Gawain patted Emer on the shoulder and guided her to where she could take a seat on a comfortable ottoman. Then when she was sitting down, he went to the serving table and poured her a goblet of whisky. He waited patiently for Emer to open her eyes, aware that she was keeping them tightly closed to help her hold back her tears. When she opened them after gathering her wits, she found Gawain standing there beside her, holding out the goblet.
“Oh, thank ye, sir, but Mistress Burroughs will have a fit if she hears of me drinking anything stronger than milk while I’m working.
“Tush,” Gawain said with a charming smile, “she will never ken,” and he took Emer’s right hand and wrapped her fingers around the drink, “take a wee sip lass-’twill give ye strength.”
Encouraged by his kind words, Emer took a small taste of the amber liquid and felt a bit of strength and focus flood back into her veins.
“Go on, finish it. ‘Tis nae much and will clear yer head,” Gawain insisted.
Emer choked over the last of the whisky, but it did not make her head feel any better. In fact, it made her feel sleepy and weak.
“Thank ye once again, sir, ye are most kind,” and she gave him a brave smile, handing the goblet back to him.
Her hands must have slipped because the goblet fell onto her lap, staining her skirts with the last few drops of liquor.
Gawain took his own lace kerchief from his pocket and blotted up the mess. Then he told her to keep the kerchief as a token to never stand up so quickly every again. Emer was enchanted by his consideration.
Gawain stretched out his hand and lifted her chin, turning her head from one side to the other, saying, “I cannae see any damage, me dear, but maybe that’s because yer beautiful hair is hiding the worst of it.”
I must say, he is so gallant and sweet-natured, I can see why me sister had fallen head over heels for this man. That’s nae all, he has been so gracious to me, and nae mentioned a thing about the drawer. Maybe I got it wrong, and he’s the kind brither while Caillen is the teasing, insouciant one!
“Thank ye for cleaning me chambers so nicely. I insist ye take the rest of the day off. Get yerself upstairs and go lie down next to yer sister. I would never forgive meself if ye were walking on the stairs and the dizziness caused ye to take a tumble. Leave Mistress Burroughs to me. She and I are auld friends since I were a wee bairn. Ye would never think it, but she was used to emptying our pish pots when Cai and I were small lads!”
Emer felt a wave of gratitude wash over her when Gawain said she could go upstairs and lie down.
“I think I will accept yer very kind gesture, sir. I feel so poorly. I have a posset steeping in the distillery...I should go and fetch it and take it to me sister directly.”
Gawain gave her another gentle pat on the back. “Give yer sister me best regards. Tell her I miss her kindly administrations and wish her back to help me as soon as she may. But both of ye must take yer time getting yerselves back to work-I will tell Mistress Burroughs and Cook,andme demanding brither-nae to expect ye both until the roses bloom in yer lovely cheeks once more.”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Emer had poured the medicine into a small vial and gone back to her bedchamber, she was more than ready to lie down for the rest of the day.
Unfortunately, it was not to be. Mistress Burroughs was waiting for her in the room with a sick but frightened-looking Davinia lying in bed, peeking around behind the irate woman’s wide black skirts.
“So!” Mistress Burroughs began berating Emer the minute she stepped into the room, “Ye have bumped yer head and need a lie-down, do ye?”
Emer, confused as to why the housekeeper was so angry, moved to hand her sister the vial of medicine and then replied, “Aye, ma’am. I have permission; the knock was bad.”
As Emer squeezed past the housekeeper to get to Davinia’s side, Mistress Burroughs was close enough to inhale when Emer stood next to her. Emer hoped she did not smell the whisky Gawain had given her. She was already regretting drinking it and could feel her body fighting the drowsiness, headache, and strangely parched mouth strong liquor always gave her.
“Ye are the luckiest girl in all the Kingdom to have such a kind...and might I add -gullible- protector, missy! Get to bed!” Mistress Burroughs swept to the door and added one last parting shot before she left, “Ye disappoint me, lass, ye really do!”
And on those bitter words, the housekeeper left.
“What in heaven’s name did ye do, Em?” Davinia rasped the second the door closed, “Mistress Burroughs blazed in here, nostrils flaring like an outraged stallion, demanding to ken where ye were. I thought she was about to start throwing yer clothes out of the trunk and send ye packing!”
Emer collapsed onto her bed and tried to put the morning’s events into a sequence.
“Naught, I did naught. I was cleaning Gawain’s chambers and cracked me head on the mantelshelf. Both Cook and Mistress Burroughs are distraught because half the staff have come down with this malady. I’m sure they think it’s some conspiracy between us to make them work harder instead of sitting in their cozy parlors all day, drinkin’ tea.”
“Who’s this gullible protector of whom she speaks?” Davinia said as she poured a liberal dose of the elixir into the mug on a rickety wooden table beside her bed and drank it down.
“Go easy with that, Davi,” Emer cautioned, “I added a few drops of laudanum, but ye cannae taste it because of the honey.”
“Never mind all that,” Davinia said impatiently, “Who was it? Mister Banting? The Laird?”
Emer sighed, “Nay, Davi, ‘twas Gawain himself. He saw how hard I hit me head and insisted I take the day off. Angels bless him.”
