He slid a hand inside his jack, touching his shoulder. The linen was damp. He pulled his hand away and inspected his fingers. Blood. Perhaps he'd only pulled the st.i.tches loose. And perhaps there was seepage mixed with the blood. Corruption.

He bit down on his lip, willing away a sickening wave of dizziness. He must not succ.u.mb to the fever, to the delirium. He was stronger than Fayth, and she needed him, or she would die. He pushed away from the horse and scanned the area around the cave. He knew this place. There was a burn not far, if he could only remember which direction. Fog obscured everything. The raw edge of panic gripped him. He knew the west march, could find his way in the thickest fog, the deepest night. This disorientation frightened him.

Alex closed his eyes, envisioning this patch of forest in the daylight. There was a faint trail, to his right, left by animals. He opened his eyes and started forward. He couldn't discern a trail, but kept moving. Soon he heard the faint gurgle of water and he ran, relieved. He slipped down an embankment, lost his footing, and splashed into the water.

The freezing water stole his breath. He gasped, crawling from the stream. He shivered on the bank, trying to catch his breath. The water had braced him, cleared his head. Fayth. Alone in the cave. He quickly filled the skin and picked his way back through the forest.

Bear was at the cave entrance, his head inside, brown tail swishing anxiously. Alex pushed the horse aside, ducking to enter. The ceiling was low; he couldn't stand straight. But he'd placed her near the entrance. Wolf was there, sitting by Fayth's side. She stood when Alex entered, wagging her tail joyfully.

"Biddy?" Fayth said, her hand on the dog's side. Then her eyes found Alex, fever bright and fearful. He was undone by her wobbly smile, the relief in her face at his return. He sank to his knees beside her.

"Here, drink." He slid his hand beneath her neck, tilting her head to take the water. She drank deeply, some of it running down her neck. Several strips of linen secured Fayth's arm to her side. Alex removed one of the linens and soaked it in water, wiping the cloth over her face and neck. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes red.

"Stay," she said.

He stretched out beside her. She lay her head on his wounded shoulder. He gritted his teeth until the pain subsided. He stared at the ceiling as Wolf-or Biddy, as Fayth called the dog-settled down beside him, and prayed Davie would not be long.

Alex didn't know how long he'd been sleeping. His entire shoulder throbbed with a dull sickening pulse, in time with the pounding of his head. He groaned, trying to roll over, but something pinned him to the ground. He raised his head, squinting. Sunlight streamed through the cave's opening. A cloud of red-brown curls rested on his shoulder.

Alex dropped his head back down. His saddle was beneath his head. He didn't remember doing that. That wasn't good. But he knew why he was here. He'd come here because Fayth could not be moved. She was mindless with the fever from her wound. He was waiting for Davie.

His eyes burned and he knew she wasn't the only one boiling with fever, but his wits were still intact and that was a good sign. He needed to tend her. Feed her, give her water, dress her wound.

With great effort he eased himself to sitting, moving her gently off his shoulder and resting her head on a rolled-up blanket. His stomach roiled and the pounding in his skull nearly blinded him. When his head cleared, he leaned over her, checking her color. She'd been so pale, before. Now she was flushed, her lips dry and cracked. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek and drew back at the heat. She moaned softly, fidgeting, her brow creasing.

He reached for the water skin, pleased to find it full. He must've filled it last night. He slid a hand beneath her neck.

"Wake, la.s.s," he said, holding the mouth of the water skin to her lips. She tried to turn her head away until he tipped it. Water spilled over her lips, running down her chin. Her eyes came open and then she was drinking, greedy, gasping for breath.

"Slow it down," he murmured, pulling the skin away.

She swallowed and grimaced. "More." Her voice was raspy, raw, her fevered gaze fixed on his. He gave her a bit more, then set it aside. He laid her head back on the blanket.

"Let me change your dressings, then we'll eat something, aye?"

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his face.

The sleeve had been ripped off her shirt, so it didn't impede efforts to monitor the wound. The dressing was stained with fresh blood. He kept his face impa.s.sive as he gently unwound the linen. She gasped, her breath shuddering in and out, but never cried out, or told him to stop. He saw, when the wound was exposed, that the bleeding had stopped and the st.i.tches held. It was merely seeping. It was swollen and red, but the seepage was clear and didn't smell. That was good. Of course, it was early, the wound could still corrupt. He didn't know if or when it should be amputated and wished fervently for Davie.

He had no wine so he poured water over it and dried it with a clean cloth. As he rewrapped it, she said, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Taking care of me. Dressing my wound."

