Highland Seasons, page 5
The healer smiled. “The lower pitch will serve ye better, especially if ye speak softly. Dinna be as gentle with him as ye have in the past. ’Twould help if yer hands were rougher.”
“’Tis easily done. Annie has set the maids to making soap. If I help them, the lye will do what’s needful, and quickly.” The Brodie lady would welcome another pair of hands to help with the onerous chore.
“Go on with ye, then. Ah, wait a wee. What shall I call ye?”
“Janet. Call me Janet. ’Tis a common enough name for a lass.”
“Soap,” the healer muttered. She closed her eyes and sniffed. “Does he ken yer scent?”
“I…perhaps. I kenned my husband’s and hated it.”
“Of course ye did. He was forced on ye. Ye had every reason to hate him.” She rested her chin on her hand for a moment. “We must find something that will give ye—give Janet—a scent all her own. An herb or spice rubbed into yer clothes might serve. Something pleasant or something strong?”
“I dinna want him to be drawn to Janet’s scent.”
The healer grinned as Ella pushed off from the wall with her elbows. “I’ll make certain of that.”
15 August, 1411
Ella led Calum along the path through the nearly empty bailey, gravel crunching under their boots. With most of the keep’s residents either inside preparing the great hall for the Marymas feast or out of the keep taking part in family celebrations or hunting, the healer had agreed it would be quiet enough there if she didn’t take him far and was careful. To her, the brilliant afternoon sunshine seemed an odd counterpoint to the darkness Calum had lived in for three sennights. Though he couldn’t see it, she hoped the change in his surroundings and the fresh air would help speed his recovery.
“We’re near the stables,” he suddenly remarked, lifting his head in its direction. “I smell horses.”
Startled, Ella nodded, then remembered to speak in Janet’s low, clipped tones. Calum had suffered ringing in his ears since the battle. Just before they came outside, the healer had removed the packing from them that muffled sound, worrying Ella. She had relied on it to help alter her voice, but the healer had insisted it come out. “Aye, we are. What else do ye smell?” She hoped the onions in her pocket continued to mask her own scent. She’d rubbed their juice on her hands and even chewed on wild onion stems to keep her own hidden behind something unpleasant. Likely he’d gotten used to the onion scent around her and knew she wasn’t asking about herself. She hoped by the time they ended this deception she would not be permanently stained with the odor.
“Something acrid…woodsmoke,” Calum told her. “The blacksmith’s forge.”
“We’re approaching it. How did ye ken?” The forge was still, lacking on this feast day the clang of the smith’s hammer on his anvil. The healer had agreed to this foray because the bailey would be more quiet than usual. She wanted to know if Calum’s hearing had improved.
Calum remained silent for a few moments as they walked farther. “My life depends on what I notice around me,” he told her. “The iron has a tang that I taste as well as smell…and I felt the heat from the banked forge as we neared it.”
“I did no’,” she told him. What else did he notice that she failed to discern?
“I’ve lived in this keep most of my life,” he added. “I can find my way around this bailey blindfold…” He stopped suddenly, stiffened and sucked in a breath.
Ella laid her free hand on her heart, pity for him welling up at his words. He would hear it in her voice, so she took a breath and tried encouragement. “Aye, ye can, Calum, very well. Yer senses are undimmed by yer time indoors.”
“I am…I was a Brodie scout,” he said, turning his face aside as though staring off into space while recalling the battle that had made him an invalid these past weeks. “One of the best. What am I, if I can no’ longer be what I was?”
Ella wanted to hold him, to reassure him, but knew she had no answer to give him. If he wasn’t acting out in frustration over his enforced blindness, he fretted over his future, his place in the clan. She reached for something to lighten his mood. “Ye need no’ think to become a bard—ye dinna have the voice for it,” she told him in a teasing tone. As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. Would Calum realize Janet had never seen him drunk and singing drinking songs with other men, but Ella had?
