Tyler, Lynn - For Her Honor [For Her] (Siren Publishing Classic) (20 page)

“You have other duties to see to,” Robbie retorted.

Other duties? His keep was so well run, Jocelyn had scarce little to do. “What other duties?” Jocelyn said, her voice beginning to rise.

“I do not know what the keep’s mistress must see to,” he replied irritably. “Besides, you will be busy raising the bairn I planted in your belly last night.”

Fury, pure and real, flooded through her, and she barely resisted the urge to scream, which she knew would accomplish absolutely nothing. She breathed through her nose and was suddenly bombarded by the acrid scent of smoke. Smoke? That wasn’t right. “Do you smell that?” she asked.

He wrinkled his nose, and he sniffed the air cautiously. “Smoke?” he asked.

“It smells like something is burning,” she confirmed, all of the anger draining out of her.

Smoke was never a good thing. She watched his face as he looked up and focused on something over her shoulder. His expression changed from frustration to one of horror, and she spun around to see what he was looking at.

Thick black smoke belched from the ground and billowed toward the heavens. He grabbed her hand, and they ran toward the keep. They arrived to find the crops in flames.

He was yanking her toward the keep even as he began shouting orders to the streaming out of the bailey and into the fields. There was no need for the orders, however, as the men had already formed long lines from the well and were passing down buckets of water to try to put out the flames. He delivered her to the inner bailey and tried to rush her inside. She dug her heels in and resisted with all her might. As healer her place was out here with the men in case someone got injured. With a huff of impatience, he leaned down and growled right in his ear. “I do not have time for this, wife. Go into the keep where you will be safe.”

She almost refused but the look of genuine fear in his eyes stopped her. A sudden understanding settled over her. If she was out here, his concentration would be on her safety and not on the safety of himself or his men. Nodding her head, she looked over his shoulder toward the keep where the women and staff were gathering. “Go, Robbie!” she shouted over the roar of fire and men. Just before he ran away, she grabbed his arm again. “Be careful!” He kissed her hard on the mouth before pivoting.

She watched as he ran at full speed and joined in the effort. She stood in the doorway and stared at the flaming hell just feet away from the door. Their crops would be decimated, and she was helpless to do anything about it.

She straightened her back and took a deep breath. She was mistress here. It was her duty to make sure their stores would last them through the winter. Casting a final glance at her husband, she turned and marched through the bailey, up the keep stairs and straight into the kitchens.

Jocelyn worked through the afternoon with the kitchen staff, portioning the winter stores into rations. Winter would be lean, but they would survive if the men were able to keep the larder stocked with meat. Unfortunately they would have to start rationing the food now, or it would never last them until the next harvest.

She kept one eye on the doors for any men needing medical attention. Fortunately, between the apothecary and the kitchen garden, she had been able to find everything she needed to treat the few men who had staggered in with burns.

The doors burst open, and four men came in bearing the writhing body of a black-haired man. Jocelyn knew a moment of pure hell until she realized it was not Robbie but Will.

Swallowing the brief taste of guilt at her relief it wasn’t her husband who was hurt, she rushed to Will’s side as the men eased him onto a pallet she had placed earlier on the floor for the wounded.

Ignoring his agonized screams, she removed the material of his linen tunic from his burns and surveyed the damage.

Flames had licked up Will’s abdomen and up to his neck, leaving nothing but melted and blistered flesh. She stripped off his kilt and laid a clean towel over his groin to preserve his modesty.

Thankfully, both his face and manhood had been spared. His back and legs had also been left untouched.

“Get me cool water,” she snapped to the young maid, Elizabeth, who was standing next to her, wringing her hands. “And clean linen strips.”

The maid hurried off, and Jocelyn scooped up the bowl of salve she had mixed up earlier in anticipation of treating burns. She would have enough to treat Will but not anyone else.

Slowly she became aware of a presence next to her. She looked up briefly and saw Robbie and Jamie standing just behind her, both white-faced under the soot. She fought the urge to throw herself at her husband and forced her attention back to her new brother-in-law. “Are there any others who are injured?” she asked quietly.

She heard one of the brothers clear his throat and then Jamie’s voice followed. “Nay, the fire is out.”

Nodding tersely, Jocelyn accepted the water and linen from the maid. “He will need laudanum,” she said to no one in particular.

She braced herself for what she had to do next.

As gently as she could, she laid a clean, wet cloth over Will’s burns. He lurched up off the pallet and cried out in pain.

“Please, God. Just let me die,” he begged, his voice hoarse from the fire and from his screams.

“Hush, Will. Just lie still. I will be done soon,” she soothed, crooning nonsense as she cleaned his wounds. She blotted the sweat from his brow as she continued to chant in his ear.

Jamie dropped to his knees next to her and handed her a cup of laudanum. Wordlessly, Robbie knelt behind his brother and raised his head so Will could drink. Even the simple movement of moving his head caused Will to groan in pain, and he choked on the liquid as it ran down his throat.

They waited as Will fell into a fitful sleep, his head in Robbie’s lap.

She smoothed the salve over his burns carefully, trying to avoid shredding any of the remaining skin. At her nod, Robbie and Jamie lifted their brother and carried him to his bedchamber.

Their footsteps echoed on the stairs as Jocelyn instructed Sarah on how to care for Will in her absence, and then she left to search out her husband.

She found him in their bedchamber, sitting morosely in a chair by the fireplace, still black with soot except for where his sweat had left tracks in the dirt on his face.

Jocelyn allowed him to pull her onto his lap, and she clasped him to her, thankful he was alive and well. She held him quietly, stroking his hair as his big body shuddered with grief.

