Chapter Five
Sky-blue eyes and golden blonde hair floated in and out of his mind like wisps of smoke. He tried to chase them, knowing they belonged to Maggie. He was in some sort of deep sleep, he knew that much for certain. A constant throbbing like a heartbeat nagged at his side, but he focused on the sweet sounds of a soft feminine voice close to his ear.
“’Tis done. The arrowhead hit nay major organs nor bones. He has lost much blood and will be weak for at least a fortnight, and he will have to be monitored constantly to ensure he does not develop an infection of the blood or wound site.”
“He will survive?” Flynn heard his brother’s voice and wondered why he was in his dream with Maggie, and why they spoke of blood and wounds.
“I cannot say,” she sighed. Flynn felt a warm, soft hand grazing his ribs, and the touch soothed him, distracting him from his aching side.
Why were they asking if someone would survive? Who was injured? ‘Twas his dream and he wished his brother would leave so he could be alone with the beauty consuming his unconscious.
“When will he awaken?”
“His eyelids have fluttered more than once. I believe he is beginning to awaken. When he does, his pain will be intense, I fear.”
Just as the words were spoken, his eyes burst open in panic, pain searing through him, as if he was on fire. A loud gasp, followed by a low moan, escaped his dry, cracked lips and his throat felt hoarse.
“Flynn! ‘Tis Brennain. You must be still.”
Flynn felt strong hands clamp down on his shoulders to keep him still. “You will tear your stitches.”
He stilled in his struggle, exhaustion and pain consuming him. “Stitches?” he repeated gravelly.
“Flynn…” He heard her sweet voice again, and turned his eyes to her bonny face, wondering at his fortune. Was he still dreaming? Nay, the pain he felt was quite real. “’Tis Maggie, Flynn. You have been injured. Do you remember?”
Licking his lips, he shook his head, never breaking contact with her blue eyes, the same eyes he had chased in his dream. She felt like his only anchor in a sea of confusion and to look away would surely drown him.
“You were shot with an arrow,” Brennain said from beside him, but Flynn kept his gaze on Maggie. Her blonde hair was plaited and draped over one shoulder, but small unruly wisps floated around her perfect heart-shaped face. The dark blue dress she wore made her eyes glow brighter and he could see the fire behind her silhouetting her body. He was certain a goddess stood vigil over him.
“Brennain brought you here and fetched me immediately to your side. I have removed the arrow, Flynn but you have lost too much blood. I had to increase the puncture wound to retrieve the arrow tip. You have a few stitches and you must be mindful not to rip them open.”
His hand floated over to the site of his pain and he winced when his fingers touched the tender flesh. Even though his lower torso was bound tightly with linen, his wound was too raw to bear the slightest touch.
“Careful, now,” Maggie’s soft voice admonished, and she gripped his hand before he could do further damage. “You are still groggy from the poppy juice. Mayhap you should rest more.”
He wanted to resist the urge to close his heavy eyelids. He wanted to gaze upon her bonny face some more. In the end, his mind and body won the battle, forcing him into an unwilling sleep.
* * * *
A tickle so sharp it made his eyes water tugged at the back of his throat. Even in his hazy state, he recognized the danger of coughing with the stitches. He braced his side as the rough cough came up his throat and jolted his body. Flynn grimaced and cursed the illness that still plagued him.
“I have tea. ‘Twill soothe your throat.”
Opening his eyes, he saw Maggie standing over him again as she had before, only this time she held a mug of hot liquid in her outstretched hands, steam rising into the air.
“How long…” He could not finish the words before another cough wracked his body and he grimaced.
With a concerned frown, Maggie gently sat beside him on the edge of the bed, bringing the mug up to his lips. “Hush now, Flynn. Drink this.”
He did as she bade, feeling the warm liquid slide down his scratchy throat, the sweetness of honey on his tongue. “Were you asking how long you have been out?”
Looking up at her as he took another sip, he nodded, thankful she understood his question without him having to speak further.
“’Tis been several hours. It is now mid-day. Brennain went out to chop more wood. I also have a rabbit stew in the cauldron. Brennain caught it this morn. ‘Tis a fine hideout you men have found. It has dried herbs for food and all that I need to prepare a meal. There is a wild kitchen garden just around the side. I was able to harvest some carrots. We shall eat well, at least.”
