Chapter 15
Abby awoke to Iain thrashing from side to side. Shaking the sleep from her brain, she sat on the side of the bed as he grated out words, mumbles, really, she couldn’t decipher.
The cold air brought goose pimples out on her arms, but he was so hot and sweaty. She shivered and wrapped her now dry cloak around her, noticing the fire had died down. She quickly threw more peat into the fire until flames began to warm the room once more. The morning light was gray . . . again.
Before the heavens opened, Abby hurried to the stream and fetched another bucket of water, all the while wondering if she should have made Iain swallow as much broth as she did the night before.
Maybe she had made him even sicker. What was the old saying?
Feed a cold, starve a fever or feed a fever, and starve a cold?
She had a worrying hunch that it was the former. Great. Way to go, Abby.
Back in the house, she scrubbed strips of cloth as well as she could and stretched them out by the fire to dry before taking off her shirt and underwear and washing them.
She hoped they would dry before Iain awoke.
She paused. If Iain awoke. No. She wouldn’t think like that.
He had to survive. He had to get better, and soon.
She wrung a cloth out in the freezing water and began bathing him with it.
She wiped his face, neck, chest, and as far down as she dared.
As she redressed his wound, she was certain the infection was lessening.
The redness around the edge of the wound was gone, and it wasn’t as swollen as the night before. Please let him be all right. Please.
Between bouts of crazed shouting and thrashing around on the bed, Iain dove into unconsciousness.
No matter what state he was in, however, the fever racked his body.
How he could be so hot and look so blue as if he were freezing, she didn’t know, but it worried her.
The only thing she could do was wash him with the wet cloths and pray.
She wasn’t a religious person, but she believed in a higher power, a place where the deceased crossed over. Abby just hoped it wasn’t Iain’s time to go to that place. She was just getting to know him, and she liked him. A lot, if she was honest with herself.
She reheated the meat broth and boiled the kettle. She made a mug of Mary’s tea for herself and a bowl of Mary’s herbal tea for Iain.
Forcing herself to eat, she watched the rise and fall of Iain’s massive chest. His face had relaxed somewhat, and his mouth hung open a little in what looked like a peaceful sleep.
She put her bowl down and, whipping another cloth out of the bucket of cold water, she squeezed out most of the water. With it still dripping a little, she placed it over his forehead. He groaned but this time, he didn’t appear to be in pain. It was more a happy groan, if there was such a thing.
She wiped the cloth down over his face and neck and opened it out over his chest. The short black curls coiled tighter as they moistened. In a circular motion, she rubbed gently.
Feeling watched, her gaze darted to his face. He was awake, and his lips were slanted in a sexy smile. Her hands froze.
“You’re awake.” Stupid. Of course he was. Did she always have to state the obvious?
“Aye.”
Feeling his forehead with the back of her hand, her heart flipped. The fever was gone. “You don’t have a fever.”
His eyes slid down her throat and widened. “Nay.”
She glanced down and pulled her cloak together. “Stay there.”
He chuckled. “Aye.”
She scooped up her shirt and hurried to a shadowed corner of the room. Facing the corner, she said over her shoulder, “Turn your head away.”
“Nay.”
Figuring he wouldn’t see much, anyway, Abigail quickly disposed of the cloak and pulled the shirt over her head. When she turned around, Iain was trying to sit up.
Pushing him back against the blanket roll, she said, “What did I tell you? Stop moving, you stubborn man.”
Removing the dressing from his side, she was amazed at how good the wound looked. She wiped off the cream Lara had given her but decided not to replace it with more. “I’m going to let the wound dry out before redressing it.”
“Aye.”
He sat up and examined his injury. “Ye have saved me life, Abigail. I thank ye.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
She picked up the bowl of broth and began to spoon feed him.
He took the bowl from her. “I can do that meself.”
Once he’d finished, she tried to give him more of the herbal tea.
“Nay. I don’t need that witches’ brew any longer.”
“I think you do. Drink it.”
“Nay.”
Abby couldn’t believe how childish he was acting. “If you don’t want to relapse, you’ll drink the darn tea.”
“But it is hideous.”
She smelt it and screwed up her nose. “Well, yeah, but it’s good for you. Now drink.”
