A Battle Lord’s Heart Read online

Page 8


  “I know, I know. He looks nothing like me. But, trust me, he’s almost the spitting image of his father except for his coloring.”

  “His coloring?” Tory repeated.

  “Rory was dark-haired. Dark, dark brown.”

  “Then where...”

  MaGrath grinned. “Maddy’s mother was a redhead. We figure he got it somewhere down the line on that side.”

  “When did Yulen’s father die?” Fortune spoke up.

  “Two, no, three years ago. He was killed in a Mu—” Madigan caught herself. A hand flew up to cover her mouth. Taking a couple of steadying breaths, she lowered her hand to continue. “Forgive me. He was killed in a Blood ambush. I would have lost Yulen, too, except he’d been injured in an earlier raid and was recovering when they attacked again.”

  “Oh? How was he injured?” Tory inquired.

  “He took a short dagger in the back,” MaGrath told her.

  “The scar on his lower back! That’s how he got it!” a voice from upstairs exclaimed softly.

  The two couples glanced up at the balcony to see a pale face staring down at them. MaGrath smiled to himself. Silently they watched as Atty carefully descended down the spiral staircase. She was warmly dressed in her favorite cream-colored gown. From the slightly tousled hair flowing loosely over her shoulders, they could tell she had been lying awake in bed, listening to them talk.

  She approached them hesitantly, as if she was unsure she could join in on their conversation. Locking onto the physician, she told him, “He wouldn’t tell me how he got that scar. Just said it was a battle wound.”

  MaGrath nodded. “It was a bad knife wound. Barely missed his kidney, but it put him down for the count. A group of four of them swarmed his horse and cut its hind tendons, bringing it down. The second the horse began to falter and drop, they jumped him. We had two things to be grateful for that day. The first being that Bloods will strike and move on, without checking to see if the enemy is dead or incapacitated. The second being that right after they got to Yulen, they retreated, which gave us the chance to get out in the field and bring him in to tend to him.” He looked over at Madigan to see how she was coping with the memory. “Yulen’s always blamed himself for being partly responsible for his father’s death. He still believes that if he hadn’t gone down, Rory would still be alive today.” He reached over and patted his wife’s hand where it rested on the arm of her chair. She flashed him a smile that let him know she would be all right.

  Tory scooted over in her chair and patted the seat. Atty accepted her invitation and joined her, curling one foot beneath the other leg.

  Madigan studied the paleness in the woman’s face and the shadows that haunted her eyes. Yulen wasn’t the only one fighting the Blood army. Atty was fighting demons as well. Getting up from her chair, she went over to fetch the tray of apple dumplings and proceeded to pass them around.

  Tory excused herself and disappeared through the second downstairs door on the other side of the staircase, emerging a minute later with plates, forks, and cloth napkins. Atty stared in disbelief at the utensils. “Where did these come from?” she asked.

  “From the kitchen.”

  “What kitchen?”

  Tory burst into gentle laughter. “Goodness, Atty! Haven’t you checked out any of the lower section of your new home yet?” At the young woman’s stunned expression, she informed her, “There’s three bedrooms, a bath, and a kitchen area with a really nice brick oven. I guess Yulen had it built in case you ever wanted to have just a private dinner between the two of you. Or the three of you.”

  “Is it stocked?”

  “There’s some pots and pans, plus dishes and utensils, but no food. I guess you’ll have to get someone from the main lodge to bring it over.”

  “Atty, mind if I take Maddy upstairs to see the baby’s room?” MaGrath asked.

  She shook her head to give permission, but continued to dive into her apple dumpling as the physician took his wife upstairs to look around.

  Once they were in the loft, Madigan paused to study the elaborately-carved headboard with its intimate design. She also noticed the fact that only Yulen’s side of the bed was mussed. MaGrath observed her scrutiny. “What’s the matter, honey?” he inquired in a soft voice.

  “He built all of this for her.”

  “Yeah. He did.”

  She was silent for another moment, then said, “They love each other so much, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, honey. They do.” He paused, then said, “There’s stories about them, you know. Stories being spread all up and down the roadway.”

