“Aye.”
He’d frowned when he answered. Mary took pity on him and used the next cloth to wipe sweat from his face, then laid it across his brow and eyes.
Cameron nodded. “That feels better.”
“I dinna ken why yer fever came back,” Mary soothed, “but we will make it go away.”
“I want ye to stay, Mary. No’ to go with yer da. No one cares for me as ye do.”
“Nonsense. Why, even the serving girl doesna wish ye to die, though I canna see why she likes ye when ye complain like this. Now, stop acting like awean. Ye’re no’ three years old. Ye’ll get better whether I have the care of ye or nay.”
“So ye have made up yer mind to go,” Cameron said softly, as though to himself.
He’d failed to respond to her teasing, making her frown. “I dinna have much choice, now do I?” Mary wrung out another cloth and stroked it along Cameron’s neck and throat. It caught in the bristles of his dark beard and they teased Mary’s fingertips with their rough texture. “We need to get the lad to shave ye again,” she told him. He nodded and tilted his head, giving her better access. Then she got a fresh cloth and wrung it out. “Brace yerself. I’m going to put this one on yer belly.”
“Ye dinna think yer da can take care of himself without ye?” Cameron challenged as she spread the cold cloth below the one on this chest. His only reaction was to tighten the muscles in his abdomen.
Mary was glad he couldn’t see her face. She enjoyed looking at Cameron’s muscles, and the trail of hair that disappeared under the covers. She knew where it led, of course, but that knowledge only made it more compelling. They were not wed. She should not even be aware of what the covers hid. She pulled her thoughts away from Cameron’s generous anatomy. “Nay, I dinna think he can. I dinna ken what that Grant woman is planning or expecting to achieve with this visit. I’m sorry, Cameron. ’Tis my duty to him and to this clan.”
The healer came back then with a cup of the willow bark tea in her hand. “Ye must drink all of this,” she reminded him.
Cameron threw an arm over his eyes.
Though she couldn’t see the upper part of his face Mary knew his expression had to be one of long suffering. He hated the taste of willow bark tea. “Let’s sit ye up,” shetold him and stripped the damp cloths from his body, then tugged at the one he’d trapped between his arm and forehead. “So ye can drink it faster.”
Janie returned then, too, with another pitcher. Her eyes widened at the nearly naked man.
Mary frowned and gestured for her to set the pitcher down, not liking the lass’s reaction, so like her own, to seeing Cameron’s chest. “Then ye can have some ale,” Mary promised.
Cameron wiped his face with the cloth, then handed it back to Mary. With a grunt, he rolled to his side, swung his legs off the bed and sat up, tugging the sheet and woolen blanket along with him over his lap. Then he accepted the cup from the healer and tossed it back, wincing as he swallowed. “Ale…please.”
The serving girl poured some into a clean cup with a shaking hand and gave it to Mary. Mary passed it to Cameron.
He tossed it back, then held out the cup. “More. I can still taste that bitter tea.”
The healer nodded, so Mary let the girl refill the cup and gave it back to him. “Slower this time, aye?” Mary cajoled. He surprised her by obeying. When he finished, he handed her the cup.
“That’s enough for now,” the healer told him. “I’ll check on ye in an hour. I expect to find ye asleep.”
Cameron gave her a wry smile. “I’ll do my best.” Then he turned his gaze to Mary. “Will ye stay?”
“Aye, if only to torture ye some more.” She gestured for Janie to follow the healer out. Mary reached into the water pitcher for another wet cloth. “Lie on yer good side if ye wish and I’ll put some of these on yer back.”
Cameron nodded and did as he was told, keeping the bedclothes over his lower half. Then he rolled to his belly, rested his head on his arms, and turned his face toward her.
Mary lost herself for a moment looking at the way the muscles of his back stretched like wings, then noticed the crease between his eyebrows. “Does lying like that pull at yer scar?”
“A wee bit.”
“Stubborn man.” She shook herself and wrung out a cloth, then laid it over this head, leaving his face uncovered, but pressing a corner of the cloth over his forehead.
Cameron sighed.
Would he sigh like that when he kissed her?
She had to stop thinking that way. After warning him, she placed another cloth on the back of his neck. He rewarded her with a groan of pleasure that reached deep in her belly and made her thighs clench.
She plunged her hand into the cold water to distract herself, then pulled out another cloth. She covered his back, though it took three cloths to span his shoulders and reach down to the swell of his buttocks. She longed to trace the dip in his lower back, but dared not touch him in any way not clearly meant to help him heal.
