Chapter 28

The day passed in a blur of activity. We set up the sweating tents and kept the fires kept burning well into the night. The stink of camphor and other medicinal herbs hung like a fog over the village. Once the afflicted had gone through the tents, we pulled down the structures and washed them thoroughly before reconstructing them so non-infected people could use the treatment preventatively. A temporary quarantine was placed on the town. To prevent the spread of the fever, the townsfolk were confined to their borders for the next seven days.

Calum and I were the only exceptions to the quarantine, so we took extra precautions to ensure that we would not carry the fever back to Stormway. We bound up our hair in linen caps and wore thick leather aprons and gloves. We stopped our nostrils with cotton and wrapped heavy cloths over our mouths. It was hot, sweaty, disturbing work; but it was vital to ensure that the sickness did not spread.

While the afflicted were purging the fever from their bodies, an open-air campsite was established in a nearby field. Families of the sick were to sleep out of doors for the next week, the fresh air ensuring proper ventilation that would keep the sickness from the damp quarters of their homes. Wind was our best talisman. A smattering of lean-tos were erected, nestled against the protective branches of large trees and spaced out so that one household was not too close to another.

Before I could register the time, the sun slipped under the horizon and darkness fell. Still, we worked. Someone only dismissed me when the moon was high in the sky and the stars dazzled against the velvety backdrop of night.

Achingly tired, sticky with sweat, grime, and dead on my feet, I shuffled from one of the sweating tents toward a lean-to. A town elder pointed it out, saying that he had built it for Calum and I. It had not been our plan to stay overnight, but the demands of the day kept us from leaving for Stormway in a timely fashion. Both of us had refused multiple times to leave before the work was complete.

Calum was already at our campsite, sitting on an upturned log at the mouth of the lean-to. He stared into the dancing flames of a lantern placed on another log before him. His eyes were unfocused, distant. Lost to exhaustion and the late hour. The bright lantern light flickered and danced across his sharp features, distorting them. His dark hair dripped as if he had just come from a swim. I noticed he wore a fresh change of clothes. He had swapped his green silk suit for a loose, billowing shirt and navy pants. He wore no boots and idly wiggled the toes of his bare foot in the grass.

I watched him for a while, impressed by his tenacity and willingness to serve. He had performed selflessly. His natural charm and humor put everyone at ease and brought much-needed levity to the day's work. It was strange to see him so quiet, so inside himself. I hoped I had not dragged up too many terrible memories this morning with talk of his family.

Stepping to the side of the lean-to and out of the light of the lantern I gave him more space. Carefully, I shucked off my apron, leaving it on the ground to air out. Then I removed my face wrap and nose cotton. Pulling the cap from my head, my braid flopped down onto my back. The cool touch of the night air on my forehead and neck was a tonic of its own. I shook off my gloves, leaving them on top of the heap of discarded clothing. It was a sorry lump of grey fabric in the grass.

Knocking lightly on the side of the lean-to, I announced my arrival. Calum startled, his eyes slowly leaving the hypnosis of the flame.

"My lady," he said, inclining his head.

"I've never seen you so serious," I said, sweeping my hair over my shoulder, undoing the tight braid. "I am sorry to disturb you."

Calum offered me a sly grin that did not entirely dissipate the fog of distraction. "Dearest Lairdess, you know I am happy to play your fool at any moment. Give the word and I shall entertain you."

I waved him off, shaking my head. "Please, don't. I am not sure I would survive any amusement." A massive yawn overtook me, proving my point. As I sank toward the ground to sit for the first time in hours, Calum stood up, offering me his log.

"Keep it," I said through another yawn. "I may as well lay down right here and sleep for eternity. Sitting sounds too... energetic." I could feel the curve of my back hunching me forward in an unladylike crouch.

Calum chuckled. "I'd offer to drive us back tonight, but it's almost one in the morning."

"Don't even think about it. I'm not so high and mighty that I can't spend a night out under the stars." Turning my head, I observed two simple bedrolls under the lean-to's roof. "I'm so tired, in fact, that those bedrolls look cozier than any mattress I've ever slept on."

Calum chuckled.

"Thank you," I said, keeping my eyes trained on the beds. My exhaustion and gratitude were so great that I might have cried if I had to look at him. "Thank you for helping me today."

Without words, he reached down and rested his hand on my shoulder, the gesture communicating enough.

"I know it could not have been easy. Not after what you told me about your mother."

"Eilean," he sighed, "I am happy to be of use. I prefer to be useful to you."

Nodding, I looked at him then, reading in the tightness of his eyes that he did not wish me to go further.

"There is a woman over yonder serving a questionable looking stew. Are you too tired to eat or hungry enough to tempt fate?" He asked, removing his hand from my shoulder.