His brow furrowed, telling her she had his attention. Calum’s lips tightened, then twisted, one side quirking up in a hard fought attempt at a smile.
Relieved he didn’t seem to have made the connection, Ella couldn’t help smiling back. If his sense of humor was returning, he truly was getting better.
Then his hands curled into fists. “If ye dinna take this wrapping from around my head, I’ll do it myself. I canna bear this darkness any longer.”
She grabbed his wrists and held them down by his sides, using her weight against his strength. “Ye will no’!” She knew he could break her grip with little effort, but she had to prevent him. “The healer said yer eyes must remain covered—both of them—if ye wish to regain yer sight.”
“What sight?” he snarled. “She is blinding me as surely as that shattered sword did.”
“A steel splinter went deep into yer left eye. She told ye, what one eye does, they both do, so to let yer wound heal, ye canna try to use the other.” Ella released his wrists and placed a hand on his arm, still heavily muscled despite his forced inactivity. “Ye were out of yer head with fever for days—“
“What? The healer said ’twas mild.”
“She sought to reassure ye. And the fever is done. So ye think all else is healed as well. But ’tis too soon. Do ye truly wish to lose yer eye?”
Calum was silent for a long moment before his shoulders dropped. “Nay,” he bit out, defeated. “A blind scout is worthless, and a half blind man fares little better. If I am to be useful as a warrior…”
“Ye have been so patient,” she said, cutting him off, and wishing she could do as he asked and reveal his gaze. She missed the way he looked at her. She heard the fear in his voice he struggled to hide. How he must long for the sight of blue skies…and everything else. “Ye can tolerate waiting a wee more.”
He pressed his full lips together, then spoke. “If at the end, the reward is being able to see y…”
The abrupt end to his sentence made Ella study his face—as much as she could see for the bandages, her heart in her throat. Did he know her? After a moment, she rejected the thought. If he did, why would he continue to play along with her ruse? Still, once the healer removed the coverings from his eyes, how would seeing her again as Ella affect him? How angry would he be to know she was Janet? The tension in his jaw told her she’d only added to his misery today. “I am sorry. I did no’ mean to make ye feel worse.”
“I ken it, lass,” he finally said. “’Tis no’ yer fault the Lowlanders fight with poorly forged blades.”
She encouraged him to move with a light tug on his arm. “Ye were unlucky to be so near to one that shattered,” she said as they walked along. “But,” she added as his fists clenched yet again, “ye were lucky to have made it home from the battle so quickly, and to be under the care of the Brodie healer. She saved yer life. She may well have saved yer sight. I hope so.”
“No’ half so much as I.”
She squeezed his hand in sympathy. “We need to go in soon.” She hesitated, then deliberately brightened her tone. “The Marymas feast is taking place this eve. Everyone is expected to attend. Ye, too.” How she wanted him to be able to enjoy the celebration, to spend time with his friends, to laugh. She tensed, waiting for his response.
“Marymas? Already? How long have I been confined to that chamber?”
Ella sighed and walked on. He kept pace with her easily, despite the uneven ground. “Only a fortnight and a few days, Calum.”
“So I’m to attend a feast I canna see and make a fool of myself trying to eat it?”
“I will be there to help ye.”
He stopped again, head tilted back, face to the sky.
Whether in frustration or despair, behind the bandages, his eyes were probably squeezed shut. She could only imagine what kind of battle must be raging inside this proud man. She tried, but no amount of tugging would move him from this spot.
“Calum!” As Janet, she felt free to say his name more sharply than Ella ever would. “I’ve much to do before this eve. Will ye take me inside, please?” If his sense of humor failed, his sense of duty rarely did.
He took a breath and turned toward her. “Aye.”
Relieved that he was moving, Ella guided him toward the keep’s main door. Then her foot slipped on a patch of mud. She cried out, but before she fell to the ground, Calum scooped her up. He held her close against his chest, his arms solid supports across her back and behind her knees. Sudden heat coursed through her, whether from Calum’s body or her own embarrassment, she couldn’t say.
