SHELTER
They rode through the night. Chrissie was exhausted, cold, and terrified. She fell asleep once, only to be woken again as they rode over rougher terrain. They rode slowly, as Heath had suggested they do. She came slowly to awareness, listening to their voices as they rode. The night around was silent and it took a little time for her to become alert, taking meaning from their words. They appeared to be arguing.
“...we should not go straight there,” Blaine was saying. “We should ride to Dunmacreidh. Closer.”
“...and seek hospitality there? We know nothing about them. Besides, that's ten miles east. Too long.”
“Not to stop is stupid,” Blaine said bluntly. “Riding in this cold and rain? A person could catch their death. I won't have it.”
“You scared?”
They stopped moving. Chrissie heard a ragged breath and winced, fearing someone's attack.
“How can you be so thoughtless? I'm thinking of her.”
Chrissie swallowed hard. Blaine had said he was thinking of her. That surprised her. He really cared about her? She always thought he was just being difficult.
Behind her, Heath let out a ragged breath. “Well,” he sighed. “I am at fault. I admit it. You are right and we should stop for the night. I suggest we stop somewhere closer. We could find woodsmen, perhaps, or cottagers. Or free-farmers. That way we will not have so far to ride back to rejoin our road. Safer and easier for tomorrow.”
The tension drained and Chrissie felt herself suddenly weak with relief. She slipped forward and Heath tightened his grip on her fiercely.
“You are right,” Blaine agreed, reaching out to steady her. “We can stop somewhere closer to the roadway. Safer.”
Heath sighed. “I think there are some woodsman’s cottages nearby. We could ask for a roof and stables for the horses.
“Yes.”
They rode on and the rain fell lighter, a soft drizzle that soaked through Chrissie's gown and made her shake. She was so cold. She had never been so cold. She wished she was dead. She felt her mind waver, her consciousness retracting from her. She stopped shaking and started falling forward.
Blaine caught her as she slipped sideways. He rode in beside them and leaned on her, supporting and steadying her as Heath held her against him.
“Hello?”
Heath shouted it and soon Chrissie understood why. They had reached a settlement – or at least, a cluster of houses where, in one, a fire burned. They could see the glow through a window and smell the slow-burning wood.
“Charcoal-makers,” Blaine explained. Chrissie breathed in, coughing.
“We will ask for shelter here.”
Heath held her while Blaine made inquiries. They found a man who said he had room for them. He also had a stable which would – just – accommodate their horses.
“One of ye can sleep in there,” he added, jerking his head at the stables, where the horses seemed relieved to go. Chrissie leaned on Heath, too exhausted to stand on her own two feet.
“I'll go,” Blaine offered. He glanced meaningfully at Chrissie. “Please, take her inside directly, sir.”
Chrissie blinked at his courtesy and, evidently, the charcoal-maker was baffled. He bowed, blinked, and bobbed his head, touching Heath on the arm.
“This way, milord.”
Blaine stayed behind at the stable and Heath led her carefully away. Chrissie turned, feeling worried...Blaine might freeze to death out there alone! She looked straight into his stare; he was looking after them with his face shaped with such a look of longing that it tore at Chrissie.
“Blaine...” she whispered.
Heath seemed not to hear her, but he squeezed her wrist a little tighter, guiding her carefully along. “We'll soon have you inside. You need warmth. Blaine was right. What was I thinking? You're almost frozen stiff.”
He led her in, making solicitous noises, and talking quietly to the cottager, who disappeared outside with a pail, apparently to heat water over the fire. Heath and Chrissie were alone together.
Heath settled Chrissie by the fire. The warmth ate into the core of her and Chrissie thought she might cry with relief. She thought of Blaine and wished he could be here. Wished he could also be getting warm.
“Blaine is safe out there,” Heath said gently. “He prefers it, I think. To being in here with us,” he added meaningfully. He patted her hand. “You should sleep.”
As Chrissie stretched out by the fire, lying on the straw matting there before it, she started to doze almost immediately. Thoughts of Blaine swam before her mind's eye. She remembered that look of longing on his face and felt the jolt of longing she, too, had felt when he was close.
As Heath settled down across from her, his head beside hers on the straw, body facing the other way, she suddenly realized what Heath had meant.
It was easier for Blaine to sleep away from her. If he had been here, he would not have been decorous. Not like Heath.
She could not help a brief stab of utter amazement at that thought. Blaine was attracted to her. Heath was...caring, attentive, mannerly. He also did not arouse in her the same wonder Blaine did. She had, perhaps, the beginnings of the knowledge she had wanted to begin seeking.