Jamie joined them and paced restlessly. Neither seemed able to ask the question, and she was not sure they would like the answer. Finally, Robbie drew in a deep breath and lifted his head. “Will he live?”

Jamie stopped instantly, his whole attention on Jocelyn. She tightened her grip on Robbie and sighed. “I do not know,” she answered truthfully. “He is strong, but he could still develop infection or fever, or both. If he comes out of this alive, he will be scarred for the rest of his life.”

Jamie roared with fury and swung viciously at a cabinet against the wall, his fist connecting with the wood before shattering through it. He began to pace again, muttering oaths under his breath.

Robbie became deathly still, though his hands tightened on her waist. She ignored the pressure though she knew it would leave bruises. “I will kill them,” he vowed darkly. “I will kill whoever did this.”

“It was deliberate then?” she asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Robbie ground out. “It has not been so dry as to catch fire on its own. None of our men would have done this.”

She nodded and pulled him back to her so his head rested on her shoulder. She let her own cheek rest on the top of his head. “How much was destroyed?” she queried.

“Almost half. Damn! What are we going to do?” Robbie mumbled into her neck, despair ringing in his voice.

“Caleb and I rationed the stores. Winter will be lean, but we will survive.

“As for Will, we must wait and pray he has it in him to survive. Burns are very painful, and many die from shock,” she replied, holding on to Robbie with all her might as he began to shake once more.

Slowly the tremors left Robbie, and he held her quietly, stroking the back of her hand distractedly, lost in thought.

The horror of the afternoon finally caught up with her, and she began to weep. “I thought it was you,” she managed between sobs.

“Hush, Jocelyn. I am all right,” he soothed, rubbing her back in small circles. She gripped him tightly, almost afraid if she were to let him go, he would disappear.

“Come,” he said close to her ear. “I am filthy and am in need of a bath.”

She swallowed her sobs and nodded. Jamie left, promising to give the kitchen staff instructions to put the kettles on for the laird’s bath.

Robbie stripped off his ruined kilt and tunic, tossing them onto the fire in the hearth. They were standing at the window, looking out over the remaining crops when the water arrived.

Robbie lowered his big body into the huge wooden tub and groaned with relief. He scrubbed away the evidence of the fire, the water turning a dirty gray as his skin became visible.

He had stepped out of the tub and was drying himself by the fire when the overwhelming urge to make love with him consumed her. She needed to know he was all right. Needed to hold him and needed to be held by him.

She crossed to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind, letting her mouth wander over his spine. “Robbie,” she whispered when she felt his shudder.

Robbie turned and scooped her up into his arms before laying her gently on the big bed. He gazed at her as she lounged on her back, her short hair spread out around her face.

She let out a small sigh when he began to kiss her gently, searching out all the sensitive spots along her jaw and neck. She moved against him, desperate for the intimacy he could give her, disappointed when he denied her.

“I need to do this slowly,” he whispered.

Nodding, she simply looped her arms around his shoulders and hung on. She understood his request for restraint. He was as desperate as she was for reassurance and for comfort.

Jocelyn let him take his time even as her blood began to boil for him. He smoothly removed her dress and sent his mouth on a southward journey. He lifted her to his lips and caressed her with his tongue, grinding the very tip of it against her swollen clit until she came apart, crying out his name. He used his tongue and lips to lap up her cream, loving her gently with his mouth until she shattered for him once more.

Very slowly, he rose over her and entered her, her body soft and accepting. She could feel the tremors of need running through his body as he moved unhurriedly. He laid his forehead against hers, his long hair falling around them, cocooning them together.

Slipping her fingers down the length of his spine, she planted her feet on the mattress and lifted her ass to deepen the angle at which he was sliding into her. His cock thickened slightly in her and he began panting. “Lass, I’m close, loving.”

She tightened around him, trying to increase the friction for him. His pace gradually quickened until he throbbed within her, bathing her womb with his seed. He collapsed onto his side and pulled her close as he caught his breath.

She ran her fingers through his hair in what she hoped was a soothing fashion and was pleased when he turned to press his lips into her palm. They didn’t speak. No words were needed. They lay together quietly until their heated bodies began to cool and Robbie sat up.

“I need to go address the men,” he said softly. “You will go to Will?”

She nodded as she pulled her dress back over her head. “Try not to worry, Robbie. I will do my best for him.”

Robbie smiled at that. “I will not worry overly much,” he said. “William has an angel looking after him.”

She smiled back before reaching out to cup his cheek.

She left him to dress and made her way to Will’s rooms. She knocked before she entered and found Sarah wiping Will’s clammy brow with a cool cloth. Will was tossing restlessly on the bed, moaning in his sleep.

Sarah looked up at her tearfully. “I know not what to do to ease him,” she said.

“Talk to him,” Jocelyn replied, laying a hand on his forehead. He was still cool, and she was relieved, even though she knew that, if he survived the night, he would surely contract the fever on the morrow.

The women continued to minister to him until the evening meal was served. Rubbing her forehead worriedly, Jocelyn sighed and dismissed Sarah. “Return at nightfall. You will sit with him then, while I am with Robbie. I will come and relieve you in the morning.”

The door closed quietly behind Sarah as she left. Jocelyn sat by Will’s side, soothing his burns as best she could until he opened his eyes. His eyes were shadowed with terrible pain, but he seemed lucid. “Jocelyn?” he whispered.

“Aye, Will. I am here,” she said, leaning close so he didn’t have to turn his head to see her.

“Am I going to die?” he asked, his voice unable to rise over a soft groan.

“Not if I have anything to do about it,” she vowed, touching the back of his hand.

Will blinked his eyes, clearly trying to focus on her. “What of my brothers?” he queried.