Douglas huffed. “Why?”
Catrina came in just then. She looked at Jane in appreciation. “Oh, good, you are done,” she said, staring at the mug. “Well? Ye must drink it immediately, me laird.”
Alistair said weakly, “Please bring it tae me, Jane.”
Jane went to his side. He was a ghost of his usual self. Sweat was pouring down his face. Without thinking, Jane wiped his sweat with a corner of one of the quilts that lined the bed. He looked at her and smiled weakly. “Oh, Alistair, ye must sit up. Only a little.”
Keith stood up and helped him sit up. Jane set the jar on the bed and pressed the mug to Alistair’s bloodless lips and he took two weak sips.
“That is good, Alistair,” Jane crooned as though she was talking to a child, “but you must take all of it. Please.”
Douglas whispered to the other warrior loudly enough to be heard, “What if it is poisoned?”
“Oh, stop, Douglas!” Catrina admonished. She then turned to Jane. “Ye must forgive me husband’s suspicion. He has a terrible history with the English.”
“Ye must forgive me twin sister,” Keith said. “She likes tae make up stories about her husband.”
Jane looked at the warrior and then at Catrina. Apparently, this was a close-knit group, practically a family. And Alistair was, in a way, the head of it. For some reason, this was more impressive than the fact that he was the leader of the Fletcher clan. He was younger than most of them by a few years, and still they respected him and were devoted to him. He had so much responsibility on his shoulders.
“Stop it, Keith!” Catrina hissed at her brother. Keith chuckled. Jane turned back to Alistair to find that he was staring at her intently. Worse still, the other warrior was watching him watch her.
“Leave, all of you,” Alistair ordered, his tone gruff and uneven.
Catrina was the first out of the door. The warriors stood to go, and Jane slowly came to her feet. “Nae ye,” Alistair said to her, weakly reaching for her hand. “Stay.”
Jane sat back down, aware of the looks that were thrown at her before the men left. Alistair turned to her. He made to say something, but Jane held up her hand. “Finish the tea, and then we can talk.”
Alistair groaned. “This is why a warrior should never be down,” he rasped. “Because then even little Englishwomen think they can order him about.”
“Little!” Jane exclaimed. “Why, I am almost as tall as you are!” She paused. “Well, that is not very true, but still. I am ordering you about for your own good, Alistair. You are turning your bed into an ocean. Drink!”
“I dae hope ye have never played nursemaid tae any other person,” he said with a weak chuckle. “Yer bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired. Give me the damn tea.” She obliged, and he drowned the rest of it in one gulp. “Are ye… satisfied?”
“I shall be satisfied when you are healed,” Jane said, and made to get up, but Alistair shook his head. “Is anything the matter?”
“I didnae ken,” Alistair said, “that these would be the circumstances of our next meeting. After the night we shared,” he added.
“Oh,” Jane said and stared at her hands. “You must not think about that while you are suffering.”
“I will choose what tae think about, Jane.”
To that, Jane said nothing.
“You are scared.” Alistair said.
“Worried,” Jane said. “I do not wish to alarm you, but wolfsbane is no small matter, Alistair.” There was a small frown on her face, and her eyes were tinged with worry.
“I understand,” Alistair said.
“Now if you would be as kind as to let me… lift your kilt a little?” Jane said uncertainly.
Despite the pain, Alistair grinned. “I have always kenned, Jane Marsh, that ye are eager tae see what lies beneath me kilt.”
Jane hit him on the shoulder and immediately regretted it. But his face bore no added pain or displeasure. Before she lost the courage, Jane quickly lifted up one side of his kilt. She meant to administer the salve in the jar that she had brought. However, the first thing that she noticed with his thigh this close to her vision, was that it was corded with muscle. Trying to distract herself from that fact, Jane focused on the wound again. It had been cleaned, but it still looked a little worrisome. Then, something caught her eye: a mark further down his leg, similar to the one that was on hers. She gasped, as the words of the witch in the cottage came back to her.
“What is the problem?” Alistair asked.
“Nothing,” Jane replied. But of course, it was a lie. She needed time alone to process what she had just seen. She dipped her fingers into the jar and applied the salve to the wound. Jane pressed a tiny kiss to Alistair’s brow and stood up quickly. The healer came in shortly thereafter. He gazed at her, then at Alistair.
