This Side of Heaven (16 page)

She understood that reaction too. Regaining her balance, Caroline frowned as she listened to John’s feet thudding down the steps. Instead of returning to bed, he had rushed belowstairs, probably to cry his heart out without awakening David. In his distress he needed someone with him, but that person was clearly not herself.

Drawing her wrapper more closely about her—she wore her nightdress beneath it, and slippers on her feet—she padded down the narrow, dark hall to stand hesitating for a moment outside Daniel’s door. Under the circumstances, she should have known better than to dress for bed, she supposed. But the gown she had worn all day had been bloodstained and filthy, and she had felt dirty too. When the men had retired she had treated herself to a quick sponge bath in the keeping
room, which she had, of necessity, converted into a chamber for her own use. After her bath she had longed for something clean and loose and had donned her night attire. She would snatch what sleep she could on a pallet on Matt’s floor.

But as she stood there, shifting from foot to foot outside Daniel’s door, it occurred to her that he, like his brothers, was no blood kin of hers at all but a stranger. She did not really imagine that the sight of her in dishabille would move him to lustful thoughts or worse, but still …

The dilemma was resolved when without warning Daniel snatched open his door. For an instant they gaped at each other, mutually taken aback. In the deep shadows of the hall, which was lighted only by the faint glow from Matt’s room, Caroline saw that he slept naked. Blessedly, he had wrapped a quilt around himself before coming to the door.

As if he couldn’t quite remember who she was, Daniel blinked owlishly at her. His gaze ran down her body, then jerked back to her face. This time his expression was alert.

“Matt?” It was a terse question. Caroline shook her head.

“ ’Tis John,” she whispered, mindful of the others who still slept. She had no wish to rouse anyone else. “He’s belowstairs, crying. He came to see his father, then ran from the room. He won’t take comfort from me, but I think someone should go to him.”

Daniel glanced toward the stairs. “Aye,” he said, then turned away, closing the door in her face. Caroline, already grown too accustomed to the Mathieson
men’s casual rudeness to take affront, presumed he meant to dress, and slipped back into Matt’s room. Her presumption was proved correct when, scant moments later, she heard Daniel’s door open again and the sound of his feet, first moving along the hall and then descending the stairs.

Knowing that John was being dealt with made her easier in her mind. Tucking a long strand back into the loose plait in which she wore her hair for sleeping, Caroline returned her attention to Matt.

He lay flat on his back with his arms flung out beside him so that his hands rested, palms uppermost and fingers curled, on top of the quilt, which had been carefully tented around his splinted leg. His hands, large, strong-looking hands, their skin toughened by hard work, touched her by their look of vulnerability. Such hands were not meant to be helpless. A blazing fire, built at Caroline’s insistence in the hearth that had clearly not been used in a long while, kept the room toasty warm. As a result she had no qualms about his bare arms and shoulders being left outside the coverings, nor his nakedness beneath—at least, not as far as his health was concerned. But she had to admit that she found caring for such a very masculine man, even if that man was Matt, disquieting. The muscles that bulged in his arms, the width of his shoulders, the thick pelt of hair that formed a wedge down the center of his chest, and the companion hairiness of his forearms and legs made her more than a trifle uneasy if she permitted herself to dwell on it. The thought of what else lay hidden beneath the quilt brought waves of discomfort with it. So she simply refused to think
about it. Matt was helpless, and under her care, and she would not allow the fact that he was a virile man to influence her. He had been kind to her, in his fashion, and without him her position in the household would be in serious jeopardy. For that reason if for no other—and she was not admitting to any other—he deserved her best, and he would get it. Besides, she could not let a man as obviously beloved by his sons as Matt was die for want of care. Her heart broke at the thought of those boys without him.

But keeping him alive, to say nothing of saving his injured leg, could prove to be a formidable task. Despite her best effort to remain optimistic, he did not look good. A blue-black stubble now shaded his cheeks and jaw, which she thought must serve to emphasize the pallor of his skin. Surely no man who was so naturally dark-complected could be that pale and live. Ominously, he was no longer sweating; his skin was hot and dry.

Placing gentle fingers against his forehead to assess the degree of heat, she frowned and drew them back again as her fingers felt burned. If the fever did not break soon, drastic measures, with their not inconsiderable risk, would need to be employed.

