Chapter 13
The Enchanting Woman in his Bed
The sun drooped towards the horizon. Its rays left the heat of the day simmering on the stone walls of Aruam Castle. A fresh company of guards relieved those who had patrolled for twelve hours. Worn weary from the unusual heat, they stumbled from their posts, seeking the coolness only the bowels of a stone structure provided.
The sweltering temperatures made it unbearable inside Bronwyn’s office. With no ventilation to permit fresh air, he struggled to concentrate on the work at hand. His thoughts drifted to images of cool water and dampness of moss beneath a tree. The ink pen slipped from his grip. His clumsy fingers, swollen from the heat, pushed back his damp hair. A bead of sweat glided down his cheek to the rim of his chin, hung there a moment then fell to the paper below.
In an attempt to cool himself, he removed his vest, unfastened the top three buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. He appeared dishevelled, but no one would see. He planned to head to a cooler location as soon as he finished the last report in front of him.
He glanced at Isla curled up on a chair in the corner. She had spent the afternoon with Farlan. A short time ago, he delivered her to the office, so he could prepare for his evening patrol.
When Isla first arrived she had bounced around and talked non-stop about the horseback ride she, Farlan and Liam had taken along the Shulie River. For the past twenty minutes, she’d lain quiet and still. Bronwyn leant to get a better view of her face to see if she slept. She stared off into the distance as if mesmerized.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and picked up the pen. He tried to read the report, but his attention drifted. Forcing himself to focus, he struggled through the last page. He placed the report in a folder with several others.
He heard footsteps and looked up to see Riagan from the records office sashay in. She eyed Isla on the chair, but seeing no interest from the child, moved closer to him.
“Sergeant, are the reports ready?” She slipped behind the desk and leant against the edge, blocking his exit.
“I just finished.”
Riagan rested her hand on his shoulder. Seeing the opening in his shirt, she slid her fingers along the collar and down to his exposed chest. “It’s certainly warm today.”
He grabbed her hand. “Stop.”
“Did you say, don’t stop?” She moved closer and sat on his lap.
“Ahem.” Farlan stood in the middle of the office, watching.
As she rose, Riagan ran her fingers along his arm. “I wanted only the reports.”
Bronwyn thrust the collection of papers into her hand. He stared in confusion as she sauntered from the room.
Farlan looked at his friend with one eyebrow raised. “To say she’s interested would be an understatement.”
“I wish she’d leave me alone.”
“She might get the hint—eventually.” Farlan glanced at Isla. “Is she sleeping?”
“Resting. Riding must have tuckered her out.” Bronwyn straightened the pile of papers on his desk and placed his writing utensil in the holder.
Farlan knelt beside the hauflin. “Hey, Little Sprite.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle shake. “Isla.” He raised his voice to get her attention. When she didn’t respond, he shook her harder.
Bronwyn rushed to his side. “Why isn’t she responding?” He lifted Isla and supported her in a seated position.
Farlan put his hand on her forehead. “She’s burning up. Let’s remove her vest.” Between the two of them, they stripped off the dark blue jerkin.
“Isla?” He cupped his daughter’s face. “Can you hear me?”
She remained still, her eyes gaping into space. The men stared at each other.
“Sunstroke?” said Farlan.
“Would she gawk like this?” Bronwyn put his hand beneath her nose and detected shallow exhaling. He swallowed hard; children died of sunstroke.
“I’ll get Alaura. She’ll know what to do.” Farlan started away but stopped. “Where will I find her?”
The heat and the worry for Isla confused Bronwyn’s thoughts. Where was Alaura today? At Moon Meadow? The Market? Or would she be at her dwelling at this hour? He anguished over the possibilities. She had left before he picked up Isla at the bakery two days beforehand.
“Moon Meadow,” said Bronwyn in haste. “She has to be there. Choose the fastest horse. Bring her to us.”
“Take Isla to your quarters. It’ll be cooler there.” Farlan shouted over his shoulder as he raced out the door.
Bronwyn lifted his daughter into his arms. Within minutes, he shoved open the door to his quarters and indeed found the air cooler. He laid Isla on her bed, removed her trousers and shirt then dressed her in a thin nightshirt. Throughout it all, she remained unresponsive.
He flung open the window but found the outside air warmer than that which already occupied the room…so closed it. He filled a basin with cool water and patted Isla’s forehead with a damp cloth. Her faint breath brushed his skin as he peered closer at her transfixed eyes.
A noise sounded in the hall. He turned at once, hoping to see Farlan and Alaura. No, not enough time had passed. It took a good twenty minutes of hard riding to get to Moon Meadow. Judging by the time which had elapsed, he believed Farlan would be only arriving at Beathas’ cottage.
