Demon Laird (Legacy of the Mist Clans) (16 page)

“I have seen this before
and it has nothing to do with grain.”

His arms tightened around her.

A shadow moved at the door. Lia looked up, but her fingers continued to stroke Ronan’s silky hair.

Aidan
sprinted toward her, his long stride closing the distance rapidly. “Is he all right?”

“Aye,” Lia said softly. “I just need your help getting him upstairs.
We need to get him into bed.”

Aidan
blinked at her in surprise and hope sparked in his blue eyes. “Aye, lass.”

****

Although Ronan knew he needed to sleep, he did not wish to give her up. Lia had not run from him like everyone else. She did not fear the Demon Laird.

You have an illness…

She had spoken the words he had most needed to hear. An illness could be defeated. This was no longer a superstitious fear, no longer in the realm of God and the Church, he was once again simply a flesh-and-blood man.

Aidan
hauled his arm over his shoulders and pulled Ronan to his feet. Ronan’s arm tightened around Lia as she stepped to support him on the other side. The woman from an enemy nation had suddenly become his best and only hope. Ronan thanked the saints for her.

He battled
to maintain his wits, even though the desire to sleep became overwhelming with each step to his solar. By the time they got him to his bed, reality blurred, but he continued to fight with all of his might. His attention locked on Lia’s soft voice as she spoke with his brother, though he could not understand her words. They settled him into bed, and he managed to latch on to Lia’s hand as she pulled away.

“Nay,” he said, his voice a bare whisper.

“’Tis all right, Ronan,” she murmured, her fingers once again gently stroking his face and hair. “Rest now.”

“Ye promised.” He tugged on her hand
, even though the effort was akin to moving a mountain.

“I
know. I will rest too.”

“Nay,” he replied and tugged again. “Beside me.”

She took the chair at his bedside. Ronan ground his teeth in frustration, but his body would no longer obey him and his eyelids grew too heavy. He closed his eyes and once again felt her fingers gently stroking through his hair as the soft sound of her humming carried him to a place of solace.

****

Lia fought back her own tears as she stared at Ronan’s hand still clinging to her own. Damnation, she was still weary, and it made it so much more difficult to control her emotions. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, noting it shook terribly. He had reached out to her for help but only as a drowning man would latch onto a rope. He wouldn’t care if the devil’s own sister held the other end, only that it was there and would save him from the agony, the pain and terror of his nightmares, the horrific memories of what he had survived, the fear and rejection of the clan who had once loved him.

She again found herself admiring the graceful planes of his handsome face.
She recalled the stories his people had told her of the laird he once was. He had so much to live for. Now she realized, in part, how he had found the courage to do the impossible and escape from his captors, escape and survive. But the hope had been stolen from him. He faced a battle unlike any other, the battle not only for survival but for his own heart and mind.

She had seen men fall for lesser reasons.

****

Aidan watched an odd change come over the healer and it worried him. He stepped forward and crouched next
to her chair. “Lassie,” he said softly. “Pray, what is wrong?”

Her eyes
, liquid with tears, locked him in her gaze. “I cannot abide the pain he is suffering. Aidan, I understand so much more now.”

Hope blossomed within Aidan. Ronan had
treated Lia with only contempt and mistrust, but despite that, she battled on. Ronan’s plight had impacted her powerfully. Now Aidan witnessed Lia’s courage and dedication.

“I do not understand why his people did not fear him before,”
she said.

“Before?” he asked in confusion.

“Before the English persecuted him. They should have been terrified of the Demon Laird because of his fits.”

Suddenly Aidan understood and shook his head. “Lassie, he has only suffered the worst of the fits since he returned
tae us.”

“Worst?”

“Aye. As a child, Ronan had blackouts. He told me ye witnessed at least one. His body locks and his visage reflects death. He doesna fall, but he canna move nor speak.”

She frowned at him. “Those are passive…
wait… Aidan, I have a feeling we are speaking of two different things.”

“He has had them since his youth
, but they were verra rare and we hoped he had outgrown them. Since reaching the age of majority, he only suffered three.” He paused and drew a deep breath. “Lia, I am no healer, but I firmly believe the fits he suffers now are due, at least in part, tae the head wound he received.”

“Head wound?”
She reached out and gently slid her hand under Ronan’s head. He did not stir. After a moment her eyes widened. “Blessed Mary, ’tis a wonder it didn’t kill him.”

H
e nodded. “Marta removed the stitches just after you arrived, but I fear he will have a permanent dent in his skull. We believe he suffered the injury when his horse was slain out from under him.”

Lia fell silent, staring at him. She rubbed her eyes.

“Lass, this can wait. Ye need tae rest.”

She shook her head with a stubbornness that didn’t surprise him. He couldn’t help himself as his lips tugged upward. She should have been born a
Scot. Although, looking at her auburn hair and sparkling hazel eyes, he would not be surprised if she had at least a bit of Scottish blood in her veins.

“The
head wound changed the manifestation of the illness,” she murmured.

“Pray pardon
, lass? Illness?”

“’Tis called the falling
-down sickness for reasons that are obvious. These blackouts, does Ronan complain of missing time afterward?”

“Aye,” Aidan said, nodding vigorously. “He appears as if lost in thought. We can call his name and he
doesna hear us. But after a moment, he returns and doesna ken what happened.”

She nodded as if expecting this. “I have treated a few other children in a similar circumstance. Some do indeed outgrow it. In a few others, I’ve seen the illness worsen and turn
to active fits.”

