Page 47 of Highland Prince of Darkness

Chapter Eighteen

May could feel the guilt wearing her as though it were a new cloak. She wore it with a sour look on her face as it came accompanied by a wave of pain that felt too heavy to bear. Iain had been hallucinating all night while the pain came and went through his system. He had been talking a lot, and May was starting to wish that she hadn’t heard some of the things that he’d said.

She didn’t know who the men were that he spoke of, but she had an idea of the kind of memories that he had been reliving.

He had spoken about his next target, he had spoken about how he was going to kill certain people. But worst of all had been when he’d admitted that this was never the life that he wanted for himself.

That was the comment that had caused her guilt to rise up like something that she couldn’t control. Iain was still rather pale, but by the time that the dark sky had broken and made way for the morning, the hallucinations had stopped and his breathing had calmed down. The sheen of sweat that had once soaked him was also gone, leading May to a reassurance that he was going to finally get better.l

“How long have I been out?” he whispered suddenly, even though his eyes were still closed.

May gasped at the sudden sound of him talking coherently. It was such a shock that she couldn’t believe she was actually hearing him speak openly.

“I— I’ll get the physician,” May spoke with tears of relief in her eyes. Iain was slowly trying to flutter open his eyes, but he was still incredibly groggy due to the heavy sleeping drafts that had been piled into his system over the last day.

“Just answer the question,” Iain spoke with a sigh, as though he was bored and annoyed by the situation.

“How are ye feeling?”

“How long have I been out for?” Iain asked again, as he glanced over at the bandage that covered his shoulder. Gingerly, he touched it with his other hand, but the wince on his face told May that the wound was still incredibly tender.

“A day or so,” May shrugged it off, as she realized that the Iain coming to wasn’t the Iain that she had spent the night with on their wedding. “Just lie back and I’ll get some help,” she said, while kissing his hand and moving away from the bed to find the physician.

Once he had been called, May moved quickly back to Iain’s bedside as though she were pulled by an external force.

“I’m all right, honestly,” Iain sighed, and tried to shift in the bed but grunted in pain.

“Ye’ren’t. I can see that ye’ren’t,” May shook her head, “Ye’re injured and I dinnae need ye to act like the kind of man that refuses to receive care until they’re better.”

“That’s nae me,” Iain huffed.

“Well, the healer will be here soon. Dinnae make his job too difficult, he’s just going to help ye recover better.”

May was quickly realizing that the man lying in the bed in front of her was still very much the ‘Diabhal’ figure that she had heard about, or was at least trying to be him.

Once the physician came, May finally stood back and let him check on Iain. She felt strange that he was finally awake when she was so exhausted from watching over him. May swallowed down the anger that she could feel building up towards him as she thought about the way that he was being so rude to her when she had been so worried for him.

“Ye’ll make a strong recovery, my laird,” the physician reassured him as he stood back and bowed his head, “Ye’ll need a few days’ rest, but soon ye’ll be healed. There may be a scar…”

“I dinnae care for things like that,” Iain brushed off the comment, “I’ll add it to the collection.”

May winced as she thought about the twisted lines that she’d seen on his skin during their wedding night. They were marks that had glared at her while she moved against him. They were marks that told her that it was her fault that he had become this person, and the last thing that she wanted was another reminder of this.

“Very good, my laird,” the physician said in passing. He had years of treating reluctant lairds on his side that had made him accustomed to not being too affected by the things that men said on their sickbeds. “I’d like to make a comment about yer wife, my laird, if it wouldnae be too bold? I just wanted to let ye ken that she has been at yer bedside the entire time, she has been worried sick for ye. Now, my lady, I would recommend that ye yerself go and get some rest.”

“I dinnae need worry, I need medicine to get better,” Iain muttered in a grumbling tone.

Silence followed his words as both May and the healer realized that Iain wasn’t grateful for her presence at all.

May turned and smiled lightly at Iain in the wake of the healer’s praising comments toward her. She hadn’t done it out of wanting praise. May had stayed out of his bedside out of genuine concern for her husband’s health. But Iain wasn’t smiling back at her.

Instead, his face showed nothing more than disinterest in why she was there. He still looked incredibly weak, but that didn’t hide the power that he could evoke even with just one cutting gaze.

“Ye were saying things in yer sleep,” May spoke in a smaller voice, as she came to sit by his side.

“I was?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“Aye, ye were talking about... things.”