  She shivered slightly, making him wonder if it was because of a chill or something else. Her next words surprised him. “I gave him life. She gives him life. We have a lot more in common that I ever realized.”

  Drawing an arm gently about her waist, he led her into the nursery. Yulen’s cradle sat prepared and waiting next to the door, anticipating the time when it would be brought into the bedroom to receive the next Battle Lord of Alta Novis.

  Madigan ran her fingers over the crib and the small changing table that had only arrived that day. Despite the scrollwork on the wood, there seemed to be a conspicuous blank area on the front of each drawer, and on the sides of the crib.

  “Liam, what’s missing?”

  “Missing?”

  She pointed to the bald spot in the woodwork. “Here. And on the front of the changing table. Was there supposed to be something carved here?”

  MaGrath stared intently at the noticeably bare areas. “You’re right. It looks like something’s been left off. Maybe Atty knows. Let’s go downstairs and finish our dumplings before they get cold.”

  He led her back to the staircase, but not before she got one last good look at the design on the headboard. Once they were downstairs, a tray of drinks had been delivered from the main lodge. Tory handed them their mugs of hot cider.

  “The nursery is beautiful, Atty,” Madigan commented. “Out of curiosity, is there something that’s going to be added to the sides of the crib? Another design?”

  Atty looked down at her lap where the empty plate lay. Pushing her hair over her shoulder with one hand, she said, “Yulen said something about the baby having his own symbol, but we’d have to wait until he was born to come up with it.” She lifted her face. “They’re fighting them now, as we speak.”

  Her unexpected, almost nonchalant comment, washed over them like a bucket of cold water. They sat frozen. Stunned.

  “How could you know that, Atty?” Tory finally managed to whisper. “Y-You must be imagining it.”

  Slowly, Atty shook her head. The expression on her face was distant. Her eyes were glazed, as if she were watching from a great distance. “They struck in the night, hoping the darkness would provide enough cover,” she barely whispered.

  “Atty...Atty...you’re mistaken. Your mind is playing tricks on you.” MaGrath leaned over to give her a fatherly pat on the knees.

  It was Fortune who broke in to ask the unspoken question. “Is Yulen...”

  Atty sat perfectly still, her eyes remaining focused, yet unfocused, on some far away, unseeable sight. “He’s on the battlements, directing the archers.” A small smile creased her lips. “My archers. They’re doing me proud.”

  Then, as if someone had cut the string, she blinked and leaned back into the chair. One pale hand lifted to her eyes, and she rubbed them with her knuckles. Tory bent over and kissed her forehead. “Rest now,” she ordered the young woman.

  Snorting softly, MaGrath refused to believe what he’d heard. “She’s becoming delusional,” he admitted sadly.

  “No.” Fortune shook his head adamantly. “You keep forgetting we’re Mutah. Even we don’t understand how. Or why. Or when. But tales of lovers so intimately connected that they can sense each other over vast distances have been documented for years among our people. Don’t scoff at what she shares with us, Dr. MaGrath. Don’t ever scoff at it.”

  Tory squeezed t
he hand that remained in her lap. “Can you still sense him?”

  Atty slowly opened her eyes and winced. “Sort of. But I keep getting... I’m so damned uncomfortable.” She shifted in the chair, scooting back in the seat.

  “Does your back hurt? Here. Move right up to the cushion, Atty. It should relieve some of the pressure.” She tried to help Atty adjust to more comfortable position, but it didn’t seem to be working.

  “No, I don’t feel...it’s very awkward...I can’t figure out... Oh, my God!” Her eyes flew open wide, and her face went stark white. Her hands flew to her belly, fingers splayed over her gown.

  “What? Oh, God, Atty, what happened?” Tory was instantly alarmed, and began searching for whatever was wrong. Equally frightened, MaGrath fell to his knees before the chair as Fortune and Madigan leaned forward.

  Rolling her eyes down to her abdomen, Atty bit her trembling lower lip. One hand remained pressed to her swollen stomach. “It...moved!” Wide eyes filled with tears as she repeated, “He moved! Our son...h-he kicked me!”