He dipped the cloth in the water and dabbed Isla’s face and neck. He applied the cool liquid to her arms, legs and feet. Goose bumps formed and he wondered if she might be cold. He covered her with a thin blanket and held her hand. Lowering his head close to her face, he looked for signs of awareness.
“Isla.” His voice cracked. “You’ll be fine. Alaura’s coming. She’ll know what to do.” He looked at the door. Where were they? What if they arrived too late? No! He wouldn’t let negative thoughts invade his senses. Isla would recover. He caressed her forehead, cheek and hair. “I’m here, Isla.”
The door flew open, and Alaura and Farlan rushed in. Bronwyn stood, giving her his spot on the bed. “Thank you for coming.”
Alaura felt the child’s skin. Leaning close, she peered into her eyes, gently drawing away the lids to examine the edges. “Farlan told me she appeared to be sleeping, but her eyes stared into space and she couldn’t be stirred. Has her condition changed since moving her to a cooler room?”
“No. Nothing.”
Alaura dug into her satchel and extracted several cloth pouches and a shallow porcelain dish. Into the saucer she poured two different types of fine powder; one orange the other rich yellow. “Her breathing is faster than normal, but shallow. Her skin is hot and dry, but I don’t think she has sunstroke.” Alaura spooned a small amount of the powder mixture near Isla’s nostrils. “I think it’s much worse.” She looked over at Bronwyn who sat on the opposite side of the bed.
His face twisted with anguish. “What then?”
“Poyson.”
“Poyson?” Bronwyn shot a looked at Farlan. “Did she eat anything unusual today?”
Farlan shook his head, astonished. “She ate an apple. Nuts. We had strawberry tarts from your mum’s shop. She’s eaten all those things before. I ate them, too!” He flopped in a chair and rubbed his hands against his lap. “I don’t know where she came in contact with poyson.”
“Farlan, you’re not to blame,” said Bronwyn.
“But I feel as if it’s my fault.” His voice trembled.
“It’s not. We can’t predict every danger.”
With gentle nudges, Alaura directed the powder into Isla’s nostrils. Once she had pushed a sufficient amount into the naval cavity, she asked Bronwyn to hold open Isla’s mouth.
“What’s that? Magic?” Bronwyn watched her sprinkle a light dusting of the fine powder on Isla’s tongue.
“It’s an herbal remedy.” She slid his hands from the mouth and used her own to close it. “Her body will absorb the powder; draw it into her lungs and blood. It’ll seek out the poyson and try to remove it.”
“How is it removed?”
“The way a body always releases unwanted material.” She looked around. “We’ll need a bucket.”
Farlan jumped up and went to the water closet. He returned with a pail and handed it to her. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, Farlan. Thank you,” she said. “If Isla’s body accepts the remedy, she’ll take care of the rest.”
The three patiently waited as the minutes ticked by. All at once, Isla heaved. At first, her body appeared in control, but it quickly turned violent.
“Hold her on her side. She’ll choke if she stays on her back.” Alaura held the bucket, ready to catch whatever came from Isla’s mouth.
Convulsions seized the child’s body. Bronwyn had difficulty holding her near the bucket. A repugnant smell escaped her mouth. His eyes watered and he gagged.
Alaura watched him heave. “Look away and take a breath.”
Bronwyn obeyed. Isla shuddered then threw-up into the bucket. The wretched stench spread quickly throughout the room. He didn’t want to look but couldn’t resist. What he saw in the bucket made his stomach pitch. The black gelatinous substance danced and hissed. Little eruptions spewed forth puffs of gas.
Isla took a deep breath and flopped down on the bed.
“Farlan, dispose of this.” Alaura handed him the bucket and leant away in an attempt to catch a breath of fresh air. She wiped Isla’s mouth clean of vomit with the damp cloth.
Farlan started towards the water closet, but Bronwyn stopped him. “We’ll never get rid of the smell. Throw it outside.”
Eager to find relief from the nauseating substance, Farlan opened the window and flung the bucket into the air. It fell two storeys before hitting the ground. When he turned, Alaura stared in disbelief. “What?”
“You threw away the pail.” She flinched and put her hand on her abdomen.
“There must be another in the closet.” Farlan hesitated to abandon the fresh air entering the window but went in search of another bucket.
“Will she be better now?” Bronwyn cradled Isla in his arms.
“She released the poyson. It’s a good sign.” Alaura placed her hand on his forearm. “She needs sleep and warmth. Give her a moment then we’ll see if she’ll drink.”
“Where do you think it came from?” He had a hunch but hoped it to be wrong.
“I don’t know. If I had accompanied her today perhaps…”
“I’ve smelt the stench before,” he said. “The night the henchman tried to take Isla from us; his blood smelt of it. You said it contained evil magic.”