She smiled as he took another sip. “My thanks,” he croaked. He wanted to say something more, but he was quite weak and still trying to figure out what all of this meant for his mission. Guilt, shame, and defeat consumed him. He had failed his king. Mal and his men were close. Now that the haze of poppy juice had worn off, he could remember every detail of that day. He had been aching and coughing, which no doubt alerted a warrior hiding in the trees to their whereabouts. He and his brother had not seen him at all, nor suspected the attack. It was humbling to admit he had erred, but it still did not change the fact that they had a mission to accomplish.
A loud pounding at the door made his body tense, but then he recognized the five-knock pattern of his brother. Maggie got up swiftly to open the door and Brennain walked through with a pile of logs stacked in his muscled arms. Brennain’s green eyes locked on Flynn’s and a wide smile spread across his face when he saw that his brother was awake.
“How do you fare, brother?” Brennain walked over to the back of the house, added the logs to the already well-stocked stack of wood, and wiped his hands on his now-filthy beige trousers.
Focusing on the pulsing pain coming from his side, Flynn knew he had much more healing to do, but he could see the concern in his brother’s eyes. “I will survive,” Flynn responded, and grimaced as he tried to shift his weight into a more comfortable position. “As soon as I am able to travel, we will finish our mission.”
Brennain crinkled his brow and stepped closer. Maggie tittered nervously and got up from the bed swiftly, leaving a trail of rose and lavender in her wake. Flynn’s eye shifted to her briefly and he knew she was nervous, being so far away from home and alone with two men.
“About our mission…” Brennain sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Our king forbade me to allow you to accompany me.” He cringed as the words left his lips, and Flynn knew they pained him very much to speak.
“I do not understand. I am forbidden… to accompany you? Were you not to accompany me? ‘Twas my mission to begin with.” His ire rose as the consequences of his injury slammed down on him like an avalanche of boulders, squeezing the air from his lungs. So much of his life had been given to this task and he had finally been given the opportunity to do something that matters, and he ruined it by getting himself injured. The mission still needed to be completed and his king knew he was unable to complete the task. Failure gnawed at his gut, making him wish to tear his hair out.
“I shall be well enough to travel in a matter of days—”
“Nay.” Maggie came forward and shook her head. “’Twill take a fortnight at the very least, Flynn. You are unwell…”
Anger unlike anything he had ever felt in his entire life flooded his veins. He was not a man prone to temper outbursts, in fact he was hard-pressed to think of a time when he had truly lost his temper at all. Calm, quiet, and calculated—those were the qualities that made him blasted good at what he did. His missions were all he had and now he had lost the most important of them all. After over a year of journeying into the woods, tracking down Mac Rochride, and reporting back to his king, he had finally received the mission he had longed to accomplish. He was made for this, to infiltrate their ranks and gather information. He could not stay here to rot while his brother completed his task.
Before he could control his outburst and convince himself to stay calm, he found frustration seeping out of his every pore, manifesting itself into words he knew he would immediately regret. “Stay out of this, Maggie! ‘Tis none of your concern!” he roared, causing the wee lass to shake and retreat into the corner. Fear laced her features as her face grew pale.
“Do not speak to her that way! You would be a dead man if not for her!” Brennain bellowed in admonishment.
Flynn deserved it, aye, but he had more anger to spill before he could calm his nerves. “You have grown fond of her, I see,” Flynn snarled, feeling envy eat away at his gut. It cut deeper than the wound at his side. Jealousy was a foreign emotion to him. Maggie’s praise for Brennain repeated in his mind. She said Brennain had been cutting logs. Brennain had caught the rabbit for the stew. What else had Brennain done to impress his Maggie while Flynn lay like an invalid on this foul, itchy straw mattress? Being helpless did not sit well with Flynn and now he was taking it all out on the only two people he had in this world. He knew he needed to calm himself.
Looking over at Maggie, he saw her back was turned to him as she slowly stirred the cauldron with a large wooden spoon. Her body trembled slightly and he cursed himself a bastard. “Och, I am sorry, Maggie.” His throat still burned, but if he had been able to use words to release his anger, he could use them to apologize. She flinched when he spoke her name and he ran a frustrated hand through his tangled black hair.
