“Rum!” she groaned to which one of her sisters giggled.
“Do not…” They knew she meant that they should not bother her. Would they respect her warning and remain quiet or see this as an opportunity to torment her?
“I have made coffee and kept it warm and set aside bread for you,” Nicoll offered. “Mr. McNaught said that tea would be better and had he known that you would overindulge and be in need of it to help your stomach, he would have brought some back in the supplies.”
Tempest groaned. “When was he here?”
“An hour ago.” Nicoll grinned.
“Why did you not wake me?”
“He said not to disturb you because you would be in pain.”
Oh, she wanted to pull the blanket over her head and go back to sleep until her head stopped pounding, her stomach settled, and she could erase the humiliation and knowledge that Rhys had been in the house, this one room house where nothing could be hidden, especially her, while she slept.
“How did I get in bed?” she asked after a moment because she did not recall retiring last night.
“You fell asleep on his shoulder and Mr. McNaught carried you inside and tucked you in bed.”
Tempest groaned again.
“Blasted rum,” she murmured to herself.
“What was that?” Nicoll asked a little too cheerfully.
“Nothing!” Tempest pushed the covers away and stood before she took a seat at the table. Nicoll poured coffee in a cup and slid it toward her. Tempest nearly spilled it when she reached forward and grasped the handle.
She’d forgotten what had led to the drinking—the stitches in her hand, that now throbbed because she had tried to use it.
Instead of using her right hand, she lifted the cup with her left and brought it to her lips. In fact, she did everything with her left hand from eating to putting on her shoes and brushing her hair. It was quite inconvenient, but at least her attempt to lift the cup had not torn at the stitches because no blood appeared on the bandage.
“Well, I suppose that I should go apologize to Mr. McNaught.”
“Why would you need to do so?” Nicoll asked.
“I am not certain but when a person has indulged in too much drink, they usually have reason to issue an apology.”
How much of the night before did she remember and how much had she forgotten, and which was worse?
Even though her stomach had settled after she ate the bread, her head still pounded, but she could not put off facing Rhys any longer and found him sitting on a log whistling while he sanded a piece of wood.
“Good morning, Tempest. I take it you slept well.”
She placed her fingers on her temples. “Please do not yell.”
“I did not.” He chuckled.
Perhaps he hadn’t and she was simply more sensitive.
“What are you doing?”
“Sanding wood.”
Yes, she already knew that. “Why?”
“So it fits in that hole better and that it is smooth.”
She looked over and tilted her head, which had been a mistake. She quickly closed her eyes again as she straightened her neck.
