“Ye know I love ye, aye?” Robbie’s face was a picture of worry.
“Aye, my handsome brat. I do know that. And ye know I love ye too. Even more than I loved our minibus.”
His worried expression disappeared.
She smiled as he slipped back out and the door clicked shut again. The lad loved to tease, but his conscience nettled him something fierce if he thought he’d hurt her feelings. She closed her eyes, struggling to get her mind to quiet down and leave her in peace for a bit. Her thoughts refused. Instead, her worries about surviving, saving Teague, and sleeping with the infernal man after just meeting him replayed over and over. Her heart chimed in, whispering that the real reason she had gone to his bed was not only loneliness but because she liked him. More than she had ever liked anyone. Especially someone she had just met.
That revelation irked her. She huffed and smacked away a strand of hair tickling her nose. If she never found Mr. Right in her time, how silly was it to think she would find him here within a few hours of arrival? “Just shut it and go to sleep!”
She squeezed her eyes tighter shut and conjured up images of waves crashing across a beach. As they hit the rocky strand, she counted them off and forced herself to concentrate on their sound. Just as she started drifting away, a knock at the door startled her back to wakefulness.
“What?”
The hinges gave their slow, creaking whine, grating on her already raw nerves.
“I brought ye some tea and a warmed bannock, mistress,” Grissa said softly. “Master Robbie said ye are feeling poorly.”
Curled on her side and determined to remain buried in the pillows, Mila pulled the covers up to her nose. “Master Robbie exaggerates. I didna sleep well last night. That is all.”
Moving with the stealth of a cat, Grissa eased the tray onto the bedside table while bending to peer closer. “Ye do look a mite peely-wally under there.”
Mila gritted her teeth, biting back a very unkindly retort that the concerned maid didn’t deserve. “I promise I am fine. Just overtired because of…things.”
The lass gave an understanding nod. She went to the window and pushed the panes open wide. “Fresh air will do ye a world of good.” She crossed to the window on the other side of the bed and opened it too. “I had a cousin once who fretted herself straight into the grave.” She returned to the table and filled a small, handle-less cup with tea. “Sad wee thing, she was. Always worrying about something.” She placed the delicate porcelain bowl on a matching saucer and held it out. “Drink it whilst it’s hot, aye? It will help with yer ailing.” She wrinkled her nose and lowered her voice. “Is it time for yer courses? I stocked the drawer like I said I would. I can fetch a tisane that helps with the belly pains.”
Mila prayed for control to keep from strangling the well-meaning girl. She pushed up on an elbow, accepted the bowl, and sipped it. Strong and bitter. She almost laughed. Gran had once told her if she didn’t let people close, she would end up like a cup of over-brewed tea: strong and bitter.
“Thank ye, Grissa. The tea is nice.” She took another sip, then handed it back. “Just let me lie abed a little longer, aye? Just an hour or so.” She managed a smile. “I am less ratty when I am rested.”
The maid took the cup and placed it back on the tray. “I just dinna want ye angry with me.” She cast a worried glance down at the meager breakfast while nervously tapping a finger on the table. “Do ye burn those black candles often?”
Mila suppressed a groan. What a bloody hypocrite she was. Warning Robbie over and over to watch his words, and what had she done in one mindless slip? Convinced this poor lass that she was a witch. She had to stanch Grissa’s concerns quickly and nip that worry in the bud.
She sat upright, scrubbed a hand across her forehead, then raked her hair back from her face. “I am not a witch. I dinna cast spells, conjure spirits, or consort with demons. What I said about that black candle was meant in jest, because I am not afraid of Lizzie’s snarkiness.”
Grissa eyed her as if weighing her words for a grain of truth. “I wouldna mind if ye were a witch, ye ken? A good one, that is. Like a healer or a white lady with second sight. That could be helpful to the clan.”
Mila lifted both hands in surrender. “Sorry. I am just me. A woman who talks when she should be listening.”And minding her tongue, she added to herself. She flopped back down, sorted her covers, and released a heavy sigh. “And please dinna think me a lazy layabout. One more hour abed and then I will rise and tend to whatever duties I need do, aye?”
“Ye are certain it isna yer courses?” The lass gave an encouraging nod. “Ye can tell me, mistress. I am yer maid. It is for me to know and help with, ye ken?”
Eyes closed, Mila considered shoving her head under the covers to escape, then decided against it. “It is not my courses. I promise.”
“Hmm.”
She cracked open an eye wide enough to shoot the girl a hard glare. “Go away, Grissa, and I mean that as kindly as possible.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Mila closed her eyes again and waited for the click of the door closing behind the maid. It never came. She sat up and squinted against the blinding sunbeam trespassing across the bed. The maid, hands primly folded in her lap, perched on the end of a chair beside the bath chamber door.
“What are ye doing now?” Mila flinched, hating the shrillness of her tone.
“Ye asked for naught but an hour more in the bed.” The lass shrugged. “By the time I reheated the water for yer washbowl, told Greta to fix ye a proper breakfast, sent the lads for more wood for yer hearths, and told Malie and Dorrie to wait a bit to tidy yer rooms, it would be past time to help ye rise and prepare for the day.” She tipped her head toward the bathing chamber. “So, I pushed the kettles back over the fire and decided to wait here. I didna wish yer day to start late because of me.”
The door leading in from the sitting room flew open. Teague stood framed in it. Barefooted. Clad in nothing but his léine. Long black hair loose and tumbling across his shoulders. “Mila? What is it?” He hurried to her bedside and leaned over her. “Calder came to me straight away when Robbie told him ye were ailing.”
“I will be fetching yer breakfast now, mistress!” Grissa ran for the door. She slowed enough to pull it shut behind her with a quiet bang.