“Aye. I have grown fond of her, Flynn. She came to you without a thought for herself. She saved your life. I will defend her against you and your pride any cursed day,” his brother groused, crossing his arms over his chest.
With a calming deep breath, Flynn tore his gaze away from Maggie’s back and focused on the one person who would at least still speak to him. “I am not used to feeling worthless. I suppose my disappointment at my failure mixed with my pride caused me to shout out of turn. I am sorry, brother.”
Brennain raised his brow in apparent shock. Flynn almost never had reason to apologize for aught, but he never hesitated to do so, when necessary. Why did his brother look so surprised?
“As I was saying,” Brennain continued as if the outburst never happened, and Flynn was thankful for it. “Our King bade me go alone. You know you cannot go, Flynn. Aye, you did much of the work on this and I am sorry to have to go without you, but it must be done.”
Flynn held up his hand weakly in defeat and nodded. “Aye, I know. I do not like it but I understand.”
“I am sorry, Flynn. I do not wish to go without you, but I have nay choice. Maggie will be here with you.” Then Brennain turned to look at Maggie. “You will be all right here until I can return, lass? I shall try to check in, but I do not know how far his camp is from here or how much freedom I shall have.”
Flynn looked over at Maggie and saw her spine stiffen. Still, she refused to turn to look at him or his brother. Asking her to stay away from her life for at least a fortnight was asking much of the lass. He would not be able to take her home for a long while and he would need to stay here in case Brennain reported back or needed help. She was as good as trapped, and that made Flynn feel even worse for shouting at her.
“Maggie, I am sorry you are in this position,” Flynn added softly. “I have made a mess of everything.”
Finally turning, she wrung her hands together nervously in front of her. “I will be quite all right. Do as our king commands. I will take care of Flynn.” She spoke directly to Brennain without even acknowledging him and that made his heart ache in a way he had never expected. He rubbed his chest to try to soothe the sudden squeezing pain. Maggie affected him more than he suspected and that thought scared him. He could not afford to grow attached to the lass, yet he found he already was. How could he spend a fortnight in her company and not completely fall in love with her? He looked from her to Brennain. Had Brennain fallen in love with her as well? That ache in his heart persisted at the thought.
Flynn shook his head, determined to keep his thoughts straight and logical. It was just as well she ignored him. Though he found the lass incredibly attractive, he knew little about her aside from the evidence of her being more frightened than a mouse being chased by a cat. He had no time to get involved with a lass such as her. She was clearly innocent in the ways of men, and anything beyond the basic fulfillment of pleasure was more than he could promise to any lass. When he was fully healed, he had every intention of joining his brother to finish their mission.
Brennain bowed his head to her, then turned back to Flynn, shooting him a look with his narrowed gaze. It was a clear warning to behave where Maggie was concerned. His brother need not speak to communicate clearly. He also was a fool for believing Flynn needed any warnings. He had lost his temper, aye, but it was rare and he knew he would not do so again.
“I will enjoy some stew and pack up a few supplies, then I must be on my way. I pray the gods give you a full recovery, brother. I am glad you are as well as you are. We have Maggie to thank for that.” Both brothers shifted their gaze to Maggie, who looked at them with wide eyes, as if unsure why they would have need to thank her. She had no idea what a giving, selfless lass she truly was. Very few people would have willingly given up all she had to come so far to help one man.
“I will check in if I can. If I cannot, then I will see you when I see you.”
“Be careful, Brennain. Remember what the man in the woods said. He knew we had been on Mal’s trail. Mal planted men all around his camp because he knows Tuathal is sending scouts. If there were other men in the trees, they may have seen your face.”
Brennain nodded in understanding. “I do not believe there were. I killed the man who took you down and nay men came to his aid. In fact, there is a better chance that they know your face more than my own.”
With a raised brow, Flynn said, “You look just like me.”
“Nay, wee brother. You look just like me. I am your elder, and do not forget it.” Brennain winked, and Flynn knew his brother was taking his opportunity to get a rise from Flynn while he was unable to do aught about it.
“Then you had better hope nobody knows my face, elder brother. Be safe,” he urged. Brennain’s smile slid off his face as he grew serious once more. With a nod, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword before he walked over to the cauldron to partake of Maggie’s stew.
