Page 71 of Bride of the Sinful Laird
Nothing could have held him back. If it meant he would die in the conflagration beside Annora, so be it. Dodging the burning floorboards, he made his tortuous way across what was left of them in order to reach the table.
Seizing her limp form in his arms, he was about to make his way back to the doorway which was now well alight, when there was a roar from overhead and part of the roof descended, crushing the table which Annora had been lying on only seconds before.
To his great relief she moaned as he trod towards the door.
He lowered his head, protecting her against his chest, and charged through the ring of flames in the doorway into the blessed fresh air outside.
Despite the chaos, the servants’ frantic efforts to douse the fire, shouts and screams, the whinnying of the terrified horses in the stables, the falling ash from the fire, it seemed that apart from the two guards and Annora, there were no other casualties.
Lionel and one of his squires rushed over.
“She lives,” Edmund managed, “she is alive and I must take her straight tae the infirmary.”
“Ye go, I’ll stay and see if the lads can put out these flames before too much damage is done.”
With that, Edmund, carrying Annora in his arms, skirted the debris scattered on the ground, rushed back the way he’d come towards the infirmary.
The healer, despite being bent with age, moved fast enough when Edmund entered the infirmary. She hastily put a pot of water on the fire and directed him to lay Annora out on the small pallet in the corner of the room. The horsehair mattress was lumpy and, no doubt, uncomfortable, but he paid no heed as he gently laid her down.
Her face was black with soot as were her hands, the hem of her kirtle was burned and there was a patch of skin above her ankle that was already red and blistering where a flame had caught her. She coughed mightily and he rolled her onto her side.
“That’s it, lass,” the healer directed, pounding her back, make her cough up the evil smoke.
She hastened over with a bowl of pungent tisane, from which scented steam was rising. It smelled of pine, mullein and licorice root. He helped the still coughing Annora to sit, holding the bowl so she could inhale the life-bringing steam. While he did this, she began preparing a salve for Annora’s burn.
Once the steam had receded, she bathed the wound on Annora’s leg.
“Oww,” she sucked in a breath and coughed again as the healer’s hot water cloth pressed against her burned flesh.
“Hush lass,” the old woman muttered. “Thank the Good Lord and this fine gentleman that yer nae burned all over.”
Annora coughed once and looked up with a grin, seizing Edmund’s hand. “I dae thank them both, Mistress, from the bottom of me heart. And I thank ye too, fer yer attention.” Despite her grin, her voice was an almost inaudible croak and the effort of speaking left her with a paroxysm of coughing that caused her face to redden and her eyes to water.
“Hush lass,” Edmund patted her hand. “Dinnae bother yerself. We understand yer gratitude.” He looked up at the woman. “Is she well enough tae return tae our chamber? She can rest in comfort there.”
“Indeed. I will send a servant with tisanes. Make sure she breathes in the steam every few hours to heal the searing traces of the smoke.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Edmund strode into the keep with the still coughing Annora held tightly in his arms.
“Never fret lass, ye’ll soon be safe in our chamber.”
He felt her trembling against him and held her close, planting tiny kisses in her smoky hair. His heart was still beating a crazed rhythm against his ribs and he could hardly catch his breath. The prospect of losing her had been too real and too close.
He knew now that what he must speak with Tormod as soon as it was feasible and request a meeting with the Elders. There was much to discuss.
Inside the keep they were met by Dougie MacPherson, wringing his hands, filled with apologies for having sent Annora into harm’s way.
“Chief Tormod has cancelled the feast. There’ll be only a quiet supper this night as we grieve fer the fine lads who were guarding the gate when those bandits rode in.”
Edmund had grave doubts about the so-called bandits, but this was not the time to mention them.
He dipped his head. “’Tis a sad and grievous night.”
“I will send supper fer ye and yer lady tae yer chamber, milord.”
Once they reached the seclusion of their bedchamber and Annora was clad in her night-shift and was once more resting between the coverlets, Edmund sat on the bed beside her and bent to kiss her gently on the lips.
