“What’s wrong with yer sister?” she asked as they walked. The castle seemed endless, unlike the small halls of her father’s place.
“She’s been sick for five days. I was going to find a healer after trainin’ yesterday, but ye saw what happened,” Fergus responded, not looking at her.
“She’s nae improvin’?”
Fergus shook his head. “She’s gettin’ worse.”
“Has she always been sickly?”
Fergus shook his head. “Nay. But Aiden’s brother has. After we meet with Lottie, I will be takin’ ye there.”
Jeane frowned. It seemed she would be doing plenty of work for Fergus, but she supposed that was what she was here for.
“What’s her trouble?” Jeane asked. “Cough? Fever?”
“Both,” Fergus answered quietly. “She’s nae sleepin’, either. Wakes up every night coughin’ so badly she cannae breathe.”
Aiden, the man Jeane had met earlier, was standing in the doorway of Lottie’s room, holding a tray of food.
Fergus nodded at him, apparently nonplussed that the man was in his sister’s bedchambers.
As they breached the doorway, the woman on the bed came into view. She had dark hair and eyes, like her brother, and she was gorgeous, with a heart-shaped face and a thick braid of shiny hair over her shoulder. She seemed to be around Jeane’s age, maybe a year or two younger.
She and Fergus could have been twins, and it would not have surprised Jeane. Her face was too pale, though, sweat breaking out across her brow as she coughed.
The cough sounded wet which alarmed Jeane.
Aiden set the tray down next to her, kneeling to readjust the furs over her shoulders. He looked at her with his brows knitted together, clearly concerned.
Jeane fought back a smile. Aiden was clearly sweet on Lottie, and suddenly, he did not seem so intimidating and frightening.
“Stop fussin’ over me,” the young woman said. She looked up at Fergus when he rapped on the doorjamb. “What are ye doin’ here? Who’s this?”
“I brought ye a healer. She will be workin’ with us from now on.”
Jeane gritted her teeth. She had made no such promise. She looked over at Fergus, about to retort, when Lottie spoke up.
Lottie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, lovely! A healer who isnae an old hag.”
“Ye shouldnae speak ill of the dead,” Aiden scolded, but Lottie ignored him.
“We’ll be the best of friends,” Lottie chattered, and Fergus snorted out a laugh before putting a hand on Aiden’s shoulder. “What’s yer name?”
Jeane wracked her brain, hesitating, but Fergus answered for her.
“Liliana Murdoch,” he said easily, as if he had made it up on the spot.
Jeane looked up at him, surprised, but did not correct him. He was keeping her secret.
Maybe Laird McCloud was not so bad after all.
CHAPTER FIVE
“How old are ye?” Jeane asked, holding a notebook she scribbled in from time to time.
Fergus watched her, rapt.
She seemed to know what she was doing.
