“No need, Tobias, I’m staying right here,” Cameron cut him off as he settled her onto the mattress and covered her in blankets.
Her cheeks, flushed from her struggles and the heat consuming her body, were bright red against the stark white of the pillow. He pressed his palm to her forehead, wondering if he imagined that she didn’t feel quite as warm as even moments before.
If she said anything further in her delirium, he wanted to hear it—if only to give him some clue as to where in Ireland she might have come from.
A coastal town? When had she come to Scotland’s shores? Why had she bound her breasts and dressed as a youth? Intuition told him some battle must have been fought where her father had fallen as well as the one she had called Daran. Were they dead? Alive? So many questions roiled within him even as she heaved a shuddering sigh and grew very still.
At once Cameron felt alarm and leaned over her, while Tobias rushed forward to press his fingers to her lips.
“No, Laird, she breathes… but barely. Nothing tae do now but wait, and pray. If you dinna mind, I’ll go tend tae the other prisoner they found with her—”
“Aye, when he wakes, God willing, find out what you can and come at once tae tell me. If I have need of you, I’ll send someone tae fetch you.”
“As you wish, Laird. Keep her well covered and the fire stoked. Cool damp cloths upon her forehead might help.”
Sighing, the healer left the bedside, while Cameron gestured for the maidservants still standing nearby to bring him a chair. He could have done so himself, but he didn’t want to stray more than a footstep away from her on the chance that she might say something.
Anything. A whisper. A word.
Fresh questions seized him as he sat down heavily and stared at the young woman who slept now as if dead.
Her closely cropped hair framing a face that anyone would deem lovely now that the grime had been washed away—so how then could she have passed for a youth? A very pretty youth—och, that didn’t even describe her.
The lass was beautiful. Her fine features perfectly proportioned, her skin as white as cream, her lips a soft red, though woefully chapped—yet with a fullness that made Cameron realize he was staring once again.
Aye, he had seen from where he stood by the fireplace as Tobias had stripped away the rest of her clothing that she was formed as beautifully. Long of limb, her waist narrow, her body lithe and not wasted away, either, as he had at first feared—
“By God, what goes on here?”
Conall’s loud outburst jarring him, Cameron twisted around in the chair, scowling.
“Keep your voice down, will you? She’s sleeping—”
“Aye, so Tobias told me as I passed him on the steps, yet it’syouI’m surprised at, Cameron.”
As Conall came around to the opposite side of the bed to stare down at the lass, he uttered a low whistle that grated upon Cameron even more.
“Dressed as a youth, was she? Here Uncle Torence and I were enjoying our ale by the fire with no clue as tae all the commotion, until I overheard some maidservants scurrying by. I came straightaway, thinking I’d find Tobias at her side—but not you, brother. And in Cora’s rooms as well—”
“Where else was I tae take her?” Cameron cut him off, not liking at all Conall’s evident appraisal of the lass. “The infirmary where she would lie on a cot surrounded by men?”
The harshness of his tone surprising even himself, Cameron turned back to the young woman even as Conall uttered another low whistle—and this time, his brother’s gaze was squarely upon him.
“Ease yourself, Cameron. I can well understand that you consider the lass your responsibility given she’s been suffering among us while we had no knowledge of it. I just know how you are when it comes tae women—and tae see you here sitting beside her…”
Conall grew silent, sighing, which made Cameron grateful that his brother must have decided not to press him further, even as he met Conall’s gaze.
“I’m hoping she’ll reveal her name—or where she’s come from. At least then if she doesn’t survive, we might know how tae reach her family. Already she’s cried out for her father and another man named Daran. A relative? A husband? You know many nobles in Éire have sided with King Robert because of his Irish wife. Mayhap the lass posed as a youth tae join her kinsmen—och, who can say? Pour some water into that basin, Conall, and bring it to me with some cloths.”
“Oh, I’ll fetch it for you, Laird!” came an eager voice behind him, one of the maidservants still present rushing to oblige him.
Cameron didn’t have to see the wench to know she was comely from the look upon Conall’s face, his brother’s appreciation of the fairer sex knowing no bounds.
As for him, Cameron gave the maidservant the barest of nods as she set the basin and linen cloths upon the bedside table, threw a bashful smile at Conall, and then scurried away to rejoin the other two by the door.
“Wait outside,” he ordered gruffly. “If I need anything further, I’ll call for you.”
Cameron heard a murmuring of assent as all three maidservants left the room, and quickly, too, as if his tone had startled them. Meanwhile, Conall chuckled, though he sobered when the most plaintive sigh escaped the lass, making Cameron rise abruptly from the chair to lean over her.
