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Gillian looked around at the unused chamber, glanced at her husband and Morgan, and said, “Your bedchamber.”
Her husband’s tender smile tugged at her heart.
“My . . .” She tried to sit up, but Graeme pressed her back down.
“Aye, your bedchamber. I will not be using it, and ’tis a shame for such a room to remain empty.”
Fiona laid her head back down.
“What happened?” she asked.
Fiona shook her head. “I know not. I remember thinking to check on the grain stores, and I was walking.” She looked at Morgan. “With you?”
“Aye, Mistress Fiona. And then you fell.”
“I did?” She closed her eyes once again. “I don’t remember it, lass.”
“Does anything hurt?” Graeme asked.
Fiona shook her head. “Nay. My thoughts are unclear, as if I am reaching for something I canna’ grasp. But no. Nothing.”
Gillian wasn’t sure why her hands began to shake again. Fiona appeared to be just fine. She was not going to die on them . . . at least not yet.
“Someone should stay with her through the night,” Graeme said.
“I will do it.” Both she and Morgan said it at the same time.
Graeme leaned down and placed a kiss on Fiona’s forehead “I will go find Aidan. Stay with her, but you will both sleep tonight. I will stay awake to watch her.”
“My lord, I can—”
“Thank you, Morgan. But Fiona has been with me since I was a babe. I wish to ensure she is truly well. Besides”—he looked at Gillian—“I am not likely to get much sleep anyway.”
They all turned to look at her. Morgan and Fiona both smiled, though they misinterpreted his remark.
With that, Graeme came around to Gillian, reached for her hand, and leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“But you—” She stopped, aware that she could not publicly reprimand her husband for kissing her. Oh, but he was the devil himself.
* * *
Exhausted, Graeme left his men on the lists and walked back toward the castle. Highgate had originally been built without a training yard. Two years before the first Day of Truce, Graeme’s father had fortified the castle’s defenses against raiders from both sides of the border and designated the east side of the outer bailey for training. Rather than walk toward the gatehouse, Graeme instead made his way to the secret entrance he’d used with Gillian.
That day in the bakehouse. He could remember the look in her eyes when he’d taken her finger into his mouth. He’d wanted so badly to kiss her then, though no more so than he did at this moment. Or every moment, in fact.
Three more days.
Graeme climbed the stairs and made his way to the lady’s chamber, intending to check on Fiona. He’d stayed up all night, watching the old woman sleep, thankful to still have one of the only people who’d known him as a babe. He and Aidan had lost their entire family, slowly but surely, over the course of a decade or so. When his brother had returned, unable to find a healer, Graeme wasn’t surprised he had nearly wept at the sight of an awake and alert Fiona.
When he opened the door now, Morgan put a finger to her lips and indicated for him to leave. Fiona was sleeping.
He backed out of the room, content for the moment, and went to his own room, intending to close his eyes before dinner. How had he stayed awake for so long during battles? He’d felt so slow in training today.
Graeme opened the door and froze.
Gillian stood in the middle of the room bent over, and it took every bit of will he possessed not to stride over and claim her that very moment.
She stood when she heard him.
