Needing to get her out of her rain, Galen slid one arm under Laoghaire’s knees and the other around her back, pulling her against his chest. He rose to his feet and swiftly made his way to the stairwell. As he began to descend the staircase, Laoghaire’s eyelids suddenly fluttered open.
“I hollered yer name, over and over,” she said in a voice that was little more than a husky whisper.
“I never heard your cries. No one did,” he added, suspecting that between the thunderous rumblings in the night sky and the loud merriment in the great hall, her screams for help had gone unheeded.
“I thought ye had—” barely able to speak, Laoghaire paused to catch her breath—“had abandoned me.”
Christ on the cross! Why didn’t I go and look for her sooner? If she dies on account of my damnable pride—
No!Galen refused to countenance the thought that Laoghaire might die.
When he reached the bottom step, Galen called out in a loud voice, “Coira! Hurry! I have need of you!”
Having evidently been waiting for him in the corridor, Coira bustled into the bedchamber ahead of him. She hurriedly lit the trio of candles in the tall pricket beside the bed. Once she was finished with that she gestured for him to place Laoghaire upon the mattress.
As Galen carefully laid Laoghaire on top of the fur coverlet, the candle threw a golden light onto her prone figure, her garments so wet that the entire outline of her body was visible through the soaked fabric.
Kneeling beside the bed, Galen gently pushed hanks of hair away from Laoghaire’s brow while he peered at her face. Though alarmed to see that her lips had turned an unnatural shade of blue, he was even more concerned by the glassy, unfocused look in her eyes. Despite the fact that Laoghaire peered directly at him, he sensed that she could not see him. It made him think that she was there in body, but not in spirit.
At that moment he felt completely helpless. Over the course of his life, he’d witnessed death on many occasions, and thus he knew how easily a life could be extinguished.
Needing to dosomething, he clasped Laoghaire’s right hand in his and pressed it against his heart; if for no other reason than to reassure her that she was not alone. “I will never abandon you,” he whispered, the words spoken as a vow.
“Och! By all the saints!” Coira exclaimed worriedly, as she placed the back of her hand to Laoghaire’s flushed cheek. “She’s burning up with the fever.”
“I know,” Galen said quietly, having felt the furnace-like heat emanating from Laoghaire’s body when he carried her to the bedchamber.
’Tis my fault, he acknowledged guiltily, certain that Laoghaire sought sanctuary on the battlements in the aftermath of their heated exchange earlier in the day. Having done so, she could not have foreseen that someone would bar the door, trapping her on the walkway during the violent tempest.
“Ye should leave the room, my lord,” Coira said in a kindly voice, placing a commiserating hand on the top of Galen’s shoulder. “We will make certain she is well taken care of.”
Glancing at the door, Galen saw that two female servants had entered the bedchamber, their arms laden with all manner of items, from woolen blankets to baskets filled with medicinal herbs.
Still holding onto Laoghaire’s hand, Galen placed it on the bed. Though reluctant to leave, he nevertheless rose to his feet. “Should you have need of me, I shall be in the great hall. Please keep me apprised of her condition.”
Upon leaving the bedchamber, Galen made his way to the circular stairwell that led to the battlements. For several moments he stared contemplatively at the stairs.
Why would someone have barred the door?It made no sense unless—
At hearing a rustle of fabric, Galen spun on his heel, surprised to see Melisande step out of the shadows. But he was even more surprised by the fact that her hair was unbound, the thick, golden-blonde tresses framing her torso. In the flickering light cast by a nearby wall cresset, she appeared to him like a beautiful, shimmering apparition.
Galen remained silent as she approached, baffled as to why she was there.
Coming to a standstill but a handbreadth from where he stood, Melisande peered up at him with an expectant look on her face. Her cheeks and lips were stained with vermilion, and Galen could smell the scent of roses on her person.
“I will gladly give you all the mercy you need,” Melisande murmured, gracing him with a womanly smile, one that held the promise of shared pleasures.
Staggered by the provocative offer—and tempted despite his best intentions not to be—Galen stared at Melisande, unable to tear his gaze from her.
Without thinking, he very lightly brushed his curled knuckles across her cheekbone. “I pray thee, lady—”
The sentiment went unspoken when Melisande unexpectedly wrapped her arms around Galen’s neck and pressed her lips to his, effectively silencing him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Laoghaire flung open the bedroom window and breathed deeply. Having been confined to her sick bed for so many days that she’d lost count, she was in dire need of the fresh morning air. And much like someone who’d been cast into darkness, she instinctively sought the light of the sun. But to her dismay, instead of sunshine she was met with gray skies.
Gray. Like the color of Galen’s eyes.