Matt had not opened his eyes since the apothecary set his leg. Whether he was unconscious or deeply asleep from the draught she regularly administered to keep him from thrashing about, she could not be sure. His breathing was fast and shallow, more pants than breaths. His lips were parted, moving as he fought for
her cloth in it and dribbled the cool moisture between Matt’s parted lips. At first he seemed oblivious; his breathing continued unchanged. But then as the water slid along his tongue he swallowed, and she continued, encouraged. At this point simply keeping him quiet and as comfortable as possible was paramount. All she could do was wait to see if his fever rose, or broke.

“How is he?” Daniel spoke from the doorway, making Caroline start. Her hand inadvertently squeezed the cloth too hard, sending a trickle of water running down Matt’s cheek. Disregarding Daniel for the moment, she wiped the errant stream away, her hands gentle as they ran the cool cloth over the hard contours of Matt’s hot face. Then she looked up again at Daniel, even as, with a tiny section of her consciousness, she noted the sandpaper roughness of Matt’s cheek.

“Much the same.” Her reply was husky.

Daniel had pulled on breeches and a shirt, but left the latter unbuttoned so that a wide section of hair-sprinkled chest was on view. His calves and feet were bare too. In the sputtering light of the candle he held, his hair gleamed like old copper. His eyes gleamed, too, if only briefly, as they rested on her. In an instinctive reaction to that unmistakable masculine glint, Caroline glanced down at herself to find that her wrapper had fallen open to the waist, revealing the delicate lawn of her nightdress in a narrow vee. Hastily she clutched the edges closed again, feeling her stomach churn even as she did so. It required an effort to force down the repugnance brought on by his appreciative
glance, and even more of an effort to look at him again.

“John’s gone back to bed. He was through crying when I got down to him. He’s a tough lad, is John.” Daniel’s words were abrupt, his eyes hooded as they fixed unwaveringly on her face. If they had fallen below her neck once, instinctively, it was clear from his dogged expression that he did not mean to permit such a lapse again. Caroline felt some of the tension leave her. Daniel was a decent man, she reminded herself. He had meant nothing by that look and certainly posed no threat to her.

“John can’t be more than ten years old. He shouldn’t have to be tough.”

“Everyone in this world needs to be tough to survive—and John’s nine.”

“He’s very tall for his age. But thin.”

“Aye. But then, so was Matt as a boy. So were we all. I must have been about ten or eleven when I first met Elizabeth—I’m six years Matt’s junior—and I remember that she laughed at me for being, as she said, nothing more than a collection of long bones.”

It was the first time Caroline had heard anyone mention Elizabeth in an unguarded way. By the tone of Daniel’s voice, the memory was not a fond one.

“You didn’t like Elizabeth, did you? Won’t you tell me why? You must know that I can remember scarcely anything about her.”

Daniel’s expression was suddenly inscrutable. Clearly he regretted saying as much as he had.

“If you want to know about Elizabeth, you must ask Matt. When he recovers, that is.”

“I would not like to revive his grief by speaking of her to him.”

Daniel laughed, the sound harsh. “I think you need have no fear of that.”

“Are you implying that he feels no grief?”

“I am implying nothing. As I said, you must ask Matt.” Daniel turned away abruptly. “If you need me for anything, you have only to call. I’m a light sleeper.” His eyes glimmered back over his shoulder at her. “Another Mathieson trait.”

Then he was gone, back along the hall to his own chamber. Caroline frowned, listening to the opening and closing of his bedroom door. There was something very wrong here, about Elizabeth. The matter would not be allowed to rest until she discovered what.

Caroline sensed rather than saw Matt’s awakening. When she glanced down she found his head half-lifted from the pillow. His body was rigid, his eyes open and vividly blue. There was a wild kind of fear in the cerulean depths as they stared, not at her but at a point just beyond her.

“Matt …” she began, instinctively glancing around to discover for herself the cause of that terror-stricken look.

Before she could say more he began to scream.

17

H
is cries were hoarse and panicked, his fight to escape whatever he imagined threatened him desperate. He beat at the mattress, kicked with his unbroken leg, and floundered about until fie nearly succeeded in throwing himself off the bed.

