Lost Bride Chapter 8

SIX

MEMORIES OF LOVE

As they rejoined the others, a couple of crofters offered Rory a drink. Lucy excused herself, hoping a few minutes alone might bring her down from her emotional ledge. She made her way through a small patch of bluebells and leaned against an old oak. The full moon shone through the break in the trees, casting a magical glow, the likes of which could only be found in Scotland. Feelings for Rory aside, this place still filled her with wonder.

“Is that you, Lucy?” At first, the voice sounded like Rory’s, but Angus was soon by her side. He grinned and leaned back against the tree. “Has that rogue, Rory, abandoned you?”

“No, Angus. He hasn’t.” Her answer came out a bit sharper than she had intended. She wasn’t usually bothered by his glib demeanor, but at that moment, her emotions were raw.

“Are you feeling all right?”

She could barely mask her impatience. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“And you don’t sound like you actually care, which is basically business as usual, isn’t it?”

It took a lot to render Angus speechless, but Lucy had done it. He clutched his chest and fell back against the tree with mock pretense as if he’d been shot.

Lucy couldn’t deny she’d been harsh. “That was uncalled for. Forgive me.”

He grinned, fully recovered, and gave her a knowing look, which he combined with his usual charm. “I dinnae suppose this has anything to do with my brother.”

He drew her into his gaze, and she smiled. “It’s possible.”

“Having lived with him for twenty-eight years, I’d wager a bet that whatever he did was his fault, not yours.”

“And you’d lose that bet.”

“Oh, lovely Lucy, I cannae imagine you doing anything wrong.”

“You have no imagination.”

He laughed, and she couldn’t help but join in. Angus leaned back, folded his arms, and turned his head toward hers. “Why don’t you tell brother Angus all about it?”

“You’re too charming by half.”

Angus smiled as though he’d heard that comment before. “Aye.”

“Which is why you’ll get nothing from me.”

“Och, lass. Is there nothing I can do to coax you?” He flashed a raffish grin. “Or is there nothing I can coax you to do?”

Lucy swatted his arm. As her light laughter faded, she looked up to find Rory a few feet away, watching.

Lucy straightened, leaving Angus still leaning against the tree trunk. “Rory—”

“We were just talking about you.” With a sly smile, Angus nodded to Lucy and walked away.

Rory gripped Angus’s arm and forced him to stop. In a low voice, he said, “Have you learned nothing?”

Angus shot a dark look at his brother. “It’s not what you think, not that it matters to you.”

Lucy joined them. “Rory, what’s wrong?” Although the thought occurred to her that he could be jealous, it made so little sense that she dismissed it.

Rory’s eyes bored through hers. “I’m leaving. Maybe Angus can see you home.”

“Rory—” It was too late. He was walking away. Chasing after him would just cause a scene, so she watched him disappear into the misty darkness. She turned to Angus. “How long a walk is it from here?”

“Dinnae fash, Lucy. I’ll not leave you stranded.”

Rather than ask Rory,

Lucy missed her daily trip to the cairn and lunched in her room to avoid him. But the sun shone, which was not all that common for this time of the year, so she could not resist sneaking out through the kitchen to go for a walk. She’d been walking for twenty minutes or so when she heard a horse slow to a trot, then a walk.

“Lucy?”

She didn’t need to look to know it was Rory. “I’m enjoying my walk. Let’s not spoil it.” She didn’t want to stop and look him in the eye, but the last thing she needed was drama, so she stopped and looked.

Rory drew closer. “I had a talk with my brother this morning. Evidently last night, Angus was just being Angus.”

“And I was just being myself. Which leaves you. Who was that?”

He looked down, slowly shaking his head.

“I think that I’m partly to blame,” she said. “My behavior—with you—it invited assumptions that just can’t be.”

His eyes burned through her attempted composure. “Your ‘behavior’? We kissed, and you cannae even say it.”

She looked down, knowing her eyes would betray her. Her voice was surprisingly calm. “I feel as though I’ve brought back feelings you’d rather not have.” She glanced up to see his response.

A flicker of pain crossed his face. “Aye, I suppose you remind me of what love felt like, and it wasnae all good.”

She nodded. “Love’s not always easy.”

“She never knew that I loved her.” His eyes flashed as he turned toward her. “I never had the chance to tell her before Angus—” He stopped himself.

Lucy started to speak but thought better of it.