Flynn still felt bitter that he had to stay behind, but his side was aching terribly and he gritted his teeth against the pain. It was going to be a very painful, and interesting, fortnight alone here with Maggie. He would feel like a fool having her take care of his needs. Flynn had always taken care of himself, despite their mother’s constant doting. He was not a lad to stand by while others cared for him. Aye, it would be a struggle, but at least he had Maggie’s bonny face to look upon in the meantime.
* * * *
What mess had she gotten herself into? She was completely alone in the middle of the woods with Flynn Mac Greine and she had no idea when she would ever make it home again. His outburst had frightened her more than she wished to admit. Even a man as calm as Flynn was able to lose his temper, but when his temper had flared toward her, her instinct had been to flee. She had not even been alone with him yet and he was already shouting at her the way Papa had shouted at Mama. Papa had always apologized for it afterward, but it always happened again.
She knew Flynn felt awful for shouting at her and she wanted to believe that he had good reasons to be angry. She had no idea what he and Brennain spoke of when they discussed their mission or the king’s orders, but it was clearly important to Flynn and he was rightfully upset to lose his chance. That rational thought made her calm down somewhat. He was only a man, capable of anger and disappointment, much like any human. He was injured, bound to a bed, removed from his important mission, and stuck in this dank hut with a lass as plain and most likely as boring as any he had encountered. He was most likely wishing he was stuck with a lass who was bonnier or would take care of his other needs, not simply his wounds.
Och, she knew the ways of the world. Just as Elwynna had been used to satisfy the needs of men, few men would hesitate to take what they wanted when they wanted. While Flynn was incapable of moving, she was safe. But what would happen once he could get out of bed and she was still stuck in this hut with him? Would he keep his boundaries, or would he try to force himself on her? She had never heard a foul word against Flynn in all the time she had been living in Ráth Mór. Still, no woman had ever been stuck in a hut with him for so long. Who knew what he would do?
Breathe, Maggie. She needed to stop torturing herself with the worst possibilities. She hated being so cursed afraid all the time, but she refused to become another victim to any man. Somehow, in a very short time, she had begun to trust Brennain. He had vowed never to hurt her, and he had been quite calm and gentle. He also vowed Flynn would not hurt her, but within moments of being awake, he had lashed out at her. If he had not been bedridden, would he have struck her? She was uncertain. How she wished Brennain had not left. He had quickly become the only other man, besides Àdhamh, whom she could trust.
Thinking of her brother made her heart drop and she had to hold back her tears. She had left without a word to him. She knew she had had no time to locate him and explain why she had to go. She also knew Àdhamh would have tried to make her stay. He protected her fiercely and while she appreciated his constant concern for her, she was a woman: full grown and capable of her own decisions. Looking around the quiet hut, she wondered if her decision to come here had been a bad one. Àdhamh would never find her out here, even if he attempted to. She was trapped here until Brennain could return.
A few hours had passed since he left, taking half the stew with him for his journey. She did not mind. He had caught the rabbit himself and would need the food, considering he had not a clue how long his journey would be. Before he left, Brennain showed Maggie how to use the nets to catch small game and walked her toward a stream that ran just east of the hut. She had access to fresh water, buckets, nets, a small garden of vegetables that were hearty enough to last a fortnight or longer, and enough wood to burn. They would be warm and fed, and Maggie felt an unusual sense of pride knowing she would be the one to gather all the food, build the fires and run the home.
During their walk, she had spotted many berries and herbs she could not wait to get her hands on. Bilberries were everywhere in Ériu at this time of year and not only were they hearty, they were said to be one of the healthiest foods a person could eat. Though it was a bit late in the season and most berries in her village would have been collected, out here in the wilderness, she had all the berries to herself. She could pick wild herbs and mayhap discover new plants.
Her spirits lifted slightly. She had been just telling herself how very badly she wished to get out to see the world. This could be her chance. After all, Flynn did not require her constant attention and would most likely appreciate having her out and about most of the days, allowing him to rest or simply be away from her constant presence.
“Maggie?” Flynn’s voice floated over to her from the bed. He sounded weak and slightly hesitant, which made her frown. How could a man as strong and handsome as Flynn possibly be hesitant about anything?