“Are ye hurt…Janet?”
Heart pounding, she shook her head, then remembered to speak. “Thanks to ye, Calum, nay. Ye saved me from falling. How did ye ken where I was?”
“I always ken where ye are.” He started walking forward, still carrying her.
Ella shivered at the deep undertone of his voice rumbling through his chest and into her ribs, intensifying as it slipped deeper into her body. His words seemed to carry a promise she hoped for but dared not name.
But nay! Thanks to her altered voice and scent, he thought she was Janet, not Ella. How true was his love for her if he could speak so of Janet? She thought he loved her and her alone, yet it seemed he was no better than any of the men in her life. Faithless. Determined to have their way with any woman in reach. “Ye can put me down,” she told him, guilt and anger stealing her enjoyment of his nearness. She must look ridiculous, being rescued by a blind man, no matter how good it felt to be held secure in his arms. No one else would know that angst filled her, but anyone could see them. Even now, the quiet bailey was too public a place for such a display.
“Are ye certain ye can remain standing?”
His tone was teasing, but his touch betrayed his concern, his hand on her back stroking up and down. He meant to soothe her, she knew, but his touch set her blood to singing. Yet he was flirting with Janet, not her. She fought down the feeling and took a breath. “Long enough to get inside, aye.” Where she would find more onions.
He stood her on her feet and took her arm without further comment, but with a frown that made her fear that he’d been affected by holding her, too. Needing a distraction, she hurried them up the steps to the keep’s heavy door and let him pull it open. Once he closed it behind them, his shoulders slumped and she realized he dreaded being confined indoors yet again.
She led him to the entrance to the great hall and paused. There was no one nearby. No one to call her by her name. She could remain Janet, at least for now. She didn’t know what she would do if someone did forget their ruse and call her Ella. Admit to it, she supposed, and deal with Calum’s reaction as she must.
“Take a breath,” she told him. So soon after being in his arms, it might be a risk to emphasize his sense of smell, but she was confident the festival preparations would cover her scent. “Tell me what ye sense.” His broad chest rose and fell, and watching him made her hungry to be held against it again. Even if only as Janet.
“People and hounds,” he said, his fierce expression smoothing into enjoyment. “And for the Marymas, bannocks. Lots of them.”
“And more?”
“The hearth fire burning, and…” He lifted his head, nostrils flaring while he took another breath.
He looked proud, strong and confident, despite the healer’s bandages covering his eyes and wrapping around his dark head. “Roasting meats, aye, and tarts from the kitchen,” he announced.
“I canna smell the pies, but all the rest, aye.”
“Ye said my senses are undimmed. And I told ye, I notice everything.” He turned his face to her. “I ken that Ella has been in my chamber, no’ ye.”
Ella froze. Nay, she’d been careful to keep the healer’s herbs on her any time she tended him. Then she realized he did think of Ella and Janet as two different women and warm relief flooded her, easing the ache in her chest.
“I ken her scent. I told the healer I didna want her there.”
“Perhaps ye only imagined…or something of her scent remains in the chamber from before the healer called me to ye.”
Without the bandages over his eyes, she expected his gaze would be locked with hers and her worries returned. Was he trying to tell her he knew—or at least suspected—who she really was? Could he truly find her scent among all the others in the keep?
“Perhaps.”
Yet, as he held her safe in his arms, he’d hesitated before calling her Janet. Was he playing with her? That, she would not allow. She’d been through too much to be any man’s plaything ever again.
“If she has been in yer chamber, ’twas not when I was present. And surely, she only means to help ye.” She summoned a chuckle. “What man would object to another beautiful lass caring for him?”
Calum’s mouth thinned and his fists clenched. “What good is beauty to a blind man? Can ye tell me that?”
His words hit her like a dirk to the heart. Was that all she meant to him? He saw only her beauty, but not who she was inside?
