Time After Time (95 page)

Kaireen grasped the blade. She wrinkled her nose. But she could not find a spot next to him without blood. She swept to the other side of the bed.

Holding the dagger she cut four strips from the bed linens. Her hands shook. Finished, she brought the strips to Elva.

“Careful.” Elva handed her the third vial.

And Kaireen jumped at her handmaid’s snap. But she steadied the vial in one hand and the strips and dagger in the other. Holding the vial this close made her eyes water from the pungent smell.

“Douse the wound with this liquid on the cloth. Clean the wound until no blood comes.” Elva threaded a needle. “On with it, child.”

Kaireen squatted beside Bram. After this Elva would require a thrashing for her behavior. As though unconcerned, Elva threaded a needle.

She poured the liquid onto one of the strips and then wiped his wound. The first two strips were quickly soaked with blood.

If Elva did not heal him, she would have her head. She let her shoulders relax, relieved that blood did not cover the fourth cloth. She sheathed her dagger attaching it to her belt.

“’Tis clean.” She turned back to Elva.

Elva nodded, bringing the threaded needle.

“What do you need it for? His wound does not bleed anymore.”

“Any movement and his wound will reopen. The liquid is for cleaning, to stop the fever and infection. Also it works well to staunch the bleeding.”

Kaireen watched as Elva sewed Bram’s wound closed. She cringed each time the needle passed through his flesh. She wondered if it would leave a scar like the others that randomly lined his chest and shoulders in fading lines.

Elva finished. She tied a knot to secure her mending, then bit the extra thread with her teeth.

Elva tested the solution she had made in the water basin. Then she smeared the foul smelling remedy across his stitched wound.

“Cut long strips from his bed linens. Long enough to wrap around his chest.”

Kaireen followed her instructions.

Then Elva emptied the water basin into the chamber pot. Yellowish-brown paste covered Bram’s wound. Then her handmaid used a little of the salve on Kaireen’s cheek where the willow tree had slashed her. The cut burned and she reached her hand up to scratch it when Elva slapped her hand away.

“Leave it be. Call the two guards in,” Elva ordered her as she cleaned her hands using the water from a pitcher.

Kaireen almost curtsied, but caught herself and frowned. She stalked to the door and then flung it open. “Come inside,” she barked.

They stumbled in.

On her grey livery, Elva dried her hands, the vials of liquids and pouches of herbs hidden. “Lift him so I can bind his wound.”

They gaped at Kaireen and she nodded.

Elva wrapped the cloths around Bram and then fastened them closed with a knot.

Kaireen thanked the guards and they left. She waited for hours and no change in Bram’s fever or consciousness. Elva disappeared leaving her alone with him. On her handmaid’s orders, she smoothed droplets of water on his lips every so often. He did not gain consciousness, but would swallow when she drizzled the water into his mouth.

“Drink.” Elva returned and handed her a goblet filled with honey-mead. “You need to rest. It would not do to lose either of you to battle nor blight.”

Kaireen wondered where Elva had gotten mead; it was probably Bram’s. But her throat was parched and her stomach rumbled. She was in need of peaceful rest, not wanting the demons of the battle to trouble her dreams.

She downed the liquor, but a bitter taste lingered on her tongue as she set the goblet back in Elva’s outstretched hand.

Bram moaned.

Concerned, her fingers touched his cheek. Relief—his skin was clammy, but not burning as before. She brushed back his golden hair and flushed, recalling his kiss. The kiss she wanted to slash him for.

But she must not fall in love with this man. He was a Lochlann.

She paced around the room while Elva tidied it up. Once he was healed, she would insist he leave and never return. Her handmaid drew the shutters closed and latched them in place.

Flickering candles provided light in the darkened chambers. Kaireen stared at the flames. They danced with orange and yellow costumes. Dizzy, she swayed on her feet as Elva tossed blankets over Bram.

Then her handmaid stood at her arm pulling her toward the door. “Away with you now.” She said. “He needs rest. And you need to eat.” Kaireen opened her mouth to protest, but her handmaid interrupted. “I will get soup in him, do not worry. Go to the kitchens and eat the leftover lamb. Cook has some heated. Then you will go straight to bed yourself. You can deal with your parents and husband on the morrow.”

Kaireen shook her head, the room spinning. “He is not my husband.” Her voice sounded soft to her ears.