“Aye?” She looked up and turned away from the fire she had been mindlessly staring into for the past several hours while he slept.
“I… need to…” His voice trailed off before she heard the rest of his muffled sentence.
Furrowing her brow, she stood up and slowly walked over to him, making sure to stay out of reaching distance in case he tried to grab her. She was being ridiculous, she knew, but she had grown up always being vigilant. “What do you need, Flynn?”
“I need to piss.”
Och. She had not given any thought to this part of caring for him. Looking around the room, she found a bronze pot and swiftly moved to grab it. “Here.” She thrust the pot into his hands and turned away.
“I cannot piss lying down,” he murmured.
“Right,” she agreed hesitantly. Walking back toward him, she looked down at him and sighed. “I can help you sit up but ‘twill hurt you terribly.”
“I hurt terribly now. And holding my piss for the past three hours has not helped.” He sounded irritated and she wanted to scowl at him, but kept her face neutral.
“I never asked you to hold your… piss,” she said, and cleared her throat.
“You are too afraid to come near me, and I did not wish to aggrieve you,” he countered. “I shall not hurt you, Maggie. I would never hurt or force a lass. Is this what you fear?” Hurt flashed in his eyes. It was the same look she had seen on Brennain’s face. These men did not like their honor being questioned. She supposed that was a fine trait in a man, but honor also caused men to do things in the name of pride. Once pride and honor were damaged, men could lose their temper, she knew.
Suddenly, Maggie felt weary of her fears constantly controlling every move she made. In that moment, she made a vow to herself. No more being afraid of her own shadow. She would not allow her fears to control her any longer. What sort of a life was she living when she was too afraid to even speak? And if Flynn dared to hurt her, she would make certain his brother heard about it upon his return. “Nay, I am not afraid of you.” She forced the words to sound as confident and calm as she could.
“Then please help me,” he said, so desperately that any real fear left her immediately and was replaced by pity and a bit of shame. He was a vulnerable man right now and had not done anything to make her fear him, aside from his one show of anger. He needed her help and she would give it.
Walking over to Flynn, she gently lifted him to a sitting position. He hollered at the pain but there was no way of sitting him up without having to use the injured part of his side. “This will not work, Flynn. Your wound is much too new. We will do this another way.”
“’Tis embarrassing,” he groaned as he plopped down. “Asking a bonny lass to help me piss is quite humbling.”
She paused. He thought her bonny? How could such a handsome, strong, and brave man have ever even noticed she existed? She supposed he had to notice now that they were alone, but to think her bonny was quite a shock. She hid her flush as best she could while she thought of another way to help him with his delicate situation. In all her years healing injured men, never had she been their sole caretaker, having to worry about details such as helping them relieve themselves, nor did she know how to help him now. Just the thought of… that part of him, made her feel an unfamiliar mix of uncertainty and curiosity. What does his look like? She had seen a few in her life, even if she did not wish to. Did she wish to see his? The tingle rolling down her body told her that she did, even if it was shameful to think about Flynn in that manner while he was in her care.
“Maggie?” His questioning voice pulled her thoughts back to the present.
“If you roll over onto your uninjured side, I can hold the pot while you… handle the rest.”
He nodded, deciding it was the best option and rolled onto his side away from her. This meant she would have to lean over his body, which was precisely what she did not want to have to do. Bracing herself with one hand against the cold wall, she positioned the pot beside him. He pulled the thick fur away from his body and began to fumble with the tie on his trousers, cursing under his breath as his clumsy hands shook.
After what felt like an eternity, Flynn growled with frustration. “The string is tangled,” he murmured.
Maggie looked down to see that he was having a very hard time getting the string from his trousers undone. She almost offered to help, but caught herself just before the words came out. She pursed her lips and crinkled her brow when her gaze caught his. Flynn’s eyelids slid shut and he turned away. “I need help,” he whispered.
Pity for the man filled Maggie. He was a strong warrior and obviously one of the king’s finest to be constantly sent on important missions. For him to be injured and dependent on a lass to untie his trousers so he could relieve himself must be humiliating, and she loathed to add any more discomfort for him.
