“Aye,” Jeane said quietly.
“I didnae ken my father,” Lottie said softly. “But Fergus tells me he was a good man. A good father. Carried me around on his shoulders all the time.”
Jeane smiled. “That’s good, Lottie. I’m glad that yer brother gave ye that memory.”
Lottie started to cough, and Jeane beat on her back until Lottie spit up mucus into a handkerchief. Jeane looked at the sputum with healer’s eyes. It was nearly clear. Lottie’s lungs were getting better.
“I’ll give ye a draught for that cough, but it may put ye to sleep.”
Lottie sighed. “Aiden isnae comin’ by anyway. I braided flowers into my hair for nothin’.”
“Not for nothin’,” Jeane insisted. “It’s nice to look pretty, isnae it??
“I suppose so,” Lottie said with a little smile.
She settled back into bed and drank the draught Jeane gave her.
She drifted off within a few moments, and Jeane watched her chest rise and fall, listening for a wheeze. There was only a slight one, and it encouraged Jeane.
She wanted the lass to be healthy. She knew how much Fergus loved her. And plus, Jeane was starting to love her, too. It was hard not to, as bright and sweet as Lottie was.
She didn’t blame Aiden for falling in love with her.
If only her love life was as young and uncomplicated as theirs.
Fergus made his way to the dungeon with vigor, his wounds finally healed enough that he felt confident he wouldn’t rip out the stitches. In fact. Jeane was due to take them out, but Fergus hadn’t seen her in days.
And he hated that he missed her terribly.
She didn’t want him. Had rejected him nearly outright, but he still wanted her. Ached for her.
So he was looking forward to interrogating one of the Leary clan in his dungeon.
It would take his mind off Jeane if nothing else would.
And so far, nothing else had.
The guards parted as Fergus approached, and he stepped into the dungeon, staring straight into the first cell.
A man in a tattered tunic sat on the floor, shoulders slumped, head hanging down. Blood spattered his face and throat from a broken nose.
Fergus had ordered his men to take the would-be attackers alive, but he hadn’t specified unhurt.
Good, Fergus thought.
He had no sympathy for anyone affiliated with Fife Leary.
Fergus nodded to one of the guards, and the guard automatically unlocked the door.
The man looked up. He didn’t speak, but he started to tremble.
Fergus’ mouth twisted in a vile grin.
“Ye’ve heard of me, havnae ye?”
The man still didn’t speak.
“The Beast of McCloud Castle,” Fergus snarled, crouching down to face the prisoner.