“Of course, dear.” Elva pushed her out.

Kaireen shuffled into the kitchens, but could not recall her steps there. The cook, a wide woman with spindle legs, carved slices of a leg of lamb, explained Kaireen’s good timing as she now had time to re-heat tonight’s meal for her supper.

After swallowing a few bites of lamb and stewed carrots, Kaireen staggered to her room.

She kicked the door closed behind her, stumbled and fell across her bed. She strained to keep her eyes open, but sleep won. “I will not fall in love with him.” Surely he will be glad to be on his way when he recovers for he must value his life more than a hard-hearted woman.

Chapter Six

Kaireen woke with her auburn hair tickling her nose. Sunlight filtered through the half closed shutters. She groaned. Running a hand through her hair, her fingers caught on tangles. She was dressed in her green tunic with tattered gashes from her ride last night.

Her tongue tasted bitter as she clambered out from bed. Where was Elva?

She glared at the closed shutters. Yanking one side open she squinted from the sunlight, shading her eyes with a hand and gaped. The sun burned high in the sky. It must be past noon.

She snatched a clean shift and gown. She left her room, and stamped down the hallway to the bathing chamber. As she grumbled, her green riding skirts flared around her legs.

On the way she spotted a servant girl. “Ready a bath for me.”

The girl curtsied.

“Make the water warm enough. I do not want gooseflesh.”

The girl giggled, staring at Kaireen’s disheveled hair.

Inside, Kaireen set her clothing on the bench. Muttering she must look a mess, she grabbed a silver comb left for guests and raked it through her hair.

“With your hair tangled, you look a worse sight then me.” A male voice sounded to her right.

She whirled around recognizing Bram’s voice.

Leaning on a wooden staff, he grinned. His side was bound with fresh linens round his chest. Ends of his golden hair lay damp and brushed against his collarbone. He shifted and then grimaced, as if standing was painful.

She forced her body to stay still. She would not rush into his arms like some milksop girl wanting to kiss his face for living. Instead, she tugged the comb through her tangled mane.

“Careful.” He winked. “Else you will have no hair left on your beautiful head.”

She winced, jerking out a handful of hair. Did he know about Rebecca, then? She frowned at his smile.

Against the wall he slouched, watching her.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” she asked.

“Until I have strength to make the journey back to my room.”

Was he so weak he had to rest?

Where was Elva? Oh, she would skin the woman alive if he fell to sickness from strain after all she went through to save his Lochlann hide.

“Perhaps after you bathed and dressed…” He flashed a smile making warmth spread through her body. “Then my strength may return…for I am enjoying the view.”

She gasped and then threw the comb at him.

With a laugh, and a groan he dodged her throw. He hobbled away. His wooden support thudded against the stone floor and then faded into the distance.

Kaireen flushed from the roots of her hair to her chest. She felt moisture between her legs. What was wrong with her? How could she hate someone so and then feel this way against her will. And she wanted her own bath, not leftover water that caressed him and still carried his scent of sea, mead, and musk.

The servant girl wobbled in, carrying a bucket of steaming water in each hand. At this rate it would be dark before the barrel was full enough for her to bathe.

Kaireen shook her head. Curse her for a fool. She would not love him. She would not.

Then Elva strode in carrying another two full buckets.

“Where have you been?” she screeched. “That heathen bathed before me again. And he had the impudence to suggest watching me as I bathed.”

Elva ordered the servant girl to wait. Instead of apologizing, she folded her hands and then glanced back at her mistress. Nonchalant, as though to bait Kaireen’s anger. “Last night you were intent on him living. Do you now wish me to have him die?”

“No.” Kaireen flinched. “But he should stay in bed. Not wait around to catch glimpses of women trying to bathe.”

“I had to clean and then rebind his wound with fresh linens.”

“Why?” Kaireen flipped her hair back. “He could wash, and the linens be reused.”

Six servants rushed forward, each carrying two buckets of steaming water. Then they emptied them into the empty bathing barrel. The steam played across the water like wispy fog.

“Silly girl.” Elva ignored Kaireen’s heated stare. “Clean linens will keep the fever away. Or as I asked afore, do you wish him ill now?”