Stifling another yawn, I nodded. "Bravery and craving are hard to tell apart right now, the latter is goading on the former. I will try the mystery stew."

"Good." He grunted. "There is a shallow river behind the tree over there. If you want to bathe. I'd recommend you do so, just for safety. Bess packed you a bag. I placed it there." He pointed to a small satchel at the base of one bed.

"I do not deserve her," I murmured as a flutter of warmth thrummed in my chest. Her foresight would give me a more comfortable night.

Without further discussion Calum stood and left our camp, stalking off through the distorted and warped shadows the many fires and torches created across the open landscape. I crawled toward the bag and opened the flap, seeing a fresh change of clothes that smelled of mint and rosemary — not sweat and medicine. There was also a small bar of piney soap and some linens for washing.

"Oh, Bess, you miracle," I said to the night air.

I made my way to the river, the water shimmering silver in the moonlight. The night air was quite brisk, so I stripped off and waded into the freezing water hastily before I could second-guess myself. I scrubbed hard and fast, sluicing water and suds through my hair with numb fingers. My teeth chattered as I submerged myself for a final rinse. As I toweled off and dressed in clean clothes, my body warmed up in a way that seemed faster than normal. I was soon drowsy, relaxed, and outrageously hungry. I would have eaten anything, even a mystery stew. I made my way back to the campsite, leaving my soiled clothes by the river to air out overnight. It was wiser not to touch them with my clean hands. I would pack them up in the morning with gloves.

Calum was still away, no doubt doing his best to estimate the time I needed to wash. As I wrung out my hair, I appraised the bedrolls, blushing somewhat. I was too tired to demand separate accommodations. One night spent sleeping side by side with a man was not a crime. Heaven knew I had already done worse. My earlier anxieties about traveling alone with a man were long forgotten, erased by exhaustion.

Finally, Calum returned with two large, roughly hewn bowls of stew. The steam floated off the top of them with fragrant temptation. There was a massive heel of bread submerged in each dish.

"That doesn't smell questionable at all," I commented, reaching out greedily for my bowl. It smelled like fat and meat and potatoes. Comforting, homey smells.

"She let me try a taste and then graciously allowed me to suggest some slight seasoning suggestions," Calum said, frowning at his bowl. "Imagine a cook not having cumin."

I laughed at him, glad that the day spent tending to the sick had not dampened his impertinence. As there were no spoons, I drank from the side of the bowl, enjoying the burn of a hot, if somewhat bland, meal.

"No salt, either, I take it," I croaked, clearing my throat after scalding it with my hasty sip. I was too hungry to let it cool.

"Next time, we tell Bess to pack the spices," he said, gnawing on the bread.

We ate in silence, cleaning the bottom of our bowls with the bread and then setting the dishes outside of the lean-to stacked next to our discarded protective clothing. Someone would come by later and collect both the dinner wear and the linens for burning.

"Well, that was better than any feast I've ever had," Calum remarked, rubbing his stomach.

Laughing, I shook my head. "How do you do it?"

"What?"

I gestured toward him, indicating his casual ease. His natural frivolity. "Live, laugh, tease? I won't bring it up again, I promise, but you've endured so much, and... well, you make me feel like a bitter child, moping and whining about her annoying family."

Calum cocked his head, a melancholy smile slanting across his face. "It's not always easy," he admitted. "But, I did almost die." He gestured to his wooden leg. "I spent weeks in and out of fever. When I woke up and realized I had not died, it felt like someone had given me a second chance. I could sulk about a lost leg or I could laugh and buy the most ornate golden peg anyone ever saw."

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I considered his words. "That makes sense. In a peculiar way I feel as if you and Alex and Angus have given me my second chance. I'm trying to be better."

"For the record, you laugh a lot," he said with a warm smile. His cheeks crinkled and dark pools of his black eyes shimmered in the low light. "I think you could employ more teasing, but there is still time for perfection to find us all."

I rolled my eyes at his puffed-up bravado. "I do? Laugh, I mean."

"All the time."

"I had not noticed."

"Being aware is half the fun." He winked, looking momentarily young and carefree. "Try to stay in the present. It helps."

I smiled, recognizing the gesture and then smiling wider. Perhaps I was happier than I thought.

After a long yawn, Calum nodded to the bedrolls "I didn't know who to talk to about the sleeping arrangements," he said with an apologetic shrug.

I shook my head. "Three sides of this structure are wide open and there are two other camps six feet away. What could we get up to? Or are you implying you're good at keeping quiet?" Biting my lip, I almost barked out a laugh. "Was there booze in that stew?"

Calum blinked, stunned by my ribald suggestion. A slow, lazy grin unfurled and he said with a deep voice, "So you can tease."

Heart pounding and head a little blank, I replied blithely, "I have my moments."

His smile turned devious.

