Mary peered into the distance. “Nay. Ye have to stay until we get to Inverell so ye can get a doctor for the lad.”
Iain moaned. “Nay,”...mumble...“Inverell . . . Cumberland.”
Looking from Iain to Abby, Mary nodded. “Aye, there will be English there for certain.” She felt Iain’s forehead. “Mayhap ye can stop his fever, but if ye cannae, he weel die.”
Iain grabbed Abby’s hand. “Must leave.”
Abby didn’t know what to do. If they stayed with the MacDonalds, the English would catch them for sure and the family themselves would be in danger, but if she left with Iain, he could die.
Colin talked to Mary quietly at the end of the cart, and once he’d left, Mary pulled some plants from a small box and handed them to Abby.
“This one is Peruvian bark from France, and this is willow bark. Boil them in water and feed it to him on the hour. Ye must do this until the fever breaks.”
Abby smiled. She could do that. “Thank ye,” she said, using the Scottish term foryouwithout thinking.
Lara handed Abby a small bottle of cream. “It is a lotion made from carline thistle. Put it on ye man’s wound to ease the infection.”
“Very good, Lara, I had forgotten about that,” Mary said, and then she called out, “Stop the cart.”
Once Tavis brought the cart to a stop, all except Iain hopped out of the wagon, and Mary frowned at Abigail. “Be careful, child, and do as we say.”
Abby nodded. “I will.”
They hugged and said goodbye. “I hope I see ye again,” Mary said.
“Me too,” Lara said, giving Abigail a bag of food.
Abigail gazed inside, tears welling in her eyes. “This is too much.”
“Nay,” Mary said. “Colin and the lads weel hunt now that we are in the hills. There’s plenty of game aboot.”
Giving her a one-armed hug, Abigail said, “Thank you for your kindness.”
Colin and his sons carried Iain to the rundown building. Tavis helped Abigail drag out a cot from a side room and place it in the main room. It was the only room with a fireplace. Actually, it was a hole in the ground in the middle of the room, but Abby recognized it as a fire pit. A great kettle hung to the side from a chain attached to the roof. A pot and a griddle rested against the back wall.
Colin and Parlin placed Iain on the cot with as many blankets as they could spare, and once they’d started the fire, they left. Abby was once again alone with the Scot.
She gazed at the man and willed him to get well and wake up.
Chapter 14
Iain woke. His head ached as if someone had hit him with an axe head. His blurry sight had him wondering if he’d had sand thrown into his eyes. He blinked, but his eyelids ached with the movement. That small movement sent a quaking throughout his body, every nerve screaming at the intrusion.
He stilled and concentrated his focus.
Reward.
Through his hazy vision, he could see his angel dozing in an old chair. Her long hair fell loose about her as she lay with her hands under the side of her head resting on the arm of the chair. He smiled at her pink kissable mouth. She was a bonny lass. She had taken off her cloak and used it to cover her body. The memory of his arms around those curves sent tingles down his spine.
He dragged his gaze from her and looked about. They were in an old farmhouse, and he was in a bed. The smell of peat fire filled the room, but he heard no other sounds. They were alone. Any other time, he would be thankful, but withthe English army and their Scottish allies scouring the Highlands for Jacobites, they were in danger.
Even if he was well and healthy, they would be at a disadvantage, but with his body aching and his fevered mind still swirling in confusion, he couldn’t even lift a sword. He couldn’t protect her. Whether asleep or awake, protecting her was all he’d thought about since the attack on the MacDonalds’ group.
If any of their enemies found them, Abigail would be at their mercy. Knowing how they would treat her, his heart lurched. He shouldn’t have let the MacDonalds leave them there. He should have fought for the lass’s safety.
But no, he wasn’t thinking clearly. They couldn’t go to Inverell. They would have put the entire family in danger for being associated with a Jacobite fighter. He frowned. He should have insisted Abigail stay with the MacDonalds. He’d had fevers before. He could have slept through the worst of the heat, and once it had broken, if it broke and he lived, he could have been on his way to Dorpol. Alone, he would have covered more ground faster.
One of Abigail’s feet fell out from under her cloak. The material slipped, exposing a long, naked leg. And a more perfect leg he had never seen. He knew he should, but he couldn’t drag his eyes off her. His mouth went dry and heat rose through his body. He choked back a gasp