It was easier to bide his presence when he was asleep. He looked more like a harmless boy than a Lochlann sea raider when he was unable to speak or hunt her down for kissing. Kaireen stuttered, but glanced away to compose her words. “No. But have a servant sent to my chambers if you are unable to meet your duties to me.”

“Your water is ready. Did I forsake my duties?”

“I do not approve of your tardiness.”

“Tardy or no,” Elva sniffed. “I have your bath ready before this weed of a girl warmed two buckets.” She nodded her head toward the servant girl. “Or does speed entice you so you wish to wash from a mere pail?”

“You take too many freedoms. See this does not happen again.” She took the hazel twig the handmaiden offered, grateful that the flavor covered the tart hint from the drink Elva gave her last night.

After undressing, she climbed the wooden ladder into the bathing barrel. Along the edge lay a wool washcloth and a jar of soap. She scrubbed clean and washed her hair. Leaves, twigs, and dirt from her journey floated along the surface of the water.

Lately, Elva was too forthright. She would set her handmaid straight. Ensure Elva knew her place as servant, and she the mistress.

Kaireen scrambled from the bath with her mind set. Her body dripped water across the stone floor. She dried and then yanked on her leine. The material clung to her and her wet hair drenched her back.

She squeezed the excess water from her hair. Then she donned her gown. Panels of red left in the dye longer alternated with lighter shades.

Crossing the bathing area, Kaireen found the young servant girl in the corridor. She leaned against a wooden beam picking her nails.

Kaireen recalled not this servant’s name; Marian or Leah?

When the girl saw Kaireen leaving, she snapped her hands to her side and fumbled into a curtsy.

“Have Elva waiting for me in my room.” Kaireen waved her ahead.

“My lady, she already waits you there.”

“How do you know this?” She frowned.

“She told me to stay here and wait until you bid me to fetch her.” The girl reddened.

“Then make better use of yourself.” Kaireen picked up her skirts. “Clean the baths.”

Kaireen ignored her stomach rumbles and ran to her chamber. Her servant should do as her mistress bid her and not as she pleased.

As she pushed open her door, she ready to reprimand her handmaid, Elva interrupted her.

“Let me fix your hair.” Inside waited Elva, ivory comb in hand and smile on her face. “You must speak with your lord father and mother about last night.”

Kaireen faltered a step. Absently she smoothed her hand on the front of her dress. Her stomach flopped against her palm as she thought about what punishment they would give her.

“Aye.” She swallowed. “Braid my hair, for I know not what they will require of me.”

Elva beamed, guiding Kaireen like a child to her stool. The Laird O’Neill’s sword leaned against her bedpost. No blood remained on the blade, so she guessed Elva had cleaned it.

Numb, she sat on the wooden stool. Not feeling the tangles eased at Elva’s strokes.

Kaireen noticed Elva also had changed her bedcovers. Near the bed a fire fed on logs inside the hearth. The scent of pine filled the room.

All of the shutters along the outer wall were open. Sunlight and a cool breeze played across her damp hair, drying the strands.

Elva twisted her auburn locks into a braid. Then she secured the plait with a white ribbon. The end of the braid curled upward, brushing against Kaireen’s waist.

“You are ready for them now,” Elva said.

The fire popped and Kaireen jumped. Her stomach churned. Even though her father gave her anything she wished, his temper frightened everyone when it was unleashed. She had never experienced his displeasure for herself, but she had seen him cause a bishop to weep.

She scooted off the stool and then crept to the door. As her fingers grazed the handle, the door swung open. Kaireen shrieked.

Her mother’s handmaid, Rhiannon, glared at her from the other side of the door. “Your lord father and mother request your presence immediately.” Rhiannon’s grey hair was yanked tight and forced into a bun at the top of her head. Her head covering allowed for no stray hairs to escape. At the sight of something, her eyes widened. Perhaps the view of the O’Neill sword made her pause. Her height was the same as Kaireen. But she had a way of staring down her pointed nose as though Kaireen was a spoiled child to be switched. “Follow me.” She turned on her heel. Her heavy steps echoed through the corridor. Kaireen rushed forward. Once when she was seven, she had dawdled behind Rhiannon and was sent to bed without dinner for a week for her slowness. With each step her slippers hit the edge of Rhiannon’s shadow. She rounded a corner as Rhiannon led her to the great hall. Servants scattered around to finish clearing the morning meal.