Legacy of the Mist Clans Box Set (100 page)

She gazed at him in confusion for a moment, then closed her eyes and a tear dripped down her cheek. “I drove ye away,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked, swallowing his emotion. She didn’t need to be upset right now.

She opened her eyes and gazed up at him. “I wanted it tae be different. But I did all the wrong things. Then ye were out the door again, and my heart couldna take it.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Nay, ’twas no’ yer fault, but mine. I should have told ye, I should have explained it rather than scream at ye and tear ye down in ways ye ne’er deserved. It helped to have William. Especially when he was a wee bairn, he helped me keep my head. It didna hurt so much because I wasn’t alone anymore.”

“’Tis all right,” he murmured, but his heart trembled in his chest.

“Forgive me for being so bitter tae ye. William was all I had tae hold on
tae, but I kenned he would eventually reach the age when ye would take him with ye. Then I’d have no one.”

He took the damp cloth sitting next to him and gently blotted her face. “I ne’er would have done that.”

“I kenned that, just like I ken it now. But whenever ye picked him up, I was certain ye’d stride out the door with him, and I’d never see either of ye again.”

“I would ne’er—”

“The fear in me ne’er made sense. I canna explain why it was there or why it was so strong. But it could be so powerful it was mind-numbing. There were times I thought it would squeeze my heart until it stopped beating in my chest. If I didna let ye hold William, if I didna let ye love him, ye wouldna take him away. I’m sorry
, Connell. I should have ne’er done that tae ye. Ye only wanted tae love him.”

“I do love him, Ina, just as I love ye.”

Her eyes brightened a bit, and he was very glad to be able to speak the words to her and that they made her happy.

“I’m glad ye told me the truth. When ye be well again, we will talk . . . talk . . . no more fighting. I dinna want tae hurt yer heart, and I ken ye dinna want tae hurt mine. I’ll tell the MacGrigor that I will no longer be able tae travel. I’m certain he can find plenty of tasks for me right here at home.”

“Ye need tae spend more time before the forge. Ye have a mighty talent at smithing, and ye should no’ ignore it. Ye’ve been letting the hammer s
it idle for far too long.”

His lips lifted as he gazed down at her. “Aye, ye be right. I need to devote myself tae my trade and no’ be running all over this blessed land. Ye have my word, Ina, I will no longer leave ye.”

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she reached up to caress his cheek with trembling fingers. She managed a sad smile. “Thank ye, Connell. But I fear everything has changed. It is I who must leave now. Please take good care of William for me.”

Connell stiffened as a terrible chill of dread cut through his chest and speared his heart. “Ina, hush,” he said, but his voice cracked. “Ye will be just fine. I promise ye, we willna fight anymore.”

“No more fighting,” she whispered. A smile played on her lips as she closed her eyes. “I would like that. I miss what we once were, what we used tae be.”

“So do I.”

“Tell William . . . I am so sorry . . . please tell him that I love him.”

The icy dread sank to the pit of his belly and stole his breath away. His vision blurred suddenly from the tears he refused to shed. “Nay, Ina. William still needs ye. I need ye.”

“Forgive me. I dinna wish tae leave ye, but I dinna have a choice.”

His heart hesitated in his chest as she used his own words against him. But this was far greater than him leaving on a duty for his laird. Ina would never return from this journey.

“Nay, please dinna leave me.”

Her hand fell away. “I’m sorry for the hurt I caused ye. I love ye, Connell MacGrigor. I’m sorry I wasna a good wife tae ye, but I do love ye.”

“Ina, please,” his voice cracked as she closed her eyes. “Ina!” He felt her breathing become more labored.

“Ina!”

She slipped into unconsciousness. No matter how much he called her name, he could not rouse her,
and the deeper she went, the more she fought to breathe.

He prayed to the Almighty to spare her life. He watched Lia work herself into exhaustion. But it seemed as if the harder Lia fought to save the lives of his family, the faster they slipped away.

Ina was so very still in his arms, her breath so very shallow. He continued to hold her, to talk to her, to beg her to return to him. But her body suddenly went rigid as another convulsion seized her—this one so much worse than anything before.

“Ina! Nay! Please, ye canna die! Please!”

“I’m sorry, Connell,” Lia’s voice whispered in his thoughts. “The fever has gone too high; it has lasted too long. There’s nothing else I can do.”

Tears streaming down his face, he held his wife in his arms, but he wasn’t strong enough to hold her to this realm,
and bit by bit, she slipped away. Until her chest rose and fell, then did not rise again.

“Nay, Ina, nay!”

He only wanted to run from the massive sick room the great hall had become, but as he watched Lachlan and the other lads wrap Ina’s body in a death shroud and carry her from the room, he heard William sobbing over the death of his mum. Connell looked down, realizing that he now held his ten-year-old son.

