Cameron glanced at her while taking the next step and the one after that. As long as she guarded her feelings, he was reluctant to declare his. Maybe once she returned from Grant, things might change between them. He would remain here at least that long.
Mary askedJanie to take Cameron’s meal to his chamber. She couldn’t face him again. Not yet. Not with what, to her, felt like a betrayal hanging between them. The fact that her father forced her to leave made little difference. In Mary’s heart, she wanted to remain behind with Cameron and knew staying with him was the right thing to do. But her head argued for the duty she owed her father and laird.
She had just finished her own meal in the great hall with some of the clan, when Janie came running back and stopped below where she sat on the raised dais.
“He’s actingtetchedagain, milady. I think ye need to come.”
Mary jumped to her feet and hurried after Janie across the hall, past the concerned gazes of the people there. They all knew about Cameron, though few had met himyet. “Fetch the healer,” she ordered when they reached the stairs. “Then bring cold water and cloths. I’ll go on up.”
“Aye, milady.” Janie hastened away.
Mary ran up the stairs to his chamber and found Cameron sprawled in tangled sheets, tossing his head. She rushed to his side and put a hand on his brow. “Ach, nay,” she muttered under her breath. His fever had increased again. “Cameron, ’tis Mary. It appears ye did a wee more than ye shouldha today. How do ye feel?”
He stilled. “Like hell.” He turned his face away from her. “Sorry, lass.”
“Apology accepted.” She pulled the covers aside. His shirt was already wet and clammy with his sweat. What had happened between earlier today and now? “Cameron, let me pull up yer shirt. I need to see yer wound.”
His eyes remained closed underneath a fierce crease between his brows, but his hands pawed at his waist. At least he wasn’t so far gone in fever he couldn’t understand what she said to him. Then she realized he was trying to keep a sheet over his lower half while he helped her with his shirt. It took effort, but she got it free just as the healer bustled in, followed by the serving lass.
Mary stepped aside to let the healer examine the wound. “I’ll take those,” Mary told Janie, who waited by the door with the water and cloths she’d asked for earlier. “I need ye to fetch some watered ale, too,” Mary saw the concern written in the girl’s wide-eyed expression and cocked her head.
“He’ll no’ die, will he?” Janie asked softly. “I like him. I wouldna want him to die.”
“He willna die, nay. We dinna want him to, either.” Mary gave her a reassuring smile and sent her on her way,then set what the lass had brought on the table by Cameron’s bed.
The healer stood and beckoned Mary away from her patient. “I canna understand what set him off again,” she said, speaking softly. “The wound looks to be healing well.”
“So ’tis the blood fever again?” Dread slid down Mary’s spine like cold rain. Had her thoughts about keeping him here ill-wished him into this fever? She shook her head, dismissing the notion. She wasn’t a superstitious person.
The healer frowned. “I dinna ken. What did he do today?”
“I found him in the garden early this morning. We walked a while and talked. I canna think any of that would have harmed him.” She wanted him well. She truly did, despite her thoughts this morning that she’d accept his suffering if pain kept him here longer. She wasn’t normally a cruel person, either.
“Well, we’ll resume the willow bark tea…”
“Ach, nay,” Cameron objected, rising up on an elbow with a wince, clearly having heard at least the end of their discussion. “That bitter stuff.”
“Twill save yer life, ye daft man. If ye’d stayed abed as I told ye, this might no’ have happened.”
“Ye told him to stay abed? When?”
“Just this morn. I found him in yon chair, soon after first light.” The healer gestured at the wooden seat by the window.
“Bored,” Cameron complained. “And now Mary will leave me. More bored.” He held out a hand. “I’m thirsty.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “The maid is on her way withsome watered ale. Ye are no’ so sick as all that. I’ll bring ye a book to read.”
“I’ll get the tea and be right back,” the healer announced and left Mary to tend to her cranky patient, who had dropped back to his pillow and closed his eyes.
“For now, we need to cool ye.” She put the cloths into the water pitcher to let them soak, then wrung one out. “This will be cold.”
“I ken it. ’Tis no’ like ye have no’ done this to me before.”
In answer, Mary laid the cold cloth on Cameron’s chest.
“Shite! Could ye warn me?”
“Ye could open yer eyes.” She spread the cloth across his broad chest, her fingers itching to trace its muscled contours. Instead, she stepped back and reached for another cloth. “Does the light hurt them?”