He cocked his head and made a face. “Only for you, angel.”
She was going to tell him not to call her an angel again but decided now wasn’t the time for any more arguments.
As soon as he finished the tea, he fell into an exhausted but peaceful sleep. Abby was amazed at the rate of his recovery. He was incredibly strong.
She put on her cloak and collected the herbal shampoo-like stuff Mary and Lara had given her. Excited to finally bathe, she couldn’t wait to use the amazingly perfumed shampoo all over her entire body.
Sunlight lit up the grounds around the house. She tipped her head back and smiled. The sun warmed her face, but only slightly. She hoped it stayed out while she washed in the stream. She figured she had some time before Iain woke up again.
When she’d finished and made her way back to the house, she felt the cleanest she had since she left her family home.
She hummed as she pulled on her clean underwear.
Even her dirty skirt and vest couldn’t stifle her mood.
She was clean, Iain was on the road to recovery, and they would soon be on their way to get her orb back.
She’d only just sat down again when Iain opened his eyes. “Hello.”
His voice was harsh from dryness, but Abby had never heard anything so beautiful. Although he was still weak, he insisted he was strong enough to go outside.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and, pulling a blanket around his waist, he stood up.
He seemed so much taller under the low ceiling .
. . and wider. His arm muscles flexed as he tightened his grip on the blanket.
Abby’s eyes popped wide, but she caught herself and averted her face.
Whisking his cream shirt off the floor where she had it drying, she kept her head turned as she jabbed it in his general direction.
“I don’t need that.”
“You do if you want me to stay here.”
“Och. Have you never seen a naked man before?”
“I’ve seen plenty.” None like you, though. She turned her back to him. “Just put the shirt on, will you?”
He took it from her hand. “You can look now.”
She turned. He stood tall. The shirt fell to his knees, and Abby couldn’t help her gaze sliding down to his feet and back up again. Were all Highlanders so big? If he was in her time, he would be cast as one of the Greek gods in those fantasy movies. Thor, maybe.
Heat rushed into her face, and she snapped her head up. His smile was downright sexy and had her knees turning to jelly. Quickly sitting down, she grabbed the poker and prodded the fire around.
“I’ll take a bucket of water with me.” He chuckled and went outside.
The lightness in his voice didn’t fool Abby.
His legs shook with the effort of hauling the bucket, and she gnawed her bottom lip at the sight of his flushed face.
He might think he had the strength of a healthy man, but he was still weak and too ill to be wandering about unaided.
What if he fell? Her mind seesawed back and forth.
Should she go with him or not? But she decided he needed some privacy, so she stayed inside, busying herself by cleaning as best she could.
When he came back, he seemed more in control of his limbs.
“The fresh air helped me.”
He stretched out on the bed and Abby propped up the blankets behind his back.
“Thank ye, lass.”
Before she knew it, Iain had closed his hand around the back of her neck and brought her lips down to meet his.
She squirmed out of his grasp before their lips met. “We... we need to go before the English come.”
He drew his brows together and said, “Ye have the right of it.”
She only wanted to make him better but was worried any undue exertion might set him back. She hoped with all her might he would soon be capable of leaving the area. The constant threat of the English finding them weighed on her every waking moment.
Abby knew she had to deal with getting out of there before someone found them, but right at that moment, she wished she had let Iain kiss her.
Her whole body was on fire, and if he tried to get close to her to kiss her again, she wouldn’t be able to resist him.
She gazed up at the blackened ceiling. Why the hell shouldn’t she have him? She would never get another chance to be with a hunky Highlander like him.
Because it’s not right, Abby. She grimaced at the voice in her head and returned her gaze to Iain. He watched her with no expression whatsoever on his face. Confusion had her mind whirling. The voice continued to intrude on her enjoyment. You must leave him.
With an inward sigh, she pulled her hair back and tied it with one of the strips of cloth.
He gazed at her, disappointment washing over his face. “Aye. I understand.” He threw his legs off the bed with a grunt. “Ye have to get back to yer family.”
He slowly and methodically started packing up the few belongings they had. “I have my family to return to as well.”
Abby wanted to tell him he didn’t understand. She wanted to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t risk it. He could have her burnt at the stake for being a witch.