“’Tis all right, William,” he said, pulling him close. “Yer da be here.”

Everything melted strangely around him. The next thing he knew, he knelt at his brother’s side,
pleading with him to live. He was three years younger than Connell and not yet married. But when Connell was away, Broden watched over his family, and Connell had never once worried over them no matter how far he had to travel. As the eldest, it was Connell’s duty to protect his brother when they were growing up, to keep him safe, but when Broden needed his brother’s strength the most, it again failed Connell, and he could not hold Broden to this realm.

William was the only one who remained. Connell tried to squash the hope in his heart, but he could not stop what was to happen, what had happened.

“He was healing!” Lia’s voice cried in pain. The anguish she vented became Connell’s own. William had been recovering, but his mum’s death, then his uncle’s, struck him a hard blow.

That was the crux of it. Connell had been gone so much that he was no longer William’s foundation. A third time Connell’s strength failed him as he was unable to hold his son to this realm. His child depended not on his father, but on others, and when they died, so did his son’s will to live.

As Connell watched William slip away, bit by agonizing bit, he knew the fault lay firmly at his own feet.

“William, forgive me! I’m sorry I wasna there when ye needed me. I’m sorry I wasna a father tae ye!”

He held his
son, remembering the wee bairn he had once been. Connell had held him in his arms when he came into this world, and so did he hold him as William left it.

“Nay, William, nay!”

Then suddenly he was standing at the smith’s forge, watching the red-hot embers choke and die and fade into black ash. There was nothing left . . . they were gone. Connell watched the ashes blow away in the wind.

“I pledged my blade tae her service, but it was she who waged a battle for my heart.”

~
Connell MacGrigor

C
onnell sat up in bed, a cry strangling on his lips against the pain of his seizing muscles as he moved. His body was soaked in sweat, the linens twisted around him. His thoughts scrambled as he battled to catch his breath. He searched the bed, but it was empty. He saw the cradle, but it too was empty.

He stared down at his hands, and agony rose within him. They were empty, just like his heart.

Ina and William were dead.

That’s what was wrong. He was alone. It had been a cruel dream, all of it. He had not held his bairn in his arms; he had not found a moment of peace from his guilt and loss.

The door opened, startling him. Mairi stood there holding Adam. He blinked. Wait. What had been dream and what had been real?

“Connell, are ye all right?”

He and Ina had argued in his dream, just as they had always argued before he left. He had suffered their deaths yet again.

But Mairi . . . Adam . . .

He remembered so clearly holding a bairn in his arms. He remembered holding her in his arms. He didn’t care about the pain that lanced through him with his aching muscles. He reached for her. The moment she sat next to him and he held her and Adam close, the world suddenly righted itself. His arms were no longer empty. He released a ragged sigh and buried his face in her hair.

“Connell, ye be shaking. Ye need tae lie back down.”

He refused to move. “Nay.”

“Was the medicant too strong again?”

“I be fine.”

“Will ye cease saying that?”

She was right. His arms tightened around her. He heard Adam grunt and felt his wee hand try to grip a lock of his hair. Mairi deftly caught Adam’s hand before he could latch on and yank. Connell knew he should move, but he couldn’t.

“Forgive me.” He lifted his head enough to look down at her. He intended to explain himself, to relate to her how his dreams had confused him, but then his gaze focused on her lips, and sane thought fled his mind. He needed a kiss from her. Surely the touch of her lips would ground him in reality. Before he could truly think his actions through, he lowered his head and captured her mouth.

She tasted sweeter than honey mead, and the sensation was just as heady. It took him only an instant to realize she had been kissed before but never thoroughly. Connell was of the belief that if he was going to kiss a lassie he would not only do it right but he would also do it well, and he pursued Mairi with abandon. He felt her relax against him, her lips soft and warm underneath his. Their tongues tangled, and Connell felt the power of this kiss grow and flourish, then she tentatively began to mimic his actions, and his heart soared as she became more responsive to him. It rapidly moved beyond anything he had experienced before, and for a brief moment, he willingly lost himself in the magic.

He didn’t want it to end, but Adam started to fuss. Connell lifted his head, struggling to catch his breath. Mairi looked up at him, also breathing hard, her lips reddened from his kiss. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “Forgive me. I hope I didna offend ye.”

“Nay, Connell,” she said softly but firmly. But then a slight frown blurred her brow. “Do ye ken where ye be?”

He vaguely remembered having this conversation afore . . . didn’t he? “Aye, Edinburgh.”

“Good,” she said and smiled. “How be yer pain? And dinna tell me ye be fine.”

He felt her hand cup his cheek and opened his eyes as his lips tugged upward. “I still hurt, but no’ so terribly that I canna think straight.”

