When he tried to move, he grimaced terribly and growled a curse.
"I'm sorry," Jessie said.
"
Och
,
m'laird
, I ken it hurts," Flora said gently, as if to a child. "But if you drink this, 'twill help."
Jessie pushed harder at his shoulder so he could roll toward his right.
'Twas
obvious that he was helping, for she couldn't have moved him so easily if he hadn't.
Flora held the cup to his mouth.
"Drink now, Torrin," Jessie whispered softly in his ear.
He swallowed several mouthfuls, took a few breaths, then drank the rest of the cup.
"Good. That will help," Flora said in an encouraging tone.
Torrin lay back, grinding his teeth together and hissing. Once he'd relaxed, he took several deep breaths. She stroked his forearm, lying on top of the blanket. He lifted his hand and closed it securely around Jessie's wrist.
Flora smiled slightly when she saw this, then returned to arranging the herbal remedies. Jessie pulled the blanket to his chin again but didn't remove his hand from around her wrist. Nay, she rather liked his tight, possessive hold, even in the face of such illness. 'Haps she could help give him the strength to pull through.
A half hour later, Flora was once again snoring beside the hearth, and Torrin was sleeping peacefully. Jessie touched his face, his whisker stubble brushing her palm. He was still rather warm, but the fever was less severe than before.
The rough feel of his stubble sparked the memory of when he'd first kissed her in the chapel, and how he'd talked about his whiskers being prickly and growing back quickly despite his best efforts to keep them shaved off. Tears burning her eyes, she wished he could tease her now… kiss her, make her laugh… and a lot more.
When his grip on her wrist relaxed enough, she moved around the foot of the bed to the other side. Sitting in the chair, she took up the wet cloth again and stroked it over his face, then traced his attractive chestnut-colored brows with her fingertip. She always loved it when he raised one of them, giving her a mischievous look.
His eyes still closed, he grunted and gently took hold of her hand. "Jessie," he said, no louder than a breath.
"Aye."
"Love you," he said.
Tears filled Jessie's eyes. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard. Once she was able to speak, she whispered, "I love you, too."
One corner of his lips quirked upward in the barest hint of a smile, then disappeared.
Though she told the truth, she hoped he wouldn't remember it. Their feelings for each other were strong, but that wasn't the only factor. To a chief and his clan, the heir was of primary importance.
Holding her hand, Torrin lapsed into a deeper sleep.
Soon, dawn light gleamed silvery gray through the narrow window, and Jessie grew more and more sleepy. She would just lay her head down for a minute on the bed to rest her tight shoulders and neck.
The rattle of the door latch startled her awake and she sat upright. The room was lighter now and Iain stood on the threshold.
"How is he?" Iain whispered, then moved to stand at the foot of the bed.
Truth be told, she'd been asleep and wasn't certain. She ran her gaze over Torrin, then laid her palm against his forehead. Still a bit too warm, but not scalding. His breathing was deep and even.
"Very well, I think."
"Thank the saints," Iain said, keeping his deep voice low. "You've taken excellent care of him, m'lady."
"God and the healers deserve all the credit. I merely sat here."
"You did far more than that," Iain said with a slight smile.
She wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she wasn't going to argue.
"Don't tell him I said so, but you, sitting here, holding his hand, will mean more to him than all the medicine in the world."
Her face burned, and she dropped her gaze to study Torrin. He moved a bit, a frown creasing his brow.
Torrin must have talked to Iain about his feelings for her. She wasn't sure whether to feel embarrassed or glad.
"I'll let you both rest," Iain whispered and slipped out the door.
Flora roused from her sleep by the hearth and pushed herself up. "How is the laird this morn?"
"Improving, I think. But mayhap you should check him over to be sure."
Moving to the other side of the bed, Flora placed a hand upon his forehead. "Aye. Still a mild fever, but I think he is doing well, all things considered."
"Thanks be to God," Jessie murmured.
"Aye, I think your prayers helped, m'lady." Flora went back to her herbal concoctions.
How did she know Jessie had prayed for Torrin? She had done so silently. Maybe the woman had simply assumed it, since 'twas obvious Jessie cared a great deal for Torrin.
Moments later,
Nannag
stole into the room, her footsteps so light, Jessie almost didn't hear them. Her white hair was contained beneath a red
kertch
, and her blue eyes were as bright as the morning sky.
"The lad is doing well, aye?" she asked in her papery thin whisper. "His color is better."
'Twas
true. How had Jessie missed that? Last night, he had been so pale.
"Aye," Jessie said, feeling more hopeful.