Silently, Maggie placed the pot down beside him and leaned closer, using her nails to dig into the frayed woolen string of his trousers. He really ought to have these repaired, but that was none of her concern, except that it was now her task to untangle it.
Aside from the popping of the hearth behind her, the entire room was silent as she frantically worked at the knot. The muscles on his bare chest bunched and strained as her hands worked. She tried to concentrate but she was so distracted by his masculine scent and the beauty of him that she had to swallow more than once.
Flynn stayed stiff as a wooden board and averted his eyes when she finally got the last of the knot out and his trousers slackened. The trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen continued below his waistline and she wondered about what else was beneath his trousers, before scolding herself for allowing her mind to wander once more. It was improper to stare at his body, especially that part of him she could see bulging just beneath the fabric of his trousers. She tried not to notice, but it was at eye level as she tugged on the string and it was just so… large. Having spent her entire life avoiding men and therefore, all parts of them, she was flustered at being so close to his male parts. Aye, as a healer she had been close to many men, but never so close to their nether regions where she could see its outline up close, or felt that pulse of excitement in her own body at the thought of seeing more. She tried to focus on her breathing and knew her chest heaved more than normal. She hoped Flynn would not notice her sudden flush or flustered movements.
Finally tearing her gaze away, she looked at his face and gasped at the intensity staring back at her. His green eyes were hooded by heavy lids and he seemed to be memorizing her every feature, just as she did the same. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen and though it seemed ridiculous for such a large, masculine man to be beautiful, he truly was. Many in his family had bright green eyes, but none more vibrant than Flynn’s, or mayhap that was simply her unnerving attraction to him exaggerating their beauty. His tan skin and black hair gave him a dark, mysterious edge that only drew her in more. He was, without a doubt, the most well-made man she had ever met. Still, she knew nothing about him or his mysterious missions, or what he was capable of.
That thought brought her spiraling back down to reality. She was much too close and though he was injured, she would be wise to keep her guard up, especially with the way he was looking at her. “’Tis done,” she whispered, and leaned over once more to grab the pot. “Are you… ready?”
Flynn shot up from the bed, standing abruptly and using the wall for balance as his free hand held his trousers around his waist. Maggie gasped and backed away, unsure of what he was doing. He groaned and pushed off the wall, swerving slightly but holding his ground. He turned and stepped toward her with a look in his eyes that was nothing less than pure determination. She wanted to run, but her feet betrayed her and refused to move. Dazed with fear, Maggie’s eyes widened as he took another step toward her. He was large, half-naked with his trousers only loosely held in one hand, and obviously powerful enough to ignore the pain of such a terrible wound. As he came closer, his large frame towering above her, she flinched and closed her eyes, awaiting his punishment for whatever she had done wrong. Had she taken too long to undo his string? Her papa would have punished her mama for much less.
When no strike came, she opened her eyes slowly and looked back up at him hesitantly. His brow dropped and a frown pulled at his lips. Putting out one hand, he gestured at the bronze pot she was clutching with white-knuckled intensity in front of her body. “The pot,” he growled, just before yanking it out of her hands with force. She screeched and backed up a step. He was going to use the pot to beat her and even when injured, she knew he was much stronger than she was. Why could she not move, or run? What sort of survival instincts had she learned in all these years if the best she could do in the face of an aggressive man was to stare and stand still?
“Leave, Maggie. Make sure Arawn has food and water… please,” he forced and winced. Aye, he was in great pain, yet for some reason he was out of bed, ordering her to feed someone named Arawn? Who was Arawn and why was Flynn demanding she leave? “My horse,” he clarified through clenched teeth.
She was so frightened by his sudden show of aggression that she did not wait even a moment longer to run for the door, away from him. He confused her more than any man ever had in her life. One moment he was kind and gentle, and she was certain she could trust him. The next moment he was jumping out of bed and storming toward her, demanding she leave. Mayhap he had a fever and was temporarily mad? Maggie had noticed sweat beading on his brow as he tore the pot from her hands. She would check later. For now, her heart beat so fast, she could hardly breathe. She wanted to run far away from Flynn Mac Greine, but knew she was trapped in the middle of nowhere until Brennain came back for them… until then, she would have to be brave, tend Flynn’s wound, and avoid him as much as possible.