Nay, she would not accept that. His fear and frustration had set those resentful words spewing from his mouth. He’d pursued her from the moment he’d met her. He cared for her. He’d made his feelings for her plain. She had held him off, certain that she was not ready to be close to any man, even one who interested her, and who pursued her as consistently as Calum did.
Perhaps it was time to end this pretense. This false face she wore around him. She wanted to tell him the truth, but the great hall was no place for this conversation. This confrontation, if that was what it would become. She could not let him fall in love with Janet. It would hurt her too much. She knew that was selfish. She’d denied his advances again and again, but she did love him. She couldn’t bear to lose him. He might be angry at her deception, but the Calum she knew would soon get past it.
Or would he? After succumbing to such a terrible injury, was he still the Calum she knew?
Who would Calum become if, as he feared, he’d lost half his sight? If he could not be the warrior he was before Harlaw, would he still be the man she loved? Friends had warned her he might be changed. Different. But she believed, deep inside, he would be the same man he’d always been, and he would adjust. Iain would see that he had an important place in the clan, no matter what. She would help.
So she must wait until the healer determined it was time to reveal his eye—and his future. The Marymas feast was a time to celebrate the Assumption, the coming harvest, and to prepare for the long winter ahead. It was also a celebration of good fortune. Of miracles. Ella hoped for two—that the love Calum once held in his heart for her remained, and that once his eyes were no longer covered, he would see on her face, in her eyes, the love she had hidden from him for too long.
Calum didn’t know how much longer he could stand this. The enforced blindness was bad enough, but worse were these feelings for a woman who was not Ella.
Or was she? There were times he was convinced Ella attended him. At times, the onions Janet favored failed to completely mask her natural scent, and though rougher than Ella’s, her touch seemed otherwise the same, even if the voice was altered.
Altered. Deliberately?
He’d held this woman in his arms minutes ago, more closely than he’d ever been able to hold Ella. He’d nestled her body against his chest, her heat warming his hands. Surely, he could not be this attracted to any other woman but his Ella.
Was Janet a mummery cooked up between Ella and the healer to circumvent his wish that Ella not be involved in his care?
Or was he days too late in that concern? She had been at his bedside when he awoke. Had she cared for him until he objected? Had she cared for him as a mother cares for a sick child? He couldn’t bear the idea of it.
He was a warrior. A scout. And Ella was the woman he loved. The one that he wanted for his wife. That he wanted to bed, damn it. How was he to arouse her to accept him as a man if she’d cared for him while he was unconscious and helpless to control his body?
And what harm had he just done by his angry words? What good was beauty to a blind man, indeed? Yes, Ella was beautiful, but he loved all of her, not only her appearance. Her beauty encompassed who she was, how she cared for others—even for him, perhaps—and how she had fought for and protected herself at Ross.
Yet he’d told the truth. His angry outburst exposed his pain if he didn’t get his sight back. If he lost his eye, his place in the clan, he’d have to give her up, too. She deserved to be with someone whole. The thought tore at his guts. He wanted her, but only if he remained the man he once was—with both eyes. He had to keep his distance until he knew who he would be, the warrior or the half-blind man.
But then, why the deception of Janet? If Ella was indeed pretending to be Janet, he didn’t know what he would do.
He was confused and he knew it. And tired from the walk outside, which angered him again. How could he fight for his clan if a walk around the bailey exhausted him?
“I will return to my chamber now,” he announced, not even certain Janet remained with him. She’d been silent since his angry comment.
“I’ll take ye.” Her voice had taken on a gruff edge. Had he hurt her feelings, then? Another reason to think this was Ella, not some fictional Janet.
“Nay, ye needna. Stay and enjoy the feast. I can find my way.”
“Third door—”
“On the right. I ken it.” He moved away without another word. He was at a loss for how to deal with Janet…or Ella…at this time. The healer had to take these bandages from his eyes. The deception they practiced would be impossible. And he would know whether he had two good eyes and the future he had worked for his entire life, or would be forgotten among the clan’s crippled and ill, struggling to make use of any skills he retained.