Torrin shifted again with a low grunt.
"Mayhap you would like to get him some thin porridge while we check his wounds,"
Nannag
suggested.
Jessie didn't see how a woman in her nineties could be so chipper and spry this early in the morn. She must have slept well.
Jessie stood and rubbed her low back; it ached from having sat in the same position so long.
"You need to eat something, too,"
Nannag
told her. "'Twill take us about a half hour to re-bandage his wounds."
But would he miss her if she wasn't there when he woke up? Maybe she should go ahead and wake him now to tell him where she was going.
"Torrin?" She touched his forehead.
"Hmm?"
"I'm going to get food. I'll be back soon."
He opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times, a frown contorting his brow, then studied her. "Aye."
"How do you feel this morn?"
"Like hell… if you wish the truth." His deep voice was raspy.
"You are improving though." Aye, his face wasn't as pale, and he was not growling lengthy curses as he had been the evening before. She wanted to kiss his forehead to reassure him, but couldn't with
Nannag
and Flora watching. They'd make something of it, when she wanted to keep the true nature of their association secret.
"Aye," he agreed, but in a dull tone.
"They will take good care of you." She motioned to the two healers.
"Come back soon," he whispered, his dark green gaze pleading with her.
"I will, and I'll bring you porridge, which you must eat," she said in a mock stern tone.
"I make no promises."
***
A half hour later, Torrin lay propped up against pillows in bed while he imagined Jessie. Thoughts of her were the only things that distracted him from the piercing agony in his abdomen. The healers were excellent, of course, but, since the evening before, they had inflicted prohibitive amounts of pain upon him. Only the younger one remained in the room at present. Thankfully, the bandages were changed and they'd given him some sort of bitter herbal tea to drink.
When someone entered the room, he opened his eyes.
Jessie.
Thank the saints. He'd missed her. She carried a tray containing a bowl and cup. Hell, she was going to make him eat. The very thought of food made him want to retch.
"You are feeling better, aye?" she asked with a little smile.
"Indeed." He could lie if it made her happy.
She set the tray on the bedside table. "Flora, would you like to go break your fast?"
"Aye, if you think you can handle his lairdship."
"If he gets too unruly, I'll send someone for you," Jessie said.
The healer grinned and left the room.
"
Och
. As if I could be unruly," Torrin muttered.
"Once you eat, you will feel stronger."
He hoped she was right, for at the moment he felt weaker than a two-day-old
bairn
. Though he hated for her to see him like this, it couldn't be helped. He'd much rather have her at his bedside than not. He thought she had stayed with him all night. A couple of times when he'd awakened, she had been there. Either that or 'twas a fevered dream.
"Did you stay with me last night?" he asked.
"Aye, of course." Her blue eyes reflected such devotion, he could hardly believe it. "Do you not remember?" she asked.
Another memory flashed through his mind like lightning—she'd whispered:
I love you
. Saints! Was it really true? He had seen the tears glistening in her eyes and heard the emotion thick in her voice. But he was afraid if he mentioned it, she would retreat and become defensive again. He knew she was but trying to protect her vulnerable heart. Knowing she loved him, he was so thankful he could dance. Well… he'd best not do that now. He might do himself grievous harm.
"I remember some of it," he said vaguely. "And I thank you for being here with me."
"No need to thank me." Holding the bowl of porridge in her hand, she used a wooden spoon to scoop some up, then held it before his mouth.
"I can use my hand," he said, lifting it, though it was slightly sore and weak. He'd be mortified if Iain or another man came into the room and witnessed Jessie spoon-feeding him.
She cocked her head sideways. "You don't like the way I do it?"
"Of course, 'tis only…"
"I want to help you," she said, the sincerity in her tone, as well as the beautiful emotion in her eyes, clutched at his heart.
"Very well. But if Iain or any of the men come for a visit, you must stop. They'll think I'm a
bairn
."
Jessie grinned. "Oh, I see. Stubborn male pride rears its ugly head again."
"
'Tis
a hardship I must endure," he said drily.
Shaking her head, she offered him the bite of oat porridge again, and he opened his mouth to accept it. His stomach almost rebelled, but he closed his eyes and forced himself to swallow.
"Delicious," he said.
'Twas
not a lie; the porridge was slightly sweet and salty, with butter and honey, but his stomach felt like the pits of hell. He wasn't sure how many more bites he could tolerate.
He accepted another spoonful, and once he'd forced it down, he said, "While that digests, tell me what is happening around here."
She shrugged. "Three MacKay guards were injured in the same battle you were hurt in, but they are doing well. Erskine is still improving."