“Verra good. I think the medicant was too strong for ye. Now, let me get Adam settled and I’ll help ye. Ye nearly tore this bed apart with yer tossing.”

He looked down at himself and realized he didn’t wear nary a stitch, and the blankets were coming close to revealing all. His wits finally caught up with him, and he pulled the linens tighter around his waist. “Dinna worry over me. I ken ye have enough tae do without me adding tae it.”

“I wouldna be worrying over ye if ye werena such a hardheaded, stubborn lout. Now, do as I tell ye.”

He felt himself growing dizzy again. He hated arguing because of what he had endured before, but here he was trying tae argue with Mairi when she was absolutely right. What was wrong with him?

Mairi was correct there too. He was a hardheaded, stubborn lout.

“Lie down and I’ll return in a moment.”

“Mairi—”

She was already pushing him back down on the bed. Then she floored him when she swooped in and touched her lips to his, kissing him powerfully. Connell folded like a crumbling castle wall before a siege engine. When she pulled away, he was on the bed, his head on the pillow.

“Better,” she said, pulling the blankets over him. “Now, stay put. I’ll be right back.”

“Mairi—”

“Stay.”

“Mairi—”

She gave him an arched look. “Stay.”

He opened his mouth.

“Stay,” she said, wagging a finger at him.

A surprising chuckle rumbled through him. He flinched because it hurt, but that didn’t stop it. “Verra well, lassie. I’ll be a good mastiff and stay.”

She grinned at him and disappeared through the door, closing it behind her.

He rubbed his eyes and stared at the door. Aye, he knew what he wanted, but he knew he did not dare reach for it, and his nightmares had vividly reminded him exactly why. He had spoken the vows to Ina, and one of them was to protect her, and eventually their son, from all harm. He had failed because he had turned his back on them. He had not been there when they had fallen ill, and he had lost them.

Connell had given Mairi a similar oath to stand before her and danger. He had pledged his sword to her. She and Adam couldn’t afford for him to fail a second time.

“Yer duty be damned! That’s all ye care about, Connell MacGrigor, that’s all ye ever will care about.”

Now, the lives of two more people depended on his devotion to duty. What no one understood was why he had committed himself so deeply to this, why he refused to fail no matter the odds he faced.

It hadn’t started out this way, and Connell wasn’t certain exactly when it had come about, but now he understood the reason why he would not accept failure.

He had not been able to save Ina and William—but Mairi and Adam he could.

HHH

Mairi returned carrying a tray laden with food. Connell’s eyes widened at the amount. She placed the tray beside him on the bed. At last his belly rumbled, gnawing at him.

“What day is it?” he asked, appreciating the change. Few things curbed his appetite. Anyone who truly knew Connell knew whatever ailment he had was serious when he refused to eat.

“Sunday. The church bells rang for Nones some time ago.” She placed a cup in his hand. “Drink this first. The apothecary said ye need tae have food with this one.”

“Who?” he asked, sniffing the cup suspiciously. That’s why he believed he had been in Glen Gyle. It smelled exactly like one of Lia’s vile concoctions.

A soft blush highlighted her cheeks. “The apothecary. Ye needed something for yer pain. But I be powerfully vexed with him. He made the doses too strong.”

He looked at her curiously. “’Tis all right, Mairi. I appreciate ye getting the medicant. I certainly need it.” He took a tentative sip. “And this doesna taste near so awful.”

“I cut the dosage in half when ye awakened believing Adam was William.”

He had started to lift the cup to his lips again but froze. “I did what?” he asked in shock.

To his surprise, the blush on her cheeks increased. “Adam awoke from his nap, and before I could fetch him, his crying woke ye. Ye thought he was William, and right as I came through the door, ye scooped him from his cradle and settled him as easily as if ye’d been doing it all yer life. The next thing I kenned, ye had curled around him in bed and fallen back asleep.”

His thoughts scrambled again. He remembered holding a bairn in his arms. It hadn’t entirely been a dream. He looked at the cup he still held suspended. “Ye didna make it so strong this time?”

“Nay.”

He would have shrugged but knew it would only cause him pain. Instead, he lifted the cup to his lips and downed it. “I just hope I didna say anything daft,” he muttered, handing the cup back to her.

“Aside from believing me yer wife, that Adam was William and our son, and that we were at Glen Gyle instead of Edinburgh, nay, ye didna say anything daft at all.”

“Holy hell,” he muttered, mortified at himself, but he couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips. “When I be barmy, I do it right.”

She laughed softly. “True, but dinna worry over it, Connell. I ken it was the medicant.”

