Page 22 of Tempting the Highland Captive

“I have searched every place that I could think she might be including the hall, the kitchen, the kirk.”

“Ye have searched every room in the castle?”

“Aye, except for yer room and the warriors’ quarters as My Lady would have nae need tae go there. I have men searching the village as we speak.”

Ron nodded. “I will join the search. Let me put these things down and I will go down tae the loch tae search for her there.”

“Aye.” Maggie nodded gratefully. “Perhaps she wished tae bathe.”

Ron nodded and shoved the door to his room open. All was as he had left it except for his bed looked as if someone had slept in it and recently. Taking the few strides that it took to cross the room; Ron placed his hand on the bed and found that it still held some lingering heat. A soft moan, from the floor beneath the bed, startled him and he circled around to the other side. There on the cold stone floor lay a flushed sleeping Amelia.

“Maggie,” Ron called for the cook and motioned her to enter. He reached out to stir Amelia awake only to find that she was burning with fever. Shocked, he scooped her up off the floor and laid her down upon the bed. Amelia moaned but did not wake. “Amelia?” Ron called out her name, to no response. “Maggie she is fevered. I fear she is ill.”

Maggie bustled over to her lady and laid a hand upon her flushed face. “She worked so hard yesterday, as hard as any man, cleaning the village. The poor thing has worn herself tae nae.”

Ron shook his head. “’Tis more than that. She is nae a weak lass.” Ron searched her body for signs of illness such as a rash or a wound. When he came to her hands and felt the swollen fevered flesh, he flipped them over and searched their surface. What he found was a series of infected splinters. He moved down her body and found the same thing on her legs and feet. One of the wounds was quite large and already had puss oozing out of it. He studied it closely and found that it was a rather nasty burn with bits of wood and other debris in it. “Bring me a lit candle,” he commanded Maggie and she immediately obeyed. “I am goin’ tae need somethin’ tae clean this with.”

“I will go down and brew the lass some tea tae bring down the fever and tae wash the wounds in,” Maggie informed him, then bustled off telling one of the warriors in the corridor to call off the search for the lairdess.

“Ron,” Amelia’s voice croaked out his name, her eyes attempting to focus on his face.

“Aye, ‘tis I, lass. Dinnae fash now, I will take care o’ ye.”

“Ye came back.”

“Aye, o’ course I did. I made ye a promise, remember.”

“Aye.” She nodded her head, but then stopped, the motion taking more energy than she had. “I am sorry that I fell asleep in yer bed. I was restless and,” her words drifted off as she winced.

“And in pain,” he finished for her.

“Aye, I must have hurt myself more than I thought. My leg,” she gasped as she attempted to move it so that she could look at it.

“Dinnae fash, lass, I am here tae take care o’ ye now. Lay back and I will see ye tae rights,” he murmured soothingly.

“I thank ye,” she murmured, shivering. She was sweating and chilled at the same time and he worried for her. “Ye sound as Maggie did when I was ill as a child,” she told him with a fond smile.

Ron chuckled. “I am honored by the comparison.” He placed the candle on the side table to give him the best possible light to work by, withdrew his knife and passed it over the flames until the metal was cleansed, then set about removing the splinters from her hands and feet. When Maggie returned with everything that was needed to treat Amelia’s burn, they worked together to see that it was thoroughly cleansed. “What is this?” he asked Maggie as she handed him a bowl filled with a golden yellow substance.

“’Tis a combination o’ eggs, rose oil, and turpentine tae put on the wound. ‘Tis used by that French surgeon, Ambroise Pare, tae treat wounds. The laird had some o’ the man’s books in his library and I would go in there tae read from time tae time. I found some o’ it tae be quite helpful,” Maggie explained, showing him how to properly apply the mixture. “My own maither, God rest her soul, used snails when we would be burned by the hearth fire or a candle as children.”

“Mine used honey,” Ron confided. He had planned on doing the same for Amelia, but let the older woman take the lead since she appeared to be the more read of the two of them on the subject. If the strange concoction did not work, Ron could always come back and pour honey over the wound. As they worked, Amelia did her best not to show pain, but he could see it in her eyes and could hear it in the tiny moans and gasps that escaped her lips. When they were done tending her wounds, they sat her up and made her drink the willow tea to aid with fever and pain.

“Did Michael Rossell have anythin’ tae do with the state o’ ye, lass?” Ron inquired, wanting to make certain that she had not been harmed more than what Lucas had known about.

Amelia hesitated before answering causing Ron’s neck to prickle. “Perhaps nae directly,” she sighed at last, “but I cannae help tae think that he was responsible for the fire in some way whether he lit it himself or had someone light it on his behalf.”

“He is fully capable o’ it,” Ron replied, attempting not to show her how angry the thought made him. I should have killed him the first time.

Another shiver passed over Amelia, drawing Ron’s thoughts back toward the present situation. “Ye need tae rest, lass. We will discern the truth o’ the fire soon enough, but ye need tae recover. Yer people need ye in good health.”

“The lad is right, lass. Ye need tae rest. I will see tae our people in the hall. When Lucas returns, he can see tae the men,” Maggie agreed with Ron, then gathering her things, left the room.

Amelia tried to rise from the bed. “Dinnae attempt tae move,” Ron warned her, concerned that she would fall.

“I cannae stay in yer bed,” she argued, shaking her head.

“Aye, ye can. Ye are my wife. There is nae amiss with ye sharing my bed.”

“My parents did nae share a bed,” Amelia informed him as if that explained everything.

Ron snorted. “Well, they did at least once, lass, or ye would nae have been born.” Amelia looked up at him sharply with pain in her eyes and he instantly regretted his flippant words. “We are nae yer parents, lass. Our marriage is nae like many others, I ken, but it is nae unusual for a husband and wife tae share a bed. I dinnae need tae sleep next tae ye upon the bed, but I am nae leaving ye without someone tae watch o’er ye. I would nae forgive myself if anything happened tae ye and I was nae here tae help ye.” Ron took a blanket from the chest at the foot of the bed. “I will sleep on the floor. All ye need do is call out for me and I will be by yer side.”

“I cannae stay,” Amelia attempted to argue further to no avail, her fatigue getting the better of her as she collapsed back against the pillows.

“Aye, ye can and ye will,” Ron replied soothingly, adjusting the blanket over her as she drifted off to sleep once more. As Ron laid down on the floor beside her, he had the strongest urge to take her into his arms and never let her go.