Rory’s eyes had a dark, deadened look. “Angus knew. I told him once that I loved her. A week later, I was on my way out to the stable when they came out, hand in hand, laughing together. Until they saw me. Later on, she found me in a place I once took her to. She said she was sorry. She told me she loved him and he loved her too.

“She didn’t understand how easily words came to Angus. They still do. He loves women. Every woman he’s ever been with, he loves something about. What he loved about Margery lasted a month. In the end, he broke her heart and mine.”

“How could he do that to his own brother?”

“He doesnae ken how not to. He didnae do it to hurt me. But I think, when he saw how I loved her, he looked at her differently. Perhaps he wanted to feel what I felt, and he thought that he’d feel it with her as I had. Dinnae think I excuse him, but I do understand him. I’m certain he thought that I’d never find out, so no one would be hurt.”

“So you forgave her.”

“Did I?”

“You married her, didn’t you?”

He smiled a self-deprecating smile. “Aye.”

Lucy studied his face, the strong features with such pain in his eyes. If Lucy’s heart hadn’t already been aching for him, that look would have done it. “And seeing me talking with Angus brought back all those feelings.”

His gaze rested on her with a weight that was heavy to bear. A long while passed before he spoke. “I ken how you feel about me.”

“It’s not about how I feel. It’s about what can’t be. My future was never meant to be here.”

“Lucy.” He put his hands on her shoulders, but she took a step back as if he were poison. And maybe he was—for her.

“There’s too much in the way,” she said. “Tyler, Margery, you’re still angry with Angus, and I want to go home. What’s wrong with this picture? It’s a miracle we’re standing here now.”

His mouth twitched at the corner. “But we are. And I dinnae think we should allow the past to keep us from the future.”

“Your future.” There was no hope in her eyes. “Mine is somewhere through that cairn.”

Rory was better at masking emotions than she was. He looked stoic while, for all her good sense and logic, Lucy still wanted nothing more than to sink against his chest and feel his arms about her. But instead, Rory gave her shoulder a slight squeeze and mounted his horse. “It’s growing late. We should be on our way.”

Lucy arrived

home from her daily pilgrimage to the fairy cairn, went up the stairs, and walked down the hall toward her room.

“Uh-agh!”

Lucy stopped outside of the laird’s room. When she heard more guttural noises, she knocked. “Captain? Are you all right?”

He moaned.

“Barron? Nurse Dow?” She tried the door, but it was locked. Hearing her, Rory emerged from his room and was soon by her side. “I heard something,” she said. “I think he might be hurt.”

Rory called out to his father as he tried the door handle. “Stand aside.” He kicked in the door.

They found the laird on the floor by his bed. They rushed to him and helped him back onto the bed. Lucy fluffed up some pillows until he seemed comfortable. “Captain, how did you manage to get out of bed?”

His answer was gruff. “How does anyone get out of bed? I sat up and then stood. That’s when things got a bit hazy.”

“You probably fainted,” Rory said.

Lucy caught sight of the bedside table containing some medical instruments resting inside a bowl stained with blood.

“Captain, has someone been drawing blood from you?”

“Aye, my jailer, Nurse Dow, fills that bowl twice a day.”

Lucy started to smile when he referred to his nurse, but when he mentioned filling the bowl, she was deeply concerned. “Captain, if you don’t mind my asking, what exactly is the nature of your illness?”

“Och, well if you must know, I had the bloody flux.”

Bloody flux.

Lucy knew she’d heard that somewhere, but where? Then it came to her: dysentery.

“I got over it days ago,” the captain said. “But I cannae seem to get my strength back.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t take a doctor to know that losing that much blood is going to make you dizzy and weak.”

“What’s this?” The captain’s nurse stood in the doorway, hands on hips, eyeing the scene.

Lucy made no effort to hide her annoyance with the nurse’s scolding glare. “The captain fell, and we’re helping him.”

“I’ve only been gone for a minute or two.” She appeared far more concerned about how it reflected upon her than she did for the captain’s well-being.

“He’s all right now.”

Rory’s father winced as Nurse Dow readjusted his pillows. “Now, Captain, you shouldnae be out of your bed.”

He cast a knowing look at Lucy. “Aye, well, I’d have preferred falling

into

bed, but as it turns out, I had no choice.” He gave Rory an impatient glance.

“You should rest,” Rory said. “I’ll check in on you later.”

Lucy snuck a sympathetic look at the captain. “I should go.” She smiled at him but then watched the nurse go to the bedside table.

