Page 21 of A Knight To Call My Own
She watched the tip of her dirk as it turned a bright red. “The best course of action is to close up everything inside to kill the infection.”
“He willna like it, milady,” Angus uttered.
“I suspect as much, but you must help me by holding him down whilst I run the blade across his skin.”
Angus got into position, and afore Lynet could change her mind, she ran the red hot blade across the whiteness of Ian’s skin. He bellowed in rage and bucked like the wildest stallion. The smell of scorched skin fill the air. Yet, Angus remained firm in his resolve, and ’twas only a moment afore any strength Ian still held left him. He wearily collapsed on his makeshift bed, much to the relief of Lynet.
Connor returned, carrying a bucket of the frigid water from the river. From the looks of his boots and hose, he had attended to the task himself, since he all but left a puddle of water to mark his path.
Lynet took a cloth and dipped it into the bucket then laid it gently on Ian’s forehead. She gave the guards a sideways glance and all but dismissed them. “Go find your rest men and have no fear. I shall not leave him unattended and will see to his healing. I promise, he will yet live to fight another day.”
She worked far into the night, exchanging cloths when they became warm from the heat of his body. She tried to get him to sip on some broth, but he would have none of it. She at last gave up for the time being, seeing as she was making more of a mess of things without much of a result to show for her efforts.
Yet, still his fever raged on, far into the late evening hours. Lynet began to pray ’til her eyes became heavy from lack of sleep. She laid her head down next to this still man who had stolen her heart years afore. With loving thoughts filling her soul for Ian MacGillivray, she closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.
~***~
Ian opened his eyes and peered above him with blurred vision. Opening his mouth, he attempted to lick his dry lips. He was parched and desperately in need of something to quench his mighty thirst.
“Wine,” he called out, although the voice he heard sounded as though ’twas not his own, for ’twas raspy, at best, to his ears.
He felt a movement beside him and somehow managed to rise up on one elbow. Such a small effort on his part caused the room to spin inside his head. He closed his eyes to halt the movement that almost took the last of his strength.Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?
A calming voice came to him then, soothing his spirit ’til the wetness of cool water ran down his throat. He reached for the cup, attempting to gulp the contents, since his thirst was so great.
“Go easy now, Ian,” the voice whispered to his soul. “You must needs take small sips, my love.”
He laid himself back down upon the furs beneath him and leveled his gaze upon the woman who knelt beside him. She was a vision to be sure…an angel gracing his poor sorry form with her goodness and healing touch. Her golden hair framed her face like a halo, and he knew, without a doubt, a guardian from heaven was watching over him. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand to slowly cup her cheek. He was rewarded to hear her sigh most pleasingly, even as her own hand grasped at his.
“I am dead, then?” he mumbled.
Her smile reached her glorious eyes, and she placed a tender loving kiss in his palm. A truly loving gesture, but one he was not surely worthy of, from one of God’s own.
“Nay…you yet live. I have prayed for you, Ian, and am most thankful your fever has broken.”
“What happened to me?” Confusion wracked his brain whilst he tried to understand her words.
She did not bother to state the obvious, but laid a cool cloth upon his head. “You have not been well, my laird, and should have called me sooner.”
His mind began to clear ’til his vision focused on the young lass afore him. “Lynet?”
“Aye…rest yourself ’til you are completely healed.”
“You will not leave me?” he asked quietly.
She brushed a lock of his hair from his forehead that threatened to spill across his eye. “Nay…I will stay with you always, Ian.”
Her declaration restored his faith in himself that he would call her his wife. Silence came between them with only the sound of the crackling fire for noise as its smoke rose up through an opening in the canvas above. He heard dripping water, and a cool cloth was placed upon his forehead. His eyes never left hers whilst she continued her administrations on his behalf. She lifted the bandage on his side and replaced it with a poultice that took the sting from his wound.
He finally found his voice. “I never forgot you, Lynet.” His words lingered in the air, and he saw hope alight in her face.
“You need not say words you do not mean, Ian. The past is the past. Let any hard feelings I may have felt stay there. The only thing that matters is you are here now and must needs get well.”
He pointed to a nearby table. “Would you bring me that small chest?” Ian asked quietly, finding a renewed strength with Lynet’s nearness.
She retrieved the small box and brought it with her to sit down next to him. Folding her hands in her lap, she waited shyly for him with a blush upon her face. Ian pushed the box towards her. “Go ahead…open it,” he urged. “The proof you seek is there for you to see I speak no falsehood.”
Her hands shook as she flipped open the lid. He continued his perusal of her with much interest whilst she began taking various items out and carefully laying them upon the bed. She had almost reached the bottom when her hand halted and her mouth formed an O of surprise. She covered her lips with her fingers whilst tears shimmered in her eyes. “Oh, Ian!”