  She reached for Tory, who drew her into her embrace as Atty continued to press her palm where the tiny bit of life shifted within her. MaGrath noticed that Atty’s breathing was becoming erratic, and knew there was the chance she might hyperventilate if she didn’t calm down.

  “Watch your breathing, Atty,” he cautioned gently. “Not so fast. Slow it down, bluebell. There you go. Deep breaths now, not short, shallow ones.”

  “He moved, Liam!”

  “That’s great,” MaGrath chuckled, giving her a big smile. “That’s wonderful!”

  “No. You don’t understand,” she reiterated. “He. Moved. There’s really a baby in here!” She looked to Tory, who was laughing softly. “Is it supposed to be funny?”

  “No,” Tory admitted, although she was having a difficult time not to giggle. She was relieved and delighted and worried all at the same time. “I think this is the best news I’ve heard all week,” she smiled.

  “Why?” Atty asked. The baby must have made another movement, as she suddenly glanced downward at her stomach and jumped slightly. “That one tickled.” An accusing stare at MaGrath gave the physician pause.

  “Why are you looking at me?” he chuckled, throwing his hands up in the air.

  “You never told me about this part! Neither did you!” she accused Tory with a glare.

  “Okay,” Tory grinned. “Then let me remedy that omission right here and now. Atty, you’re going to have to be prepared to feel the baby move inside you. He’s going to kick, and stretch, and poke, and as long as he does you’ll know you’re going to have a strong, healthy baby when he finally arrives. Now are you satisfied? Does that make you feel better? Atty?” She gave her a little shake, but Atty seemed mesmerized by what she was feeling both within herself, and on the outside of her belly. Two sensations simultaneously coming from the child she and Yulen had created. A child created when they had made love.

  “It...stopped,” Atty whispered.

  “He’ll do it again,” Madigan told her. “There may be nights you won’t get much sleep because he’ll keep you up with all the kicking. I know Yul did it to me.”

  “It’s a shame Yulen isn’t here for this,” MaGrath commented sadly. “He would have been ecstatic to feel his son’s movements.”

  “He knows,” came Atty’s barely audible response.

  The other four people stared at her in silent surprise. “What was that?” Fortune whispered, urging her to repeat what she’d said.

  Atty smiled, a tremulous, almost secretive smile. “Yul knows our son is moving inside me.”

  “How?” Tory asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from Atty’s own lips.

  “Because I just told him,” she murmured, and laid her head on the woman’s shoulder.

  Chapter Nine

  Breaking Oaths

  It was Fortune who carried the sleeping Atty upstairs and laid her on the bed, covering her with the quilt before going back downstairs.

  “Do you really believe she could talk to Yul?” Madigan whispered once the Mutah hunter had rejoined them downstairs by the fireplace.

  “Not talk,” Fortune corrected her. “It’s not like that. From what we’ve been told, and from what we’ve seen, it’s more like an understanding. I’ve already seen them correspond that way in the past. Just looking at each other and knowing what the other was asking, or saying. No reading thoughts or any nonsense like that. This latest, though, this has me completely spooked.”

  “Well, on that note, I believe we need to say our goodbyes and let these good people retire to their own bed,” MaGrath comment. He gave Tory’s shoulder a sincere squeeze. “I know that keeping watch on her has been very tiring for you, but know that Maddy and I appreciate you both being here to help.”

  Smiling, Tory laid her hand over his. “We fought for Atty to be returned here when she was recovering. We’ll fight for her again. As often as she needs us. As often as Yulen needs us. I’m just glad we’re able to help.” Her eyes lifted upward, and she added, “Do you think she’ll be all right tonight?”

  “More than likely,” MaGrath commented, also glancing up. “This latest discovery seems to have given her some peace of mind.” He snorted, grinning. “‘There’s really a baby in here!’” he quoted. Both Tory and Madigan giggled softly at the memory.

