“Cool? When she’s taken a fever?”
Darragh realized that wasn’t the normal procedure, but it was the only thing that made any sense to him. Why keep her bundled when she was so hot her skin was reddened? “Please do as I ask.”
A short time later, an older man came to the door with a mug of a hot brew. “A few herbs to cool her fever.” Duncan was the oldest warrior among them and, as such, much respected.
“My thanks.” Darragh held the clay vessel to her lips. She had trouble swallowing so he adjusted it until it was easier for her. “Healing herbs?”
“’Tis what my own mother would give her. The others that were sick are fine now.” Duncan remained in the entrance, his large gray mustache drooping over his turned down lips, watching them.
Darragh felt the tension working into his shoulders. “Is there something ye wish to say?”
“I wonder how long she’s been with fever.” The simple question was full of accusations. Darragh may be in command, but without question, it was Duncan whose advice he sought out most often.
Darragh brushed the dampened hair from her face and pulled at the ties to slip the mantle from her shoulders. “As do I.”
“A new husband should know these things.”
Darragh held his retort, the man was right and he had little defense. “She seeks neither my company nor my bed.”
“Nor d’ye seek hers.”
The man had an answer for everything. Darragh’s ire rose, but wisdom oft came with age. If Duncan had something to say, he’d be a fool not to listen. “I’d hoped to give her some peace.”
“Peace?” The older man spat the word out like a fish bone. “She needs coddling, not isolation.”
“I do not need protection.” Brighit mumbled even as her head lolled back, coming to a rest on Darragh’s shoulder.
Duncan and Darragh exchanged glances. “I know ye have yer work cut out for ye but seeing to the men to avoid seeing to yer own bride on yer honeyed moon is not the way to go about being a happily married man.”
Darragh wanted to ask how a man never married would know such things but knew better.
“Ye’ve left her to herself almost every night.” And the man was relentless.
“She prefers it that way.”
Duncan’s thick brow lowered. “And how d’ye know that is so?”
Done with the niceties, Darragh turned to face the man, though he was careful not to jostle Brighit awake. “Because when I did my husbandly duties, she felt it necessary to knee me in the groin for my effort. Message received, thank ye.”
Duncan’s dark brown eyes widened, and then he nearly fell to the ground laughing.
Darragh only scowled. “Ye can stop acting like an arse.”
Duncan appeared unable to stop, laughing so hard he was grabbing his sides and bending over. Terrence appeared with the cloth and cool water.
“What are ye about?” he asked of Duncan, but his eyes remained on Darragh as he lightly rubbed the cloth over Brighit’s face.
“She kneed our young man.” Duncan spat out between bouts of laughter. “Right in the balls!”
Darragh rolled his eyes. It had been a poor lapse in judgment to tellthisman what had happened. He’d hoped for some bit of advice, understanding in the very least.
Terrence’s frown darkened. “Why would she do that? What did ye do to her?”
Duncan shrugged, getting himself under control, but Darragh was surprised by the question. There it was again—Terrence’s strange protectiveness toward his wife, which neither of them would explain.
“I did nothing a husband is not expected to do.” Darragh’s explanation left little room for comment. He ignored them both, turning his attention instead to Bright, who appeared to be rousing.
“I’m sorry. I am very hot. I didn’t mean to bother ye,” she said.