“I remember, but I don’t see how the events of that day connect with this situation.” She caressed Isla’s cheek.
“Is it Lindrum’s black magic?”
“Possibly. All I know is I’ve smelt the distinct odour a few times.”
Farlan exited the closet with a small pail. “This is all I could find.”
“Das,” said Isla in a weak voice. She stared up at him, her eyes wet with tears.
“Isla.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re going to be okay.”
She nodded and buried her face in his white shirt. She clung tightly and cried.
The moisture rose in Bronwyn’s eyes as he held her near. “It’s going to be okay, Isla. The worst is over.” He glanced at Alaura for reassurance. “Right?”
“I believe so.” She took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead.
Farlan glanced at his watch. “I hate to leave, but I’m already late for patrol.” He knelt beside the bed and stroked Isla’s hair. She looked up with a flushed face streaked with tears and hair matted to her skin. “Be well, my Little Sprite. I’ll see you in the morning.” He took one last look then left the room.
“Bronwyn, may I have a glass of water?” asked Alaura.
When he returned with the water, she held the glass to Isla’s lips. “Sip it, Honey. Your throat may be tender.” The child drank eagerly. By the time the glass emptied, Alaura’s hand shook. She shoved the glass at Bronwyn and wiped her brow. “Shut the window.”
“What about the stench?” He preferred the warm air over the smell.
“Close it!” Alaura rubbed her forehead with trembling fingers then tucked her hair behind her ears. She pulled the blanket to Isla’s chin and kissed her cheek. “Rest, my sweet Isla.”
Bronwyn studied Alaura as he closed the window. “Is anything wrong?”
“I’m warm.” Alaura’s shaky hands fumbled with the pouches of herbs then rammed them into her satchel. She struggled to fasten the flap. Grabbing a book from the small bedside table, she fanned her face and neck. She placed her palm over her belly; she seemed lost in thought.
“Are you sure?” Bronwyn knelt on one knee beside her and took her hand in his. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine. Really. I am.” She pulled her hand free. “I need cool air. Fresh air.”
“Will you come back later and check on Isla?”
She nodded.
He watched her push herself up from the bed. She swayed to and fro. When she rose to her full height, her eyes rolled, and she blinked several times. She stumbled and he caught her. “I don’t think you’re as well as you say you are.” He helped her sit back down on the bed. “Why don’t you stay?”
“Here? With you?” Alaura shook her head awkwardly as if drunk. “I can’t stay.”
“I don’t bite.” He smiled to make light of the situation, but in truth he worried about her well-being. She looked as if she’d burst into tears. “If you stay, you’ll be here for Isla. You can sleep in the bed, and I’ll sleep on—”
“No!” Her eyes grew wide and fear painted her features. “I can’t stay with you!”
Taken aback by her insistence, he didn’t know what to say. She knew him to be a good person. Why didn’t she feel safe with him?
“Help me up,” she demanded, reaching for his hand. “I’ll rest at my dwelling.”
Bronwyn pulled her to her feet. He felt grateful Alaura had come to help Isla, and if she didn’t want to stay, he respected her decision. He wished things to be different, but…
Alaura released his hand and took a few steps forward. He watched her force one foot in front of the other. It didn’t appear she’d make it to the door, let alone her dwelling. Her hands grabbed at her stomach and she stumbled. He caught her before she hit the floor. He lifted her into his arms and carried her towards his bed.
“Let me go!”
“I won’t. You’re staying.” If he needed to use force, he would—sparingly. Though her words sounded strong, her body felt limp. “Alaura, you’re too weak to walk alone to your dwelling, and since I can’t leave Isla, you have to stay.”
“I can’t. It’s not safe for me or you.” Her body flopped against him, and she buried her face in his shoulder.
“Nonsense. You’re safe here. I promise.” He sat her on his bed and took off one of her boots. She protested when he attempted to remove the second boot, but her strength faded and he quickly removed it.
Looking up from his kneeling position, he became shocked and confused by her expression. Her gaze travelled down his face to his partially unbuttoned shirt. She slipped her hands into the opening, and as her fingers caressed the skin on his shoulders and neck, her facial features softened. His pulse raced when she pulled him to her breasts and danced her hands over his back, drawing his shirt tail from his trousers. A loud grumble erupted from her stomach, and she winced in pain. Though he wished to enjoy the unexpected closeness, he sensed she didn’t control her actions. He forced them apart.
Terror sped across her face, and she pulled her hands free, wrapping them across her stomach.
“Alaura, you have fallen ill.”