  The couples said their goodnights before the doctor and his wife departed. Fortune closed and locked the door behind them. Once he was certain the fire in the fireplace was adequately screened, he turned down the other two lanterns in the living area and retired to the back bedroom where Tory was waiting for him.

  * * * *

  Although muffled, the scream was high-pitched and filled with stark terror. Tory jerked awake, flying into a sitting position in bed as her heart thudded sluggishly in her chest.

  “Fortune!”

  Something had awakened him as well. Already his hunter’s instincts were primed to any danger. “What was it, Tory?” he hissed in the darkness.

  “I don’t know. It sounded—”

  The scream came again, but this time it took on a name.

  “Yullllllll!”

  “Oh, God! Atty!”

  They scrambled out of bed and raced down the hallway and up the curving stairway as another blood-curdling shriek of pure horror reverberated against the log walls of the lodge. Suddenly the scream abruptly stopped. They heard a loud thump, and the sound of retching.

  Tory reached the landing first and ran for the bed. It was empty. Stumbling over to the far side, she found Atty hunched over on the floor, overcome with deep, dry, retching heaves. The young woman was rambling incoherently as her stomach bunched repeatedly, trying to throw up whatever it was that was upsetting it. A thin line of saliva ran from her mouth to the floor, but otherwise there was nothing for her body to expel, her last meal having long since digested.

  Atty was clearly upset to the point of being maniacal. Sobbing, she fought off Fortune’s hands, scrabbling backwards across the rug, until her back hit the side of the bed. Only then did she appear to calm down enough to where Tory could approach her.

  Wordlessly, Fortune bolted back downstairs and raced out of the lodge to fetch the physician. Once he was gone, Tory tried to calm the distraught woman, but Atty started to whip her head from side to side, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as if she were in great pain. Every time she felt a hand touch her, she fought it, striking it hard and painfully to keep it from holding her down. She whimpered, a high, keening whine from inside her throat, but she uttered no more words as she continued to retreat against the heavy bed frame.

  Tory tried to talk to her in soft, soothing tones, but her words didn’t appear to be making any difference. Atty was lost somewhere in a place too deep within herself, lost where the worst of her nightmares and fears had taken hold of her mind.

  Presently the sound of feet pounding up the stairwell echoed in the room, and MaGrath appeared around the side of th
e bed. He had a leather satchel with him, which Tory recognized as his medicine bag.

  “Has she screamed again?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He reached for the woman, but she resisted vehemently, scratching the back of his wrist for his effort. “Atty! Atty! It’s me! It’s Liam! Open your eyes, Atty! It was just a nightmare! Atty!” He grabbed for her again, and this time he managed to snag one hand. Before she could attack him with her other, Fortune snatched it. Holding her down, together they advanced closer and tried to calm her.

  “Atty! Wake up, Atty!”

  She stopped the violent shaking of her head, and sagged against the bed as she wept openly. Heartbreaking moans accompanied by the shaking of her shoulders.

  “Yul!”

  The single word made their hearts stop.

  “Oh, God, what’s happened?”

  MaGrath looked up to see his wife’s terrified face peering at him from the foot of the bed. Vaguely he was aware of the sound of more feet rushing in through the front door. They belonged to the guards who had been alarmed by Fortune’s calling out for the physician. Calling out the one word, the one name that had sent everyone into a total panic.

  Taking a deep breath, he reached over and cupped Atty’s face between the palms of his hand, lifting her head until he could get a closer look. “Let her go,” he told Fortune, who released her other hand. Bending closer, he whispered tenderly, “Atty. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

  She was breathing heavily, but she heard him. Slowly, thick dark blue lashes lifted to where she could focus on the face staring frightened but lovingly at her. Without warning, she launched herself into the man’s arms and grabbed the shoulders of his tunic where she shuddered in his embrace.

  Several minutes passed as MaGrath held her, allowing her time to calm down, until her violent trembling ceased. He felt her lips pressed against his neck, her wet face buried in the collar of his shirt. When she was able at last to gain control of herself, she pulled away, releasing her vise-like grip on the physician’s clothes.’