Deciding I was done with the conversation, I stood up from my seat on the ground and walked toward one bedroll. There was an old, faded quilt for a pillow and a woven mat with a thin straw mattress on top of it. A very heavy-looking blanket was folded at the foot of the makeshift bed. Laying down, I pulled the heavy blanket over me, comforted by its weight and warmth. It smelled like a barn, but the weave was tight and the wool thick. It would keep me plenty warm.

Calum removed his boot and then gestured to his wooden leg. "Do you mind?" He asked quietly.

"No," I whispered, not sure if I should look away as he unstrapped the elegantly carved leg. The gold filigree glimmered in the lantern light. Calum extinguished the light and moved gracefully from his perch on the log to his bedroll. The strength and agility of his arms were apparent even in the darkness.

After he situated himself under his covers, a stillness fell over us.

The sounds of crackling fires, the inaudible murmur of others talking, crickets, and other nighttime sounds rose to a loud crescendo. It made my ears buzz. The din of nature surprised me.

"I always forget how loud it is outside," Calum remarked as if reading my thoughts. "I couldn't sleep for weeks at the start of the war. The owls were too loud. Have you ever slept outside?"

"No," I grunted, wriggling against what felt like a massive rock under my shoulder blade.

"You're in for a treat," he said, his voice lilting with laughter.

His amusement assured me this would be no treat.

"If you can, cover your head to keep it warm. I meant to tell you not to get your hair wet."

Sitting up, I rummaged in the bag at the foot of my bed for the last remaining towel and used it to wrap my wet hair around my head like a coronet. It was a minor change, but I felt a touch warmer.

"Should I prepare for anything in particular?" I asked, snuggling back down, trying to avoid the rock.

"It will be cold," he answered. "The worst is the hour or two before dawn. It always overcame me with the most violent shivering."

After a moment of silence, he laughed. "Never slept outside. I guess you're not such a rube after all."

Huffing out a laugh, I tucked the blanket under my chin.

"I'm sorry I said that earlier."

"It doesn't matter," I said, turning on my side to face him. I could make out his profile against the darkness.

"It does matter. I am sworn to you. You should know nothing but my respect."

"We are friends," I said directly, testing the waters. It felt like we were friends. I hoped we were friends. "If I can't allow for some slight joking at my expense, then we are doomed."

The shape of Calum's profile changed. He now looked to me through the dark. "Do you mean that? We are friends?"

"Of course." No one had ever formally been my friend except Alex. I supposed Bess and Angus counted as friends now, too. A warm tingle danced across my chest, and I smiled. I had friends.

"Friend and liege lord, I like that." I could hear Calum's smile in the lightness of his words.

"Is this like the war?" I asked.

"The company is far superior. You smell better, too."

"I mean it." I wasted my glower in the darkness.

He chuckled. "Yes and no. The campsite has the same feel, but there are far fewer people and much less drunken shouting. Today's adventures in the healing tents with the blood and the puss... it brought up some unpleasant memories."

"I am sorry, again."

"Don't be."

A long moment passed, fractured by the hooting of an owl. My eyelids and body felt heavy, and I felt myself relax into sleep.

"Now that we are friends, can I ask you a question? I've been dying to know something." Calum asked, his voice a whisper.

Alert, my eyes shot open. "What?"

"Do you love him?"

The question cut through the air and dampened the sounds of chatter and night around us. Everything seemed to still, yet the air thrummed with a potent charge.

"Excuse me?" I breathed.

"Lord Leslie, do you love him?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"I'm curious."

"Why?"

"Humor me. I want to be prepared in case he rides up in the middle of the night and calls me out for sharing a lean-to. This shelter won't offer me much protection, so I need to be ready to fight if he calls my honor into question."

Laughing, my head rolled back across the blanket that served as a pillow. "You have the most ridiculous imagination — "

"If another man, a dashing, handsome, charming man, I might add, was sleeping in a distant village with the woman I loved, I'd be jealous too."

"You're imagining things. Alex? Jealous?" I ignored his other suggestion. That Alex might feel something for me.

It was a pity that Calum was no fool.

"Does he not love you?" He asked with a note of astonishment in his question.

"How would I know?" I had never thought about it. Never asked myself what Alex might feel. What I might feel in return. Want, need, attraction; I was familiar with those emotions regarding Alex. Maybe a flutter here and there, a warmth in my chest when he smiled — but Calum's suggestion was something else.

Calum turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "Are you actually playing dumb right now?"

"I — What — How would I know if Alex was in love with me or not?" As I said them, I couldn't believe the words were coming from my mouth. Thank goodness the cover of darkness hid my hot cheeks.

"You have to know that he's in love with you."

"I don't have to know anything. You're being ridiculous!" I scowled at the dark outline that was Calum.

