In Bed with a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy 1)

“W—What of our alliance?” McDonald babbled.

“All that concerns me right now is my wife. Go home, McDonald. Go home and pray that she lives. We’ll speak of our proposed alliance another day.”

He all but threw McDonald toward the door leading from the hall.

“Ewan! The lass is sick again. She’s retching something fierce. Nothing Caelen and I do seems to help.”

Ewan whipped around to see Alaric standing at the entrance to the hall, his expression haggard.

“See to their departure,” Ewan snapped at Gannon. “Escort them to our border and make sure they don’t linger.”

Then Ewan broke into a run, shoving past Alaric as he thundered up the stairs.

He burst into the chamber to see Caelen holding Mairin over the side of the bed as she gagged and heaved. Caelen looked desperate, and yet he held Mairin protectively against him, anchoring her as her entire body shook with the force of her retching.

Caelen looked up as Ewan charged toward the bed. “Ewan, thank God you’re here. I can’t make her stop and ’tis killing her!”

Ewan took Mairin’s limp body and cradled her in his arms. “Shh, sweeting. Breathe with me. Through your nose. You must stop the retching.”

“Sick,” she whimpered. “Please, Ewan, let me die. It hurts so much.”

His heart turned over and he hugged her tighter against him. “Just breathe,” he whispered. “Breathe for me, Mairin. The hurt will go away. I swear it.”

She clutched his tunic so tight that the material drew uncomfortably across his arms. Her body tensed, but this time she managed to hold back the urge to vomit.

“That’s it, lass. Hold on to me. I won’t let you go. I’m here.”

She buried her face against his neck and went limp. He lowered her to the bed then looked up at Caelen who stood by the bed, his face drawn in helpless fury.

“Wet a cloth so I can wipe her face.”

Caelen hastened to the washbasin. He wrung out the cloth and shoved it in Ewan’s direction. Ewan wiped Mairin’s brow and then ran the damp material over her mouth. She sighed but didn’t open her eyes as he cleaned the rest of her face.

She seemed to be over the spasms that wracked her stomach. She cuddled into his side and wrapped one arm around his middle. And then with a sigh, she slipped bak into a deep sleep.

Ewan cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips to her forehead. The fact that she’d awakened was a good sign, but he hated to see her in such pain. Her body was trying to rid itself of the poison, and she was valiantly fighting the effects.

“Live,” he whispered. “I won’t let you die.”

Alaric, who’d followed Ewan back to the chamber, and Caelen looked discomfited by their brother’s uncharacteristic display of emotion. In that moment, Ewan didn’t care who saw him at his weakest.

“You care for her,” Alaric said gruffly.

Ewan felt something inside him loosen and unfold. Aye, he loved her, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. By God, she was going to wake up, sass him, and then he’d seduce her into giving him the words he most wanted to hear.

Aye, she’d live, and then the difficult little lass was going to love him every bit as much as he loved her.

He looked to his brothers, who watched him with odd fascination. “I have need of your help. Someone tried to kill her. As much as it pains me, it has to be someone from our clan. We have a traitor in our midst and he must be flushed out or Mairin will never be safe. I can’t lose her. Our clan can’t lose her. She represents our salvation—and mine. If you won’t do it for her, your sister, then do it for me, your brother.”

Alaric went down to his knees by the bed and reached out and placed his fingers into Mairin’s limp hand. Caelen squared his shoulders and then he, too, got on his knees at Alaric’s side. He touched Mairin’s shoulder and his gaze softened as he stared down at her.

“You’ve always had our allegiance, Ewan,” Alaric said in a grave voice. “Our loyalty belongs to you. Now I pledge my allegiance and my loyalty to Mairin as well. I’ll protect her as your wife and my sister. I’ll place her safety above my own.”

Alaric’s solemn declaration sent a fierce surge of pride through Ewan.

“She’s a good lass,” Caelen said gruffly. “She’s a good mother to Crispen and a loyal wife. She’s a credit to you, Ewan. I would protect her with my life and seek justice for the wrongs committed against her. She’ll always have a place of honor in my eyes.”

Ewan smiled, knowing how difficult it must have been for Caelen to recite such a pledge. “Thank you. This means much to me. We must make sure she is safe from this day forward. She won’t be easy to contain when she is back on her feet.”

“You sound sure of her recovery,” Caelen said.

Ewan looked down again as hope burned in his gut like brimstone.

“Aye, I’m sure. The lass is too contrary to give in to death.”

Ewan met with his brothers late into the night. They sat in the hall with only a single candle to illuminate the dark room.

“We’ve questioned everyone who served, everyone in the kitchen, everyone who came into contact with the food, and everyone who was gathered in the hall,” Caelen reported.

“Gertie is distraught,” Alaric said grimly. “She’s sick that Mairin was poisoned. I don’t believe for a moment that Gertie was behind it even if she would have had the easiest opportunity of anyone. She’s been with our clan since before we were born. She was loyal to our father and has been steadfast since his death.”