She nodded, avoiding eye contact. “I must have caught Isla’s illness. No, I…I couldn’t have. I felt trouble the moment I passed through the gateway of the castle.” Her trembling hand went to her temple. Her body swayed from side to side. “I want to lie down.”
She ga
ve him a weak smile, but he realised she attempted only to mask the pain and worry and stall the tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t resist when he removed the belt holding her dress snug or when he guided her beneath the blankets. Laying her head on his pillow, she breathed deeply and closed her eyes.
“Alaura.” Bronwyn shook her. He felt relief when she looked up. “I worried you…” He glanced at Isla in her bed, watching and listening. He bent close to Alaura’s ear. “Do you need to ingest the herbal mixture? The same you gave to Isla?”
Lost in thought, her fingers traced the outline of his chin from one ear to the other then crossed his cheek to settle upon his lips. They felt soft upon his skin like a whispering wind on a warm day. He wanted to kiss them, but remained still, trying not to move, hoping they wouldn’t fall away. When their eyes met, she shook her head. “Sleep.” Her soft voice trailed off, and she withdrew her hand.
Bronwyn watched her eyes close. He hoped her to be right, and that she needed only rest. Sitting upright on the bed, he looked from Isla to Alaura. He had to watch over them both. To make things simpler, he lifted Alaura to the inside of the bed then placed Isla next to her. He set the lock on the door and extinguished the lantern. He wanted to strip to his shorts, but instead kept on his trousers and lay down next to Isla.
When he settled, Isla reached up and touched his chin. Her small hand climbed to his cheek. “Das, I’m scared. It feels as if a hundred ants are marching through my belly, stomping their feet and shouting.”
He pulled her near. “The worst has passed.” He kissed the top of her head. The females falling ill from a similar but unusual ailment puzzled him. Had others fallen ill in the castle? If so, was Lindrum’s evil magic responsible? Here in his quarters, all seemed under control. To reassure himself, he glanced towards his sword hanging on its hook near the bed. He could find it in the dark if need be.
For a long time, Bronwyn lay awake listening to the steady breathing of his bedmates. Watching over them gave him a sense of his real duty: to care for and protect two of the most important women in his life.
Tonight his quarters felt more like home than they normally did. All the familiar sounds came to him: the ticking clock, the soft footsteps in the outside hallway, the closing of a door and the distant sound of the bell tower chiming at every hour. But two new sounds whispered in the darkness: Alaura’s gentle breathing and occasional movement. Her scent added a distinct flavour to the air, yet it blended with his and Isla’s to create a pleasant aroma. Calmness settled over him and the warmth of his small family filled his heart.
The dwarf touched his lips. He wondered what Alaura had thought before she dozed off. An unpredictable woman, she could be one moment full of delight—enticing him to come closer—and the next, distant and cold, pushing him away as if she didn’t wish to know him.
He occasionally wished he hadn’t met her. Her stern manner of instructing him on the proper upbringing of Isla got out of hand. It caused many arguments between them. Alaura found him too strict with his teaching of right and wrong, but too lenient when he turned almost everything else into fun.
Still, he couldn’t imagine life without Alaura. Over the past seven years, he had grown to know her in ways he hadn’t known a woman before and to respect her like no other. Their casual friendship had grown into more than she would admit. Though she refused a lone outing with him, he sensed she had feelings for him.
One day while fishing along the Shulie River with Isla and Farlan, Alaura hooked a fighter. Bronwyn helped bring in the sea trout. As he held it up for her to admire, she threw her arms around his neck in triumph. He hugged her with his free hand, savouring the closeness. Then, as if suddenly realising the intimacy of her actions, she pushed herself away. Her shove came so quick and strong he fell backwards into the river, losing the fish in the fall. He clung to moments like this, hoping with the passing of time, their friendship would evolve into a fulltime relationship.
But Alaura had become more than a potential mate; she spanned the gap between him and Isla. When Isla had come home crying from study class one day, his attempts to calm her failed. Alaura arrived, took Isla aside and had her smiling within minutes. She explained Isla’s classmate had teased her about Liam, and she punched the other girl in the mouth. Isla felt afraid to tell Bronwyn because she knew he’d be disappointed in her. She’s a little girl. She’ll make mistakes, Alaura had told him. She needs to know you still love her when she does. It’s you she wishes to please most. He and Isla discussed the incident, and he put her mind at ease.
Bronwyn touched Alaura’s cheek. She felt warm—too warm. He pulled the blanket off her shoulder and folded it over her hip. He touched her forehead; the fever gripped her. He ran his finger along her chin and crossed her cheek to her lips, warm and soft.
Then, without warning, he fell asleep, dreaming of the ones he loved. The strong feelings ignited a fire in his blood and incinerated any illness the poyson inflicted on him.