"Show me a man that abandons their lands in the dead of winter to sail — unannounced, I might add, for 'a better surprise' — with his entire estate's wealth and thousands of men for a friend and I'll show you a liar. Men are... flamboyant in their love."

Now regretting the darkness, I contorted my face into a withering look. "Did you not fall to your knees in a banquet hall and pledge your life and limb to a stranger? By your own suggestion, you are in love with me. Is this your confession, Calum? Are you going to tell me you burn for me?" My tone was derisive. It was easier to tease than it was to take a single second of this sincerely.

Calum shook his head, a twinkle of moonlight catching in his dark eyes, and he laughed. "I could, you know. It would be easy, I think, to fall in love with you."

I went very, very still.

"You must know that I admire you greatly. But I could never win your heart, you surrendered it long before I met you." There was lewdness in his words, no taunt or suggestion. He simply told the truth from his perspective.

"How did we get here?" I marveled at the absurdity of the subject. I had never talked to anyone like this. Defining and discussing love. That was the pastime of silly courtier girls in a world long lost to war and poverty. "How does anyone know they're in love, anyway?"

The question slipped out by accident, and as it did, incomparable sadness washed over me. I laid back down on the pillow, feeling strangely defeated.

"You just... know," Calum said kindly. "You don't have to think about it or worry about it. It just is. Love is where you feel at home, secure."

I wondered if anyone had ever loved me in my entire life. I certainly never experienced a feeling like Calum was describing. Every relationship I'd known had been a barter between expectation and disappointment. A dark maw opened up inside of me, threatening to eat me alive. I felt as if I was teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump. But there was something there, holding me back. A warmth, a stillness. A golden, happy tug on my wrist, holding me back, keeping me safe. Was I loved?

More unnerving was the natural next question: did I even know how to love? I shuddered, balking as the darkness turned slimy and cold in my chest. It was something I did not want to confront.

"This is a silly conversation," I said, dismissing my dread as I grew too uncomfortable in my reflections.

"I enjoy feeling silly, so delight me further," Calum teased. "Am I to understand that you and the perfect Lord Leslie do not have some sort of agreement?"

I yawned, wanting very much to sleep and avoid this particular line of questioning. But I was also curious. Perhaps this was how friends talked. "We might have. Once. Before."

"What happened?"

I didn't miss the note of surprise in Calum's voice. "The war, we grew up... he went away. Why are you so interested in this?" I turned my head and squinted into the dark, trying to make out any expression at all.

Calum was on his back, arms crossed beneath his head. "Because I can help. Am I not indebted to your service?"

"I don't remember matchmaking in your vows," I said flatly.

Calum laughed. "Have you at least kissed him?"

"My god!" I breathed, wishing the ground would swallow me up.

"That's a yes." He said, sounding pleased. "Is that why you had such a moony look on your face this morning in the courtyard? Did you skip breakfast with the rest of us for a romantic tryst?"

"Go to bed, Calum."

"Another yes. Excellent. You're doing better than I thought." He paused and then turned to face me. "Not to say I didn't have faith in you."

I huffed and thought about telling him just how close Alex and I had been before the war just to shut him up, but I had the sneaking suspicion he would want all the details. This was already an agonizing enough conversation. Though there was a spark of light in my chest that was delightfully entertained.

"One day, my lady, you will not be afraid of your heart. If only you knew how freely you already give it away."

Who could respond to that? It felt like a punch to the gut. It was both wonderful and horrifying to be seen so clearly. I armored myself in deflection and teasing once again. "Oh, so you do love me."

"You are a lovely woman," Calum said, without hesitation. "Stop holding yourself back. I promise you, Eilean, in a million years Lord Leslie would never refuse you."

"You have not considered my feelings. What if I do no love him?"

"Then I would spend the rest of my life trying to believe you and, while it would be tragic, I would then be free to take you as my queen and we could rule the Islands as emperors or gods."

With the return of Calum's mocking lilt, coupled with his extravagant plan, I knew we were wading out of the topic at last. "You are absurd, you know that?"

"Absurdity is fun," he countered.

"Quite."

"You're never going to tell me, are you?" He whispered.

"Tell you what?" I asked archly.

"Impossible woman! Fine. You win this round, fair lady. Be on your guard. One day, I will unlock the secrets of your heart, and then, together, we can build the life you dream of."

I bit my lip, stopping myself from suggesting that you had to have hope to have a dream. These war years were only a stolen moment, a rip in the natural order where a woman could become Laird and rule the largest island with little recourse. It would not last forever.

"Goodnight," I offered, ending the conversation. I turned onto my other side and faced the open air beyond our shelter.

"Sleep well, my lady," Calum said.

I hoped, as my eyes closed, that I only imagined the disappointment in his voice.