She fell asleep to the sound of Heath's breath and woke next morning to the wan gray morning and the scent of smoke and, somewhere, someone singing.
Blaine appeared, seeming wide awake. He had with him a hard loaf.
“Morning to you,” he said, smiling at her warmly. Chrissie stared in alarm, realizing that she looked terrible: her hair was a mess, her face dirty, and her dress all crumpled. She wanted to tell him to go away, at least until she was decently cleaner, but the sight of the bread caught her stomach and made her mouth water with wanting. She recalled she had eaten almost nothing the previous day and her stomach ached for needing some food.
“Blaine,” she said, cautiously. “We have...something for breakfast there?”
“Indeed, milady.” He chuckled. “We have bread and, somewhere, some hard cheese. At least, I think we do. I pray I didn't eat it on the ride yesterday.” He frowned in consternation and she giggled. “It was all in my saddlebags, so it should still be there unless I finished it.”
“Thank you,” Chrissie said fervently. “How wonderful that you thought to bring something along.”
“Always have something with you, my lady. First rule of battle.”
Heath laughed. “Well, it's close enough, anyhow.” He half-closed his eyes, lean features showing amusement. “Thank you for the provisions,” he added lightly. “Breakfast, my lady.”
“I'm hungry.”
They all laughed. The cottager had appeared cautiously. Chrissie guessed he had been hiding lest they asked him for provisions and she understood his inclination, there was little enough in his cottage, doubtless, to last him for long alone. They could eat all his supplies without really noticing it.
“We should give him something,” Chrissie said, accepting a slice of dark brown bread from Blaine. He nodded and she chewed it slowly, her jaw working. It was hard, but the wheaten taste was heavenly. She closed her eyes, sure she had never eaten such wondrous meals.
“We should,” Blaine agreed.
“I have some coin in my saddle-pouch,” Heath nodded. “Second rule of battle: never go anywhere without cash.”
Blaine roared with mirth and Heath smiled shyly. Chrissie giggled at their joke and accepted a small piece of hardened cheese.
It was wildly salted and she chewed it slowly, wincing as she swallowed and it burned her throat, bracing herself for the churning ache it would probably cause once she had swallowed it. Heath saw her expression and found her a stoup of water, which she drank gratefully. She sopped the bread in the water, glad it made it easier to chew.
At length, they were on their way. Heath paid the cottager, who looked at the coin as if it burned his hands, staring at Heath wildly. Heath grinned.
“Thank you!” he shouted, and set off at a brisk pace, waving at the man who waved wildly at them from the safe threshold of his tiny cottage in the middle of the woodlands.
Chrissie felt better after the breakfast. She sat forward, taking some of her weight off Heath, who loosened his grip slightly and let her do it. So thoughtful, she sighed. Heath was a perfect gentleman.
“We should reach home mid-day.”
“Yes,” Heath agreed with Blaine, riding a little to the right so that they drew close alongside one another. “I will be glad to get there.”
They all laughed at that. Their spirits were lighter as they rode. Today was not as cold as the previous day and the rain had lifted, letting a golden-bright sun burn through the mists.
By midday, they could make out the shape of Lochlann on the distant slopes. Chrissie felt her heart soar. Home! Her back ached. Her buttocks ached. Her arms, head, fingers, toes, sides, hips, and feet ached.
“Home,” Heath echoed. “Another twenty minutes or so and we can all get warm.”
“Hurrah!” Blaine shouted.
Everyone laughed. They rode slowly onward and as Heath had said, near enough to twenty minutes later they rode, exhausted and frozen, to the castle gates.
“Open up, Hamish!”
Blaine's voice was instantly recognizable, as was likely enough his face, even if it was a little grimed, and the men on gate-duty opened the gates with a level of haste reserved for their head officer. Chrissie grinned, knowing that they never snapped to attention like that for her. She liked it.
She smiled at Blaine, enjoying the instant response she got when with him and he blushed.
The memory of that expression remained with her.
Upstairs, Ambeal shrieked an expletive, and then ran to her, sighing her name. “Chrissie. Oh, Chrissie. My dear. What have they done to you?”
Chrissie wearily explained that they had to flee, then, holding onto the door frame, requested a bath be drawn before she collapsed.
She woke again in heaven's own bathwater. Warm, soapy, and soft, it flowed over her as Ambeal's voice carried over from somewhere in the bedchamber nearby to her.
