WAKING UP
Camden was drifting in a haze of softness. He was warm and he felt sleepy. He opened his eyes and blinked. They focused on a face.
Rubina?
He smiled. Memory came back to him of a struggle in the forest. Of men holding him down and burning his leg with iron, trying to find out information. The layout of the land. The number of troops in the castle. The strategic positions. He shivered. The memory started in silence and ended in pain and darkness.
Maybe I am dead. How else is it that I am safe and warm and my dearest love is by my bedside?
Perhaps some caring angel had taken mercy on him and chosen to bless him with the one thing that would make him feel truly that he was in paradise: Rubina by his bedside, with that gentle smile, holding his hand. Saying his name.
“Camden.”
He smiled, feeling the crooked smile lift one side of his mouth. He saw her eyes light.
“Rubina.”
She smiled again, and her eyes glowed softly with the luminescence of tears. “Camden!” she said. “Do you feel better?”
He frowned. Tested his leg by twitching his toes. The tug on the burned skin made him hiss in agony.
“Not entirely,” he said. Then he frowned again. “Am I here?” he asked.
Rubina smiled at him. “Here?”
“I cannot say how pleased I am that you are here. My heaven would not be complete without you.”
Rubina's smile grew radiant. He was horrified to see a tear streak down her face. “Camden...” she began, and then sniffed, unable to say more.
“Oh, my dear,” he said, reaching up a hand to stroke that pale cheek. She didn't flinch, but let him touch her. He felt his heart fill with light. “My dear,” he said gently. “I am not sad if I have died. My only sorrow is that you must be air and mist, not really here. For you are not also dead, I think?”
Rubina blinked again, and then laughed.
“Camden! My dear. You are not dead. I'm sure when the syrup of poppy wears off you'll know that well enough. You're here. In the castle. With me.”
He frowned in confusion. “In the castle? How? When?”
“We found you,” Rubina said, her face darkening with some unhappy memory. “They had you. They hurt you. We finished them.”
Camden blinked. “The English. In the woods. You found them? How could you? How did you know?”
Rubina bit her lip. “Thank Heaven we found out about them when we did. You could have died.”
She looked down at her hands and Camden felt a flare of warmth in his chest. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that Rubina would care whether he lived or died. He had truly thought she hated him!
“My dear?”
“Yes?” she said, looking up. He could see, now, the gray rings around her eyes, the only indication of weariness on that soft, pale face.
“You...you are here with me. Holding my hand. Mourning me. You...” he hesitated, feeling silly. How could he ask her that?
“Camden!” she said. She sounded angry. He flinched. “How can you think I would do aught else? You dear, silly, wonderful man.” She lifted his hand and pressed it to her lips. “I love you.”
Camden stared at her. It felt as if something warm and melting had settled in the middle of his chest, thawing his heart and making it grow, and spread and glow. He laughed.
“Rubina!” he said, as the joy flowed through him. “I love you, too.”
She stared at him. Then, to his utter surprise, she laughed. She held his hand and tears flowed down her cheeks as she laughed, sobbed, and laughed again.
“Oh, you dear silly man. I love you, too. I love you so much. We are so silly, aren't we? Forgive me?”
He frowned and then, suddenly, he was laughing too. “You mean...Oh, Rubina! I thought you hated me. That I couldn't possibly earn your love. That you were afraid.”
Rubina smiled down at him, a sweet, soft smile that glowed with light. The same light, it seemed, that had taken up residence in his chest.
“You silly man,” she said. “Silly me! We have been so foolish. So blind.”
“I loved you the moment I saw you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I never stopped. I just thought you hated me.”
“And I felt the same! Oh, Camden. Can you believe what fools we've been?”
“Yes,” Camden grinned. “I can. I think we are not the only such. People believe in many things but somehow they don't want to believe that they're loved.”
Rubina nodded, slowly. “You are right, my dear. You are right.”