“’Tis no’ the first time something like this has happened. I had been working before the forge in Glen Gyle. This was long before Lia came tae us with her healing skills. I managed tae injure myself. Marta was the village healer and gave me a potion. I spent the next three days in bed rambling liked a damned fool. Ina refused to enter the room because—” The words died on his lips as soon as he realized they had escaped him.

The guilt returned, tearing at his heart and robbing him of his breath. He squeezed his eyes closed and lowered his head. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

“Connell.” Suddenly Mairi was next to him, cradling his head to her breast and holding him tightly. “’Tis all right. Ye can talk about her whenever ye want. I dinna mind.”

The worst of it wasn’t telling her about Ina; it was the guilt he suffered when he remembered her. He felt Mairi’s arms tighten around him, and the war within him only increased. He felt better when Mairi held him and offered comfort. He longed to turn to her for solace. But with that desire, he felt as if he betrayed the memory of those he had lost, that he had not yet atoned for his sins and could not find refuge until he did. Tears burned his eyes, but he refused to shed them.

“Listen tae me,” she murmured, pressing her lips against the top of his head. “I ken ye be hurting, I ken ye’ve suffered, but speaking of it helps. Although I wasna entirely honest with Kenna because I feared for Adam, I did tell her about my husband and how terribly it hurt when he died. And ye ken the heartbreak I suffered when I lost my bairn. ’Tis why I love Adam as my own.”

“Whenever I think of them, I feel an empty ache, all I know is loss. Does it ever stop?”

“Ye still feel it so powerfully because ye have no’ allowed yerself tae move beyond that suffering.”

“I feel as if I do that, I’ll forget them.”

“Ye care nothing for William and I.”
He flinched as Ina’s voice echoed in his memory.

“Dinna listen tae that accusing voice inside ye.”

He stared up at her. Had she heard it too?

Mairi’s expression was so kind and caring it stole the last of his resistance. Her fingers traced over his face and through his hair. “I ken the voice because I heard it too.” She paused and tapped her head. “When I was grieving over my bairn.”

He frowned. He should remember what she had told him, but it had been long ago, and then he, Aidan, and Kenna had been reeling over learning Adam’s true identity.

She studied him and swallowed hard, her eyes growing liquid. “I didna tell ye the whole story, did I? I ken a bit about what ye are suffering. When I learned my husband had died in the war, I was so distraught that I went into early labor the next day. I was alone, Connell. No one heard my cries for help. My bairn died, and I almost did too. Within two days I had lost everything.”

His heart twisted. Indeed, she had lost just as much as he had, but he knew few details of what had happened to her. A tear trickled down her cheek, and despite the pain of moving his arm, he reached up and gently brushed it away. “How did ye survive it? Even now ye shed a tear and it’s been how long?”

“Almost a year. Aye, sometimes it hurts worse than others, and I still cry. But I survived because of the village midwife. She came the next day tae check on me. Otherwise, I probably would have died too. She brought me tae her home where she could more easily tend tae me. She was a bit like Lia in a way; if it had anything tae do with bairns or breeding, or even failing tae conceive, people came tae her for miles around. She had made her home into an infirmary of sorts, but she didna see tae any other ailments. I was there when they brought Adam’s mother tae her.”

“So ye met his mum?”

“Nay, I barely caught a glimpse of her and was too weak tae rise from my bed. Some men had found her on the road. She was great with child and terrified. Longshanks sent sell-swords to kill her, and she had run so hard trying tae escape them that she had gone into labor. The midwife attended her immediately in the birthing room. It seemed like forever, but I finally heard a child crying. Yet the midwife emerged terribly upset. I was stunned when she brought the child tae me explaining the mother had died. I was the only one producing the first milk a newborn needed.”

“First milk?”

“I didna ken, but the midwife said the milk produced right after a bairn is born is verra important. If I didna become a wet nurse tae the bairn, there was a good chance he would die too. I was grieving so terribly I almost refused, but his cries . . . I couldna turn him away.” Her tears grew larger and dripped rapidly down her cheeks. “The moment the midwife placed him in my arms, I kenned I would never let him go. That’s when she told me what Adam’s mum had said before she passed, that he was the bastard son of Prince Edward. That’s why the men had been trying tae kill her.”

“I’m surprised the midwife believed her.”

“I dinna ken, I only ken that it was because of Adam I was able tae look tae the future.” She gruffly wiped away her own tears and managed a smile. “Honestly, Connell, even with Adam, for a time I was so lost and alone. Even after I met Kenna . . . it wasn’t until ye gave me yer vow that I truly began tae have hope. The pain of loss is still there. It eases, but I dinna think it ever truly goes away. It be more like ye learn tae cope with it. But I’m still learning too. I just want ye tae ken that it be all right tae grieve. But it also be all right tae remember the happiness ye shared. Dinna just focus on the pain of loss.”