“More,” he said, stretching upward.
She pressed the center of his chest. “Later. When we are both better rested, aye?”
His stomach clenched and growled again like a caged beast about to break free. Ominous cramping hit low in his gut, making him hug an arm around his middle. “This willna bode well,” he groaned as a cold sweat peppered his brow. “Pull the commode closer, then leave, ye ken?”
She dragged the chair closer, then turned to help him rise. “I willna leave with ye weak as ye are.”
“I will not have ye here while my innards turn themselves inside out.” Head swimming, he tried to focus on getting to the chair without passing out. “Please, Lorna, I beg ye. Leave me with a shred of dignity, aye?” He had already been shamed enough for allowing himself to be duped by that witch.
“Fine, then. I will wait in the hall. Just outside the door.” Concern filled her face as she set the buckets closer to the chamber pot chair. “But if I hear a loud thud, I am coming back in.”
He waved her away, no longer able to speak while maintaining a hold on the demon about to rip from his bowels.
*
Lorna wearily leanedback against the door, wincing at the sounds coming from inside the library. Between bouts of retching, Gunn groaned and shouted in Gaelic that his arse was on fire. Maybe. It had been a long time since he had used that language for anything other than words of endearment.
She understood his need for privacy but felt guilty about standing in the hall when she could help him with cool, damp cloths and sympathy. Each time he went quiet for a short time, she eased open the door only to have him bellow, “Out!”
“Well, his hearing is fine.” She wondered if it was the squeak of the door hinges or the floorboards that gave her away. But at least he was alive. That was all that mattered. She hugged herself. No, that was not all that mattered. Not only did he live, but had also decided to risk caring for someone again. And that someone was her.
“Dear God in heaven,” Jasper said as he rounded into the hall. “Is he…?”
“He is all right.” She waved him forward. “Remember what Mrs. Thistlewick said about the aftereffects of the belladonna?”
Renewed retching, loud and rumbling, came from the other side of the door.
Jasper made a face. “Shitting fire too? Like she said?”
Lorna nodded. “From what I can remember of my Gaelic, he either said his arse is on fire or he is shitting fire. I am a little rusty.”
“Either way.” Jasper shrugged. “I should alert Mrs. Thistlewick. She might have a tisane to help settle his guts.”
“Before ye go, please go in there and check on him. He refused to let me stay in there while he…” She left it at that.
Jasper squinted at the door as though it were a fire-breathing dragon. “I dinna ken so much about my going in there.” Leeriness shouted from the war chief. “The man doesna handle ailing well. ’Tis usually best to leave the beast to himself.”
“Coward.”
Both of Jasper’s brows hiked to his hairline as he jabbed a finger at the door. “Ye are damn right I am when it comes to that.”
“Please?” She mustered the most pitiful expression possible. “I am worried about him, and he probably needs both the buckets and chamber pot emptied by now.”
“I damn sure willna be doing that.” He threw up a hand and spun about to leave. “I shall fetch a couple of lads to take care of that wee delicacy and get Mrs. Thistlewick to brew a tisane.” Partway down the hall, he paused. “What about Bella? Should we wake her and let her know?”
Another loud growl rumbled from within the library, making Lorna shake her head. “Let the child sleep. Hopefully, the worst of it will have passed by morning and he will be fit to see her.”
Jasper nodded and continued down the hall, leaving her standing there helpless outside the door.
Exhausted but determined to stay at her post, she leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. Arms propped on her knees, she rested her head atop them. After what felt like only the blink of an eye, the sound of footsteps jarred her back to her feet.
Mrs. Thistlewick, with a steaming teakettle in one hand, a hefty mug in the other, and her apron pockets bulging, led the way. A trio of lads followed. One carried an armload of linens. The next toted more steaming kettles, and the third toted a pair of empty buckets. Jasper brought up the rear, his expression darker than a storm.
“Ye should go to yer bed, lass,” Mrs. Thistlewick said after a hard up-and-down scowl of her.
“No. I promised him I wouldna leave.” Lorna opened the door for the parade but stopped Jasper from entering after the others. She closed the door, glanced down the hall behind him, then kept her voice low. “What is it? Ye have a face like thunder.”
“I spoke with Forsy about Lady Murdina.” His jaws flexed as though he fought not to spit after saying the woman’s name. “She said the woman was ill yesterday morning.”