“...and I don't ken what they were thinkin'!” She was saying angrily. “Outdoors all night, and nothin' but a dress on. My poor Chrissie...”
She heard a clank and guessed Ambeal was stoking the fire. She turned her head, realized her neck was too stiff and raised her voice instead.
“Hello?”
Her words were like a croak, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Ambeal? Hello..?”
Ambeal paused, for she heard her drop the irons on the grate. The wood hissed in the silence, the flames snapping at logs, sending a fierce heat to soak into Chrissie's back.
“Milady!” Ambeal shouted, appearing at her side like a dedicated comrade. “You're not ailing, are you? Should I fetch Father Petros? He could help ye...”
Chrissie laughed. “No, dear. I'm not ailing. I...” she coughed. Then she sneezed.
Ambeal shook her head. “Oh, my lady. We must get you straight to bed...”
Brandishing a towel, she helped Chrissie out of the bath and into her nightgown. Then she helped her into bed, which was warmed with a brick at the end, wrapped in cloth and warmed by the fire. Her feet on the hot brick, her body swathed in warmth, Chrissie slept deeply, probably more deeply than she had in all her remembered years.
She had a cold. She spent the next two days coughing and choking, sneezing and sighing. Her head ached but it was a known ache, not dangerous, not like the dull, painful, all-over ache of the freezing nights.
On the third day, Heath appeared. He paused in the doorway, waiting for Ambeal to let him in.
“Chrissie,” he said, his voice tender.
“Heath!” Chrissie beamed. She was feeling much better – the fever had broken earlier that morning, nursed on by Ambeal, who now stood by the fire warming a bowl of soup for her – and she had longed for some more company.
“My dear Chrissie,” he said. He came to sit by her bedside. “I am so glad you are recovered. I had much less affect myself, I assure you. However, I know how horrible being confined indoors can be. Here,” he said, producing a gaming board. He had a little drawstring bag to match it, out of which he produced counters for playing with.
“Heath?”
“Yes?” he asked, looking into her eyes.
“What of Dunkeld?”
“Well,” he sighed. “The message was given to his lordship of the siege – he was furious, I hear. He sent an exploratory force, but...” he raised a shoulder. “I pray they were successful.” he looked at his hands.
“I pray so.”
Chrissie felt her heart sink. She was almost entirely convinced that her cousins, and their home and family, would come through unscathed, but she could not help but be worried. She had to know what had happened to them.
“You are frightened for them. I know,” Heath said, taking her hand and then gesturing to the game pieces, handsome face open as if regretting that they needed a distraction and offering her one, reluctantly, at once. She nodded, offer accepted.
They set up the board and spent the next hours laughing ruefully at each other’s – and their own – lack of skills at playing at chess. They were both losing horribly – one to one – when someone knocked at the door.
“Heath?”
“Yes?” Heath turned, his long, darkly handsome face moved into a look of mild inquiry.
“His lordship requested your presence.”
“Oh,” Heath sighed. He gave a rueful glance at Chrissie, and took her hand.
“I am well, Heath,” Chrissie smiled agreeably. “I can practice while you are gone. I need it.”
“Well, I look forward to being beaten entirely when I return,” he grinned. “I must go now. I shan't take long, I pray.”
“See you soon, Heath,” Chrissie agreed. Once he had left, she lay back on the pillows, wondering about all that had happened and what she had discovered from it.
Her thoughts were with Dunkeld and her family. She prayed for news. At the same time, she could not help but consider Heath and how she felt about him and Blaine.
I like Heath. I admire him. I think he is the best man I have ever met before: sweet, gallant, thoughtful. I also feel something completely different for Blaine.
She sighed. Blaine...his craggy face appeared before her mind's eye, his expression cheerful. He grinned at her in her thoughts and she felt a tingling happiness. His dark eyes teased her.
I feel completely different. When he is near, I feel alive. Jumpy, it's true. Irritable, even, because of the jumpiness. But completely amazing.
Her heart thumped, thinking of his eyes. Her body tingled, thinking of how his hand had felt, reaching hers. Her abdomen tightened with delicious tension as she recalled his leg pressed to hers.
I like him more than I have ever liked anyone.
She leaned back on the pillows, contemplating that sweet thought. While she was lying there, listening to the quiet sounds of Ambeal preparing luncheon, her mind wandering in a haze of sweet thoughts, smiling at memories, she heard the door open.
“Chrissie?”
“Blaine!”