Aidan swallowed hard. “Please, lassie, can ye help him?”

“The fact the passive fits were rare but still existed after he came of age tells me he had succeeded in managing his illness even if he didn’t realize it at the time. This gives me hope, Aidan. ’Tis only because he suffered what no man should have to endure that I believe the manifestation of the illness changed.”

He wasn’t sure if he understood her explanation in its entirety but Aidan felt a huge weight slid
e from his shoulders. “If he managed his illness afore, he can do it again.”

“Aye, Aidan, and I believe I may know how
to help him do just that.”

“Praise be, I kenned ye be a gift from the Almighty.”

She blushed furiously and inclined her head toward his brother. “We shall leave him to be the judge of that.”

Aidan chuckled softly. “Lassie, ye too need
tae rest.”

“I will be fine, Aidan. Now that I understand this, I think it important that he not be left alone at all. I promised him.”

“Lia—”

“I’m not leaving him alone.”

“Verra well,” he said softly. “At least allow me tae fetch ye some food.”

“Now that sounds like a wonderful plan. While you are below stairs
, would you please fetch my journal? I need to study it in order to remember everything about the children I treated with this illness.”

“Aye, lassie.” He rose but hesitated and looked down at her. “Thank ye.”

She smiled up at him, but Aidan noted she still held Ronan’s hand in her lap, her fingers firmly entangled with his. “I just hope he can abide a Sassenach healer attending him.”

“Remember what I said
, lass. If my brother doesna see reason after today, I’ll make him see it.”

She laughed and he winked at her, striding for the door. For the first time since Ronan had been captured, Aidan’s hope for his brother and the clan’s future strengthened
in his heart.

For the first time since his escape
, Ronan did not awaken because of a nightmare. His heart did not threaten to jump out of his ribcage, and he did not fear to open his eyes, for this time he knew he would see the walls of his solar. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to wake up… normally.

He looked
to his left and suddenly understood why.

Lia slept in the chair next
to the bed, her fingers still entwined with his. Her rich auburn hair tumbled like streams of molten bronze around her shoulders. The dawn light growing in strength through the loophole fell on her face, and Ronan’s breath caught at the heavenly vision before him. Her expression was relaxed in sleep, and Ronan realized he had never taken the time to admire the bonny lass before him. Her skin, although not pale as a noblewoman’s, was unblemished, and he remembered it being as soft as silk to the touch.

Her nose was pert and dark eyebrows arched elegantly over well-shaped eyes. She had high cheekbones
, which added an artful elegance to her face and were a perfect counter to her jaw. He felt his lips tug upward as he remembered how her jaw took on such a stubborn set, especially in dealing with him. She had a strong jawline but one that remained feminine.

Ronan noted she wore only her chemise and one of his brats. The cloak was large enough
to wrap around her three times. She slept in the high-backed chair with her legs curled under her, resting her head against a beveled edge of the carved decoration that ran from the arm up the sides of the back and to the top. She was so tall that Ronan knew she was going to have a beastly time moving when she woke. Her neck would probably be screaming at her for the next two days. His thoughts brought to mind when he had held her in his arms, just after William died. He had been able to comfortably rest his cheek on the top of her head. He drudged through his memory but could not recall ever meeting a woman as tall as her. It was a fresh and unique experience for him.

Ronan’s da had been a tall, powerfully built man in his prime
, but two years before the age of majority, Ronan had outpaced him. Although his da had delighted in ribbing him about how gangly he was, his mum complained that he ate like a horse, and it seemed like overnight Ronan filled out.

O
n one rain-soaked day when they could do no work outside, the men had decided to alleviate their boredom by wrestling in the great hall—a common practice when the muck outside was over one’s ankles.

Ronan had first
wrestled against Aidan. His brother gave as good as he got, and Ronan was always hard-pressed to beat him. They typically traded victories equally. The one thing Ronan could not do was beat his father.

That day,
Ronan had pinned Aidan and was declared the victor. He rose, laughing, and held out his hand to help his brother to his feet. As the winner, he controlled the ring, and others would challenge him. He remembered swallowing hard when his father stepped forward. But the apprehension he always felt when wrestling against his da vanished when Ronan rose to his full height and realized he was not only taller, but now broader in shoulder and breadth of chest. His arms were thicker and his gut laid with muscle because of the tireless hours he had put in practicing with the claymore. His da opened his mouth as if to jest with him, but he snapped it shut and eyed his eldest son, his blue eyes smiling.

It was a hell of a contest. Both went after each other like two gladiators, neither giving an inch, neither willing
to admit defeat. At one point, Ronan had his da in an armlock and was afraid if he exerted any more pressure, he’d break his da’s arm. It had to be excruciating, but his da refused to yield. Although Ronan would never know how he managed, his da escaped the armlock and in a lightning-fast move, locked Ronan in a hold that threatened to flip him.

Somehow, Ronan found the strength
to not only resist the flip but to throw his da off balance. His da wasn’t the only one with fast reflexes. He never thought about what he was doing, he just did it. Ronan turned the tables, and in a heartbeat, he had his father on his back and pinned him. Ronan’s mind didn’t truly acknowledge what he had done until Ian declared him the winner.

He sat back, breathing hard, sweat rolling into his eyes and blinking as his da remained on the ground with his eyes closed
, trying to suck in some air. Those watching erupted in cheers like nothing Ronan had ever heard before. His da started laughing and hauled himself into a sitting position.