Chapter 13
“Why is everything so blurry?” Lilliana turned her head, blinking repeatedly. “Betsy?”
She felt cold and dizzy, but also sweaty.
“What is happening?” she rasped, swallowing hard.
She winced at the pain in her throat. Moving her head from side to side, she tried to determine what had happened to her.
“Jane? Cecily? Are you here?”
She could not understand why her vision was so blurry. A shadow fell over her, and a very warm hand came to rest on her forehead.
“My Lady?” Betsy’s voice sounded alarmed. “You are burning up!”
Lilliana coughed weakly. “Am I sick?”
Betsy hmphed. “Well, of course you are, cavorting around in the rain like you did yesterday. What were you thinking?”
Lilliana smiled at the scolding. “I… was not… cavorting.” She tried to clear her throat because her voice was hoarse, but it hurt too much.
“Oh no? Well, you are certainly sick.”
“Just go to the healer’s quarters and get—”
Betsy rushed out of the room before she could finish.
Lilliana simply closed her eyes, trusting that Betsy would know what to get and find a way to help her.
Kayden was awakened by Betsy’s anxious voice in the corridor and left his rooms immediately to find out what the matter was.
“She feels so hot, woozy, and her throat is all sore. I do not know what to do,” she was telling Moira.
Moira nodded. “Daenae worry. We have herbs for that in the healer’s quarters. I believe she picked them with Old Fergus last week, and they should be ready.”
“Moira?” Kayden called.
His housekeeper turned to look at him. “Aye, Me Laird?”
“What is wrong?”
“Her Ladyship is unwell, Me Laird. I am on me way to her now,” Moira said.
Kayden nodded. “Aye, let me ken if ye need anything.”
Moira nodded before opening the door to Lilliana’s chambers and then closing it behind her.
Kayden found his feet propelling him forward until he was standing outside the door, arms crossed. He wanted to open the door and go inside, but he knew he would not be welcome.
“What is this anxious feeling?” he muttered to himself as he lifted a hand to rub his chest.
“I believe they call it worry.”
He turned to find Jacob leaning against the wall next to him. He stared at his cousin with wide, startled eyes. “Where did ye come from?”
“I was coming to see if ye wished to spar this morning.” Jacob grinned. “I thought it would exhaust the nervous energy that had been building up since yesterday. I heard the maid and Moira talking.”
Kayden nodded. “Aye, well, it seems Lilliana is ill.”
“Mmm.” Jacob nodded. “Perhaps it has something to do with both of ye getting drenched in the gardens yesterday.”
Kayden narrowed his eyes at his cousin. “How do ye ken that?”
Jacob snorted. “The whole castle kens. They saw ye both come out of the rain, looking a bit worse for wear. Ye didnae look pleased, according to the kitchen maids.”
Kayden’s lips twisted. “I didnae peg ye for a gossip.”
Jacob shrugged. “Ach, I cannae help listening when I’m sitting in the kitchen, getting fed the best bits of pig stew.”
Kayden would have laughed if he had not been so taken up in worry for his wife.
“She will be alright. It is just the ague,” Jacob assured him, understanding shining in his eyes.
“Ye daenae ken that for sure.”
Just then, the door opened, and Moira came out.
“She is sleeping,” she said. “I cannae deal with this meself. I need Old Fergus.”
Jacob straightened up. “I will fetch him.”
Kayden reached a hand out to stop him. “Nay, I will go. Ye stay here.”
Old Fergus bent over Lilliana, his hand poking and prodding.
Kayden balled his fists so as not to reach out and break the man’s fingers. For some reason, he did not like the old healer touching her so familiarly. But when he looked at Lilliana, her face both flushed and pale, sweaty and shivering, he could not help but worry.
She coughed, the hacking sound an affront to his ears.
Fergus straightened up with a nod.
“Will she be well?” Kayden asked.
Fergus turned to look at him. “Aye, I think so. Let her sleep as much as possible, cool her forehead if it gets warm, and stoke the fire so she doesnae get cold.” He turned to Moira.
“I think if ye let a cauldron of eucalyptus and peppermint water steam in the fire and make hibiscus tea, she will be fine in a day or so.”
Moira nodded. “I will make sure it is done.”
The old healer began to make his way to the door, Moira and Betsy trailing behind him. “Her throat will be sore for a while, so give her a spoonful or two of honey to soothe it.”
Kayden stayed behind, staring down at Lilliana. He hesitated to touch her lest he hurt her in some way. He pulled a stool to the side of her bed and sat on it, watching her chest rise and fall.