“Well, then,” he said. He lifted her pale, soft hand to his lips. It was scented with roses and the skin was warm under his lips. He could have spent a lifetime kissing it. He looked up at her, reluctantly removing his lips from the back of her hand. “Well? Do you reckon we could promise something?”
“I reckon. What will we promise?” Rubina asked, stroking pale hair out of her eye to see him clearer.
“We will promise that from this day hence, we will know one truth. That I love you, and you love me. We will promise never to doubt it again.”
“Yes!” Rubina smiled ecstatically and squeezed his hand. “No matter how cross I sometimes get.”
“And no matter how confused I am.”
“Yes!” Rubina chuckled. “I promise.”
“And I promise too.”
When they sat back and looked at each other, it felt different. Solemn. As if they had taken a vow, just then. It was a vow. One more personal than those they took all those days before. It was their vow to each other.
Camden let out a long sigh.
“Well, then,” he said.
“Well, then.”
He looked into her eyes. Ringed with gray, weary but tender, her eyes shone with light. He smiled and, very slowly, lifted himself up on the pillows.
“I would kiss you,” he said gently. “But I'm not sure if I'll break if I try and sit up.” His head was throbbing and just the small motion had brought a stab of pain to his leg.
She laughed. “I assure you that you won't,” she said. “You'll mend properly. But all the same, it seems that I must come to you.”
She bent down then and, to his utter wonderment, her lips grazed his. They pressed together and he gently let his tongue glide across the line between their plump warmth. Then, when she sat back, there was a new sheen in her eyes.
“Get well, Sir Camden,” she said. “I declare I need you well before the week's out.”
Camden stared at her and let out a peal of laughter. “I cannot promise that, milady,” he said. “But I can pledge to try.”
“Good,” she said. “I will do all I can to help in that endeavor.”
They both laughed. It was a contented laugh, warm and soft.
After a moment, Rubina stood and went to the door. “Barra?” she called.
“Yes, milady?”
“Will you go to the kitchen, please? And fetch a bowl of broth. And some bannocks? My lord is awake.”
“Yes, milady!” the woman's voice sounded relieved and happy.
“Oh, and Barra?”
“Yes?”
“Bring enough for two, please. I find I have quite an appetite this morning.”
“Yes, milady.”
Camden and Rubina sat and broke their fast together. It was a slow, sweet, contented time.
“Camden?” Rubina asked. She was sitting beside the bed, crumbs from a bannock clinging to that full, dark red lip.
Camden smiled and resisted the urge to reach out and wipe them off. She looked so sweet. He couldn't suppress the grin, however.
“What?” she said.”
“You have some crumbs stuck on your lip,” he said with a soft smile. She laughed.
Gently, he reached forward and wiped them away. She kissed his fingertips. His whole body tensed.
“Milady,” he said guardedly.
“Yes?”
“I'm afraid to say that I might have to break a rule here.”
“Oh?” she looked cautious.
“I'm sure there are rules about conduct in the infirmary. But your closeness is making me want to break every one of them.”
She stared at him. Then she laughed.
“Sir Camden,” she said, setting aside her plate and leaning forward. “I think that I should insist on rest. But you make it very difficult for me to demand rest from you.”
She leaned forward and their lips met. He had finished his gruel and she slowly and deliberately set aside the tray. He found himself held against her chest, her arms around him, looking into her brown eyes.
“Camden McInvering,” she said, softly and deliberately. “You will simply have to get well.”
Camden laughed. “I will do my best, my lady.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It is, my lady. To the best of my powers.”
She smiled at him. “Good.”
He felt the need to sleep overwhelm him. He was aroused by her presence but it seemed his body had not the energy to act on his impulses, or at least, not yet. With her arms around him he felt his eyelids droop and, his hand on her waist, his other hand in hers, he felt himself drifting into sleep.
He would, he thought just before he slipped into deep sleep, simply have to get well. There were too many reasons why. He couldn't live without her.