The nurse picked up a sharp, pointy instrument from the bowl. “Time for your afternoon treatment.”

Lucy could only imagine spending day and night with the flinty Nurse Dow. As she was no more eager than the captain to incur the woman’s displeasure beyond the scowl that was already pointed at her, Lucy trod carefully.

“What treatment is that?” Lucy asked, suspecting the answer.

With a sideways glance that told Lucy she was only answering her out of a limited supply of patience, Nurse Dow said, “I’m breathing the vein.”

“You mean bleeding? Bloodletting?”

“Aye, so you must leave now.” She kept a sharp eye on Lucy and waited.

“Oh no,” Lucy said. “I can’t let you do that. In fact, I insist that you stop.” She glanced at the captain. “I’m sorry, but this will only make you worse.”

The nurse bristled and turned the force of her unyielding will upon Lucy. “And what gives you the right to order me around?”

Lucy wasn’t going to get anywhere with the woman by antagonizing her, so she tried to soften her tone without sounding too patronizing. “Not ordering. I’m suggesting that you stop this course of treatment.” She narrowed her eyes at the nurse, who, unused to such challenges, widened her eyes. Then Lucy turned to Rory. “Please stop this.”

His questioning look was met with Lucy’s certainty. “Where I come from, it’s widely acknowledged that not only doesn’t this help, but it can lead to dire results. She is literally draining the life out of your father.”

“No more treatments,” Rory said to the nurse.

The woman bristled and dropped the instruments into the bowl with a clink then folded her arms. “I dinnae ken why I’m here if you won’t let me do my job.”

“It’s nothing against you,” Lucy said. “I know that you’re doing the best that you can.” She didn’t actually know that for sure, but it seemed to unruffle some feathers.

Nurse Dow settled down in a chair with her knitting, while Rory and Lucy all but tiptoed out of the room.

After walking

Lucy to her room, Rory went to the library. There, he found Angus and told him what had happened.

“He’s all right?”

“Aye. But you ken that there’s been a slight change in Father’s treatment.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. We’ve stopped the bloodletting.”

“We?”

“Lucy and I.”

Angus eyed his brother suspiciously. “You ken, do you not, that as firstborn and heir, I make the final decision in such matters. It’s how Father wants it.”

“He’s still able to make his own decisions, and he agrees.”

“Does he? Well, maybe that’s because he doesnae like an old cow sticking sharp things into his arm twice a day. But if he needs that to get better—”

“He doesn’t.”

“And how do you ken that?”

“Lucy told me.”

Angus nodded with a glint in his eye. “So our bonnie Lucy’s a doctor?”

This angered Rory, as Angus must have expected it would. “No, but she kens things.”

Angus practically scoffed. “She kens things.”

“Have I ever told you how I met Lucy?”

Angus gave him a wry look. “You know you have not, for I’ve asked.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. Lucy came through the fairy cairn.”

Angus nearly laughed. “You’re not speaking in jest?”

Rory shook his head. “Do you ken when, as children, I told you I’d gone through the cairn to the land of the fairies?”

“Aye. So our Lucy’s a fairy?”

“It wasnae the land of the fairies, it was the future—nearly three hundred years from now.”

Angus shook his head. “No, that’s madness. That’s what you’re talking. Pure madness.”

Rory nodded. “I cannae blame you for doubting.”

“Doubting? You’re mad as a March hare if you think that she’s telling the truth.”

“She has no reason to lie.”

“Unless she’s as mad as you are. Or maybe you’re just that much in love.”

Rory glowered. “If I were, I wouldnae tell you.”

Angus’s eyes flickered in reaction to Rory’s remark, but he ignored it. “You’re asking me to withhold Father’s medical treatment—treatment which could save his life—based on the opinion of a woman we barely know… from three hundred years in the future.”

Rory leveled a look that would have unsettled a lesser man. “She’s certain it would cost him his life. I believe her.”

What Rory was asking of Angus was not an easy thing, and he knew it. The fact that Angus wasn’t already walking out the door spoke a good deal about his respect for his brother.

Angus walked over to the window and looked out. “From the future… She does speak very strangely.”

“Aye, she calls it a New York accent.”

Angus looked doubtful. “Well, the old York accent doesnae sound a thing like it.” He turned to Rory. “We’ll see how he feels tomorrow and the day after that. If at any time he seems worse, we’ll resume treatments.”

Rory nodded his agreement.