Her sleep was nowhere near peaceful. She jerked about, her eyelids fluttering. Reaching out slowly, he placed a hand on her cheek and leaned in.
“Hush, lassie. Ye are safe here,” he whispered.
She let out a moan that went straight to his manhood, much to his chagrin. He did not want to think about other reasons why she might moan like that. Still, he could not help the way his eyes drifted to her lips.
He reached out and brushed her hair from her face. “Ye are a veritable temptation, are ye nae, Lilliana?” he whispered to her.
He watched her for a few minutes, curious as to whether she heard him or not.
She gave no indication that she had heard him, but her agitation had eased. The door squeaked open, and he turned to see who was there, not bothering to remove his hand from her face.
Rua came padding into the room, sniffing curiously at the floor before coming on the other side of Lilliana’s bed.
Kayden smiled at his dog. “Ye have come to keep guard, have ye nae?” he asked.
Rua huffed as if to say, Of course.
Kayden laughed softly, getting to his feet. “Very well then. Guard her well. I leave her in yer care,” he murmured.
He patted the bed, and Rua immediately jumped up, settling against Lilliana’s side.
“Good boy,” Kayden said. He cast one final glance at Lilliana, his gaze running over her face. “He will look after ye. Daenae worry. Whatever plagues yer dreams, it cannae hurt ye here.”
The clash of iron against iron was loud in the forge as Kayden hammered out a new blade. He was bare-chested despite the cold, rainy weather. He was glad of the hard, grueling work that required his entire focus. It kept his mind off his wife.
It had been almost a week rather than the ‘day or two’ that Fergus had promised, and she was still abed. When he allowed himself to think about it, he could feel the fear licking at his mind.
He had experienced plenty of loss in his life, but he was not ready to lose his wife. He heard footsteps approaching and immediately recognized them as Jacob’s.
“Lady McGill is awake,” Jacob said without preamble.
Kayden paused, panting slightly with exertion. He did not look at his cousin. “Is that so?”
“Aye. Betsy says she is awake and talking, itching to leave her bed.” Jacob chuckled. “She is even asking about trade routes and supplies for some reason.” He shrugged.
“Perhaps she is still delirious.” Kayden resumed hammering.
“Perhaps.” Jacob watched him work for some time. “Will ye nae go and see her?”
Kayden kept hammering and gave no response.
With an amused snort, Jacob walked away.
Later that afternoon, Kayden was still in the forge when he heard much lighter footsteps approaching. He paused, his heart speeding up, before continuing his work.
“That is impressive. You are a laird and a blacksmith?” Lilliana asked saucily.
He cast a glance in her direction. “Some men have more than one skill. I ken it is an anathema to a sassenach.”
He saw her frown out of the corner of his eye and felt a pang of regret for his coldness.
“If you are so dead set against English people, why did you marry me?”
The hurt in her voice made his stomach twist, and he paused his work to look at her. “I shouldnae have said that. I apologize.”
She gaped at him. “You apologize?”
He smirked at her. “Why do ye sound so shocked?”
“Well, perhaps because I never thought I would see the day. Ye have been nothing but dismissive and arrogant since I arrived here.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Have I?”
“Yes, you have.” She gave him a challenging look.
They stared at each other in a standoff; the only sound was the roar of the fire.
Suddenly, Kayden chuckled, shaking his head. “Did ye want to see how me swords are made, or is there something else that brought ye here, lass?”
Lilliana’s eyes flicked down to his hands before returning to meet his gaze, then she dipped her head. “I do not know. I was simply passing by and saw you here.”
“Indeed.” He held up the sword. “Come in then and let me show ye what we do.”
She stepped tentatively into the smithy, her eyes on the ground—on the lookout for obstacles, he assumed.
She stepped lightly over a discarded piece of iron and then past a few tools scattered on the floor before coming up to him.
He saw how she followed the line of his arm, from his wrist to his shoulder.
She seemed a bit fascinated, and he quashed down the gratification he felt as a result.
He lifted the sword. “Do ye see the blade? Ye want to make it as tapered as possible, since that increases the sharpness. Would ye like to test it?”
She reached her hand out slowly and ran it over the rapidly cooling metal. She smiled. “It is less hot than I expected.”
“Ach, ye have to keep it in the fire if ye wish it to stay hot. And ye daenae want it to stay too hot once it is out, or it might nae retain its shape.”
“Who taught you this?” She moved closer to him, noticing that he tensed slightly.
“Me faither did. He used to say that a man had to ken how to care for his own sword.”
She smiled. “That is very… broadminded of him. I do not think my father has ever touched an implement in such a manner. Not even to polish it.”