it's going to hurt something fierce. If you need to scream…"
"She will not make a sound." Brodick repeated the comment in a firm, no nonsense voice.
The arrogant man sounded as though he were stating a fact, and she couldn't help but be a little perturbed with his highhanded manners. She should be the one to decide if she were going to be brave or not. Why did he think it was his decision to make?
Annie continued to hover, looking frightened and unsure. Gillian glanced up. "Why is your treatment called mother's fire?"
She asked the question a scant second before Brodick nodded to the woman and she poured the liquid over Gillian's open wounds. The pain was instantaneous, horrific, consuming. Her arm felt as though it had been flayed and then dipped in lye. Her skin was on fire, the flames shooting down to her bone. Her response was just as instantaneous. Her stomach lurched, her head spun, and her vision blurred. She would have leapt out of the chair if Dylan and Brodick hadn't been holding her down. Dear God, the excruciating agony wouldn't let up. After the first spasm of wrenching pain, her skin began to throb and pulsate, and her arm felt as though hot embers were embedded in her wounds. Arching her back against Dylan, she took deep, gasping breaths, squeezed her eyes shut to hold her tears back, clenched her jaw tight so she wouldn't scream out loud, and gripped Brodick's hand with all her might.
Had he shown her a glimmer of sympathy, she would have broken down and sobbed like a baby, but when she looked at him for help and saw his calm, dispassionate expression, she was able to regain her control.
Realizing she was pressing against Dylan, she forced herself to sit forward in the chair. But she couldn't stop squeezing Brodick's hand, though God knows she tried. Just when she was certain she couldn't take another second of the torture, it began to ease.
"The worst is over, lass," Annie whispered in a voice that sounded as though she, too, wanted to have a good cry. "Now I'm going to put some soothing salve on your skin and wrap it up tight in a nice bandage. Is the pain easing yet?"
Gillian tried, but she found it impossible to speak just yet, and so she stiffly nodded. She stared beyond Brodick's shoulder, focusing on a splinter of wood in the far wall, and prayed she wouldn't pass out.
Annie worked quickly, and within minutes Gillian's arm was covered in a thick white ointment and then wrapped from elbow to wrist. It was awkward work, for Gillian still refused to let go of Brodick's hand. Now that the pain was bearable, she realized he was rubbing her palm with his thumb. His countenance hadn't changed, but the little caress had a powerful effect. She felt as though he had taken her into his arms and was holding her.
After Annie tied the ends of the bandage at her wrist, Gillian took one last calming breath and finally pulled her hand away from Brodick's.
"There, it's done," Annie whispered. "You'll be as fit as ever tomorrow. Please try not to get the injury wet for a couple of days."
Gillian nodded again. Her voice was hoarse when she thanked the woman for her help.
"If you'll excuse me for a moment," she began as she slowly stood up. Dylan took hold of her elbow and helped her. She sagged against him, slowly righted herself, and then inclined her head to Annie before she left the cottage. The soldiers bowed as she passed them.
Gillian was certain they watched her from the doorway, and so she didn't give in to the urge to run to the cover of the trees. Alec was skipping barefoot in the stream while Robert stood guard. Fortunately, the child didn't notice her when she hurried in the opposite direction or hear her when the first sob escaped.
Liam frowned with concern as he watched her leave, then turned back to Annie. "Is there any of that mother's fire left?"
"Aye, a few drops," she answered.
Liam went to the table, pulled out his dirk, and made a small cut above his wrist. All of his friends knew what he was going to do, and none of them was the least bit surprised, for Liam was known as the doubting Thomas of the group and also the most curious.
Wanting to know exactly what the liquid felt like against a raw cut, he put his arm out over the cloth Annie had left on the table and ordered, "Pour some of the liquid on this nick. I would know how it feels."
If Annie thought the request was insane, she was smart enough not to remark on it. She felt as though she were in a cave with a family of bears. The men were the most ferocious warriors in the Highlands. Easily insulted and quick to react, they made frightening enemies. Yet at the same time, they were the best of allies. Annie counted herself fortunate to be related to the Buchanans, because that meant she and her husband would never by preyed upon by other more civilized clans.
She stepped forward to do as he ordered. "Your cut is paltry compared to milady's," she remarked. "So the sting won't be near as bad."
After making the comment, she tipped the pan and let the liquid pour into the cut. Liam didn't react. His curiosity assuaged, he nodded to Annie and then turned and strode outside. Brodick and the others followed. Surrounding him, they patiently waited for him to give his report. Aaron smiled when Liam finally spoke because his voice sounded very like the croak of a drowning frog.
"It hurt like a son of a bitch," he whispered. "I don't know how the lass stood it."
Robert joined them, carrying Alec like a sack of wheat over his shoulder. The child squealed with delight until he noticed that Gillian wasn't there. A look of stark terror crossed his face as he scrambled to the ground and screamed Gillian's name at the top of his lungs. Robert clapped his hand over the boy's mouth to quiet him.
"She's just beyond the trees, Alec. She'll be right back. Calm yourself."
Tears poured down the child's face as he ran to his uncle. Brodick picked him up and roughly patted his back. "I forgot how very young you are, lad," he said gruffly. "Gillian didn't leave you."
Ashamed that he had panicked, Alec hid his face in the crook of Brodick's neck. "I thought maybe she did," he admitted.
"Since you've known her, has she ever left you?"
"No… but sometimes… I get scared," he whispered. "I didn't used to, but now I do."
"It's all right," Brodick said, and with a sigh he added, "You're safe now. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
"That's what Gillian said," he remembered. "She's not gonna let anyone hurt me, not ever." He lifted his head and stared into Brodick's eyes. "You got to take care of her too 'cause she's just a puny lady."
Brodick laughed. "I haven't noticed anything puny about her."
"But she is. She cries sometimes when she thinks I'm sleeping. I told her she needed you. I don't want nobody to hurt her any more."
"I'm not going to let anyone hurt her," he assured the child. "Now stop worrying and go with Robert to fetch his horse. We'll leave as soon as Gillian returns from her walk."
Gillian didn't return to the clearing for another ten minutes, and it was evident from her red eyes that she'd been crying. Brodick waited by his stallion while she said her thank-you to Annie, and when she hurried over to him, he lifted her up into the saddle, then swung up behind, her. She was so exhausted from her ordeal, she collapsed against him.
Brodick was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to protect and comfort her. He tried to be gentle as he settled her on his lap, then wrapped his arm around her and held her close. Within minutes she was sound asleep. He nudged his mount forward and gently settled Gillian in the crook of his arm, her long curls brushing his thigh. She had the most angelic face, and with the back of his hand he brushed her cheek tenderly. He finally gave in to the desire that had been plaguing him since the moment he'd laid eyes on her. He leaned down and kissed her soft lips, smiling when she wrinkled her nose and sighed.
His mind kept telling him to be reasonable. She was English, and God only knew, he couldn't abide anyone or anything English. He had learned his lesson well on his one foray into that hateful country when he was young and foolish. He'd wanted to find a bride as fitting as Iain Maitland's wife, Judith, but the quest had been futile, for Iain had found the only treasure England had to offer.
Or so Brodick had believed until he met Gillian. Now he wasn't so certain.
"You're a courageous lass," he whispered. And with a nod, he added, "I'll give you that."
But no more.
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