"Someone has to." He tied it off and met her gaze. "And I'm afraid I'm all you've got right now."

"Red Alex is all I've got." She shook her head slowly, her eyes drifting shut.

Obviously she'd regained her mind, if she knew who he was. He supposed there was little chance now of coaxing another kiss from her. Ah well... He hoped she wouldn't become uncooperative-not that there was much she could do, other than be unpleasant.

When he turned to rummage through his bags he noticed the pile of hares in the corner and grimaced. He scanned the interior of the cave, but Wolf was nowhere to be found. Probably hunting up more food. The dog was highly obedient, but there were some things he had no way of communicating, such as, a pile of rotting animal carca.s.ses didn't help matters.

His body protesting, he dragged the hares out, knowing Wolf would drag them back when she returned. Fayth watched him with a dull, gla.s.sy stare. Outside the cave the air was cool, but the sun had burned away the fog. He heard a rustling and turned. Bear burst from the trees at a trot, head shaking, vocalizing his displeasure at this extended stop.

Alex scratched the horse's nose, wondering how long they would be safe here. The Grahams might follow Skelley and the others, but then Skelley might have lost them. In that case, they could come back this way.

Alex sent Bear back into the trees and returned to the cave. He had nothing to feed Fayth but dried meat and oats. He didn't think meat would set well on her stomach, but he had no fire to make the oatcakes. With a grunt of pain, he got to his feet again.

"Where are you going now?" She attempted to roll on her side, her eyes wide.

He paused, surprised by her panic. "To gather wood and start a fire. You must eat and I canna make you an oatcake without a fire."

She lay back, her face and body going slack. She gave him a shaky nod.

He returned to find her watching the cave entrance intently, but her gaze followed him as he built the fire.

"I'll not leave you, la.s.s," he a.s.sured her, glancing at her as he struck the flint.

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "Can you not see past my surname to the man trying to help you?"

"Yes, I can. But I don't understand it."

"Here's what I don't understand." The fire was crackling and he sat back on his heels, turning to look at her. "Why such a bonny la.s.s would mask it with breeks?"

She smirked, a measure of her old self returning. "You wouldn't understand, because you're a man."

"Try me."

She eyed him suspiciously, then said, "Because men don't see me when I wear skirts."

Alex made a face of disbelief. "Oh, I don't know about that. I saw you fair well that night at Annancreag." He remembered that night, and her, vividly. Never had a la.s.s roused him so deeply.

"That's just what I mean," she said, looking away from him finally, turning her face to the wall. "All you saw was a potential bedmate."

He felt hotter suddenly and was momentarily glad for his fever, to hide the blush. "Very well then, what is it you want others to see when they look at you?"

Her shoulder moved in a shrug. "I want to be spoken to as a person. Not ordered about, like an empty-headed child."

Alex said nothing for a time, contemplating her words as he mixed oats with water and spread the mixture on a greased iron plate. He held it over the fire. He had no response for her statement. He had no sisters and though his father had adored his mother, he had not treated her with the same regard as he did men. This troubled Alex. For his mother had been a fine woman. Intelligent, pious, kind. And she had been content in the role G.o.d made for her. This vision of womanhood collided with Alex's own experience with others' expectations. He'd once been destined for another life. A life his mother and father planned with great hope and pride. And he had been unable to conform to their vision of him.

So lost was he in his thoughts that her soft voice startled him. He stilled as she spoke.

"When I was very small... five, mayhap, I used to follow my father and brothers everywhere. They delighted in my presence-well, at least my father did. I'm but a year younger than Wesley, so he didn't begin to mind me until the differences between us became clear and then even he was uneasy with them, as I was. One day I was told that I shouldn't follow them when they trained or hunted... that it didn't become a gentlewoman."

Alex turned toward her, his boots grinding in the dirt floor, and removed the oatcakes from the fire. She didn't look at him. She was on her back, staring into the darkness above her.

"I ignored them at first. But soon my father sent me away. It was clear I... embarra.s.sed him." Her cheeks, already ruddy from fever, flushed further. "I was very angry and envious of my brothers, of all the men able to be with Papa all day. And they did it because they were men-for no other reason!" She looked at Alex then, her eyes flashing with old indignation, mouth thinned. "And I was expected to sit upstairs and sew... and learn other such feminine things while they rode and hunted and became warriors." She looked upward again, exhaling loudly. "It seemed so unfair. So, one day, I borrowed some of Wesley's clothes and joined them in the training yard. Papa and Wesley recognized me at once."