Her eyes flew open, recognizing the voice. Ambeal rose from the hearth, seeming ready to deny him entrance – he was, after all, no member of the family at all, but a guard – but Chrissie sat up and cleared her throat.
“He may stay,” she opined.
Ambeal sighed and went back to the fire, though she seemed unhappy with that decision. Chrissie caught her watching Blaine very carefully, as if ready to spring on any transgression of propriety and send him marching.
Chrissie bit back a grin. Having him here was very...affecting. She saw his eyes move over her and her heart thumped as they moved across her chest, straying at the neck of her gown where it fastened over her chest. She raised a hand there, carefully, aware that the ties strained a little there, giving a sight of the pale skin of her cleavage.
“Chrissie, my lady,” he said, bowing low. “I...” he cleared his throat, coughed and started again. “I had to come here immediately. As soon as you were well. I have news...” he trailed off, eyes widening as her expression clearly changed.
“Blaine!” she exclaimed. “Thank you. Please, sit. I crave news.”
Blaine nodded and took the seat at the bedside where Heath had sat. Having him here felt completely different. Her heart was thudding and she knew her cheeks were red. He had no place in her bedchamber, and that very fact made having him here so...so...
“My lady, Dunkeld is safe.”
“Oh!”
Chrissie collapsed, feeling her heart flow freely. She let out a few ragged breaths, as the tension she had not known she held slowly dissipated.
“Blaine,” she sighed after what felt like an hour, though it must have only been two minutes or so, “thank you. I am so grateful you came with the news, as soon as you could. Thank you.”
“I would have come sooner, my lady,” he said, running a tense hand over hair. “I just...you were...”
“Thank you for waiting until I was better.”
He sighed. “I had to. Milady, I didn't want the shock – the relief, that is – to harm you. Any strong feelings can cause a relapse, you know, and I didn't want to hurt you...” he trailed off, biting his lip. He choked, swallowed, and looked at her, level.
“Blaine,” she said softly. “You are so thoughtful.”
He turned red as a raspberry. It was spectacular to witness, and Chrissie bit her lip. She didn't want to shame him by smiling.
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely.
Chrissie laughed. She felt so happy with him here. She was almost sorry he would have to go so soon, but, now that he had delivered his news, there was no reason for him to remain here. Having him in her chamber with no pretext at all for being there really was improper, Ambeal's stoically disapproving witness or no.
“You should go,” she began. She noticed how reluctant her own voice sounded and was surprised. He smiled ruefully and stood, but stayed where he was.
“Yes,” he said.
“I will try and walk tomorrow,” Chrissie said lightly. “Perhaps you'll escort me to the garden?”
Blaine grinned. “Yes, milady! I'd be happy.”
“Thank you,” Chrissie smiled. Her eyes met his and held.
At that moment, there could have been an army in their castle, tearing up the hangings in the great hall. The place could have been on fire. They could have been invaded by ogres, and she would not have cared. All she saw – all that occupied her – was that boyish smile he gave her and his eyes on hers.
“Good day, milady Chrissie.”
“Good day, Blaine,” she sighed.
He bowed and walked swiftly out of the door, as though if he did not do it quickly he would simply not leave. When he had gone, Ambeal seemed to spring into action, stoking the fire, removing the gruel from the place it warmed on the stone in the center of the range, fussing with the covers and drawing the curtains.
“Heavens, milady. But you should be resting. If you want to be about tomorrow, you need to be much less tired-looking than you are now. I tell you...” she trailed off, heading to the table to fetch the soup.
As she ate, Chrissie thought about the discoveries she had made that morning. Her family was safe – which was the most important. However, her own personal discoveries were as exciting. She loved Heath, it was true. Nevertheless, her devotion to him was sisterly, and his to her was that of a loving brother. The way she felt for Blaine, now that was different. Her heart caught fire when he was there, her breath quickening, her pulse thumping.
She wanted Blaine in a way she half-understood herself. She also sensed he felt the same way. As she sat, demure and obedient, eating gruel slowly with a spoon and listening to Ambeal tell her news, she could not help but think over what it might be like to walk with Blaine in the gardens, listen to his deep voice talking and laughing with her. Feel the touch of his hand on hers, perhaps, steadying her as they walked around the circling pathway in the garden near the kitchens.
Yes, she thought, with a slow smile on her face, she really was looking forward to tomorrow. She would be well enough for it. She had to.
She lay there and thought of Blaine, remembering the way his eyes had wandered over her body, and feeling a strange and new sensation pulse through her.
She could hardly wait until the next day arrived.