“Matt, stop it! You’ll hurt yourself!” she cried, and flung herself atop him in an effort to prevent him from doing himself an injury. “Daniel! Daniel, help!”

Instead of heaving himself toward the floor Matt was now struggling with her, shoving at her shoulders and back and hips as he fought to be free of her, landing blows that hurt despite their glancing nature. Afraid of his strength, Caroline nevertheless hung on, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his good leg and clinging like a limpet. Her head was buried in the hollow of his neck as she sought to hide her face from the punches she feared must surely fall at any moment. He could easily do her an injury—and yet she could not let go and thus let him do harm to himself.

“Fire! Fire!” It was a hoarse scream. He beat at the mattress again, the pounding of his fists frantic. It was clear that in his delirium he imagined the bed was aflame.

“Matt, it’s all right! There’s no fire! Please don’t!” Her voice was muffled by the skin of his throat as he bucked to throw her off. She smelled the acrid scent of his feverish body, felt the burning heat of his skin, the softness of his chest hairs against the underside of her chin, the enormous strength in his work-tempered muscles as he thrashed against the terror that threatened him. Her weight alone would not have been nearly enough to hold him down. But coupled with the immobility of his splinted leg and the excruciating pain he must be causing himself with his frenzied movements, it was sufficient to keep him on the bed for those few minutes before Daniel came.

“What in the name of all that’s holy …? Matt, for God’s sake! Matt!”

As Caroline rolled out of the way, Daniel grappled with his brother. But even Daniel alone was no match for Matt’s maddened strength. Fortunately Thomas, followed by Robert, ran into the room, and the three of them managed to subdue their brother.

Matt was still thrashing as Caroline poured a large portion of the sleeping draught down his throat. She stood by, trembling, for what seemed like an eon waiting for the medicine to take effect. It took all three of his brothers to hold him on the bed. Finally his struggles grew feeble and then quieted altogether. Still his brothers let him go only with a great deal of caution and stood by the bed frowning down at him. It was clear from their expressions that they feared for their brother’s life!

“What did you do to him?” Thomas turned on her, his eyes flashing. Only then did Caroline register that
he was naked. She recoiled, her gaze hastily shifting elsewhere. It took a moment for her to concentrate on the accusation he was making.

“Do to him!” she gasped when his charge sank in, and barely kept her gaze from snapping back to him. She fixed her gaze firmly on the small table to his left and opened her mouth to blister his ears. But before she could let fly, Daniel intervened. Having apparently been given just enough time to remove his shirt, Daniel was clad in breeches only. Robert had had the forethought to grab a quilt, which he held wrapped around his waist. Surrounded by a bevy of naked and nearly naked men, Caroline still managed to seethe.

“Of course Caroline did nothing to him.” Daniel seemed to see Thomas’s nakedness for the first time. His eyes widened as they swept over his brother. “For heaven’s sake, Thom, there’s a lady present! Cover yourself!”

Thomas looked down at himself, his cheeks reddening as he was made aware of his state. He grabbed a corner of Robert’s quilt to wrap around his own waist, throwing his brother off-balance as he did so. Robert staggered and nearly lost his grip on his own modesty. Only a quick snatch saved his portion of the quilt, and his cheeks turned as red as Thomas’s as he gave Caroline a furtive glance to see if she had noticed.

Though Robert glared at his brother, he didn’t try to recover full use of the quilt. Much of Caroline’s anger was dissipated as she watched the pair of them knocking shoulders and exchanging scowls as they came together in the middle of the coverlet. That bit of
ire enough to permit her to bite back the words with which she would have annihilated Thomas. Matt’s sickroom was no place for a bitter quarrel, though if either of them said such to her again she might speedily whistle that notion down the wind.

Once his brother was decent, Daniel turned his attention back to Caroline. “Suppose you tell us just what did happen.”

“I hardly know.” Ignoring the other two, who were still struggling over who would have the largest portion of quilt, Caroline spoke to Daniel. “When you left, he woke up. He was staring at something behind me, and he looked—frightened. I checked, but there wasn’t anything there, at least nothing that I could see. Then he started to yell, and fight, and I thought he would do himself harm. So I tried to hold him still until you could arrive to help. Oh, and he seemed to think the mattress was burning. He kept beating at it, and twice he yelled Tire!’ ”