Текст книги "My notorious highlander"

Автор книги: Vonda Sinclair

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She opened it and smiled, hiding the rest of her body behind the door. That alone spiked his excitement.

"Can I come in?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Aye." She widened the door and he entered.

The candle on her bedside table revealed that she wore a thin white smock and naught else. Though it covered her body fully, he knew he could have it off her in an instant, revealing all her creamy skin and delicate curves.

"Don't give me that look, MacLeod," she said in mock warning.

He'd heard her say that before and knew it meant she was tempted. "What look?"

"That one." She pointed at him.

He grinned, remembering 'twas exactly what she'd said to him on the beach of Sango Bay before their first time.

"It means I want you," he murmured.

She dropped her gaze, looking demure of a sudden. "You're not well enough. I would hate for you to injure yourself further."

He shook his head and barred the door. "I'm well enough, if you'll… do some of the work."

Chapter Sixteen

Jessie lifted her gaze to Torrin's, unable to believe how sizzling and seductive he looked at the moment in the dim candlelight of her chamber. His green eyes were dark as midnight and wicked as sin. It had been over two weeks since they'd spent the night together, and she was feeling a bit shy. She was also hesitant to ask what he'd meant by if you'll do some of the work.

"How?" she asked.

"I'll be glad to show you." Wearing that crooked, mischievous grin that always lured her in, he pulled her close and kissed her.

She slid her arms around his neck and melted into the kiss, opening her mouth, wanting him to consume her utterly. His tongue teased and tempted hers. He tasted of whisky and virile, aroused male.

Slowly, he gathered up her smock until the hem was above her waist, then skimmed his hot hands over her hips.

"I want to undress you first," she said, not liking the idea of being naked while he was fully clothed.

"Very well." He unbuckled his belt, while she unpinned the brooch of the MacLeod Clan crest that held the top of his plaid in place over his shoulder, then unbuttoned his doublet and slipped it off. Once his plaid was removed, she carefully pulled his ivory linen shirt over his head.

Her eyes were drawn immediately to the wounds on his abdomen. Nannag had removed the stitches earlier that day and the cuts were healed shut, though still red. But not swollen, thankfully.

"I'm afraid 'twill hurt you," she said.

"Nay. But if it does, 'twill be a pleasurable pain." He lifted the smock over her head and flung it, then led her to the bed.

He stretched out on his back and held his hand up for her. She took it, lay down close beside him and brushed her lips over his.

Saints! How she had missed his sizzling kisses. He made all thoughts flit from her mind. All she could think about was how delicious he was. Turning onto his side, he pulled her tight against his heated body, though she tried to avoid putting pressure on his injury.

With his stone-hard shaft pressed against her lower belly, all she could focus on was her growing need for him. She already knew he would feel heavenly sliding into her.

He stroked a warm hand up and down her back, over her hip and along her thigh.

It suddenly struck her that Torrin was well, and she was so thankful tears sprang to her eyes. "I love you," she whispered.

He pulled back a few inches, looking deep into her eyes with an affectionate smile. He stroked his fingers over her face. "And I love you, Lady Jessie. I have since the first moment I saw you."

She bit her lip and stared down at his chest, for she knew not how to respond to that. She could not believe how lucky she was to have such devotion from a man like him.

With a finger, he lifted her chin, telling her without words to look into his eyes. She did, amazed at the emotion she saw there once again.

"You are the most remarkable man I've ever met," she said.

He shook his head. "I doubt that, but no other man could ever love you as much as I do."

"I believe that," she whispered. "And I want you to know that I love you no matter what, even if—"

He placed a finger upon her lips, halting her words. "Do not say it, Jessie MacKay."

Sliding his finger away, he pressed his lips against hers, forcing any remaining thoughts from her mind. If he kept kissing her like this, she'd go along with almost anything he said. But she knew she couldn't lose her head completely… the way she'd lost her heart.

His hand again trailed over her back, her hip, her thighs, turning her body into a bonfire of sensation. He stroked his thumb over her breast, then leaned down and drew her nipple into his mouth, sparking off thousands of fiery sensations inside her. She buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer.

After treating her other nipple to the same delicious torment, and sending her mind toward the stars, he said, "Climb on top of me."

"What?" Her eyes sprang open. Surely she'd misheard.

He grinned, looking more roguish than ever. "You said you would help with the work, aye?"

She nodded.

"I need for you to get on top. Just put one knee on either side of my hips."

"Oh." She did as he asked, realizing this was the most wanton position she'd ever been in. He smiled up at her, and she immediately knew she was going to love this.

"Lean up this way and put your hands on either side of my shoulders." He helped her get into position and lifted his shaft to stroke it against her. "Now, slowly sit back," he whispered.

She moved backward a tiny bit and the head of his shaft slipped inside her. She gasped.

He gave a slight thrust, then growled. She couldn't tell if it was a passionate growl or a pain-filled one. "More," he said between clenched teeth.

She pressed down upon him as he slid deeper. "Am I hurting you?" she asked.

"Nay. You feel so good," he ground out.

"You do, too." She loved the sensation of him filling her.

"Now, ride me," he said.

"Do you mean like…?" She slowly lifted herself, near rendered senseless by the feel of him gliding from her body.

"Aye," he breathed. His hands at her hips, he pushed her down again. "Faster."

Need possessing her, she followed his directions, finding that the more rapidly she moved, the more intense the pleasure. Breathless anticipation stole over her and when the intense delight of climax seized her, she felt she would collapse.

Growling, Torrin tugged her to him, kissing her while his body trembled against hers.

"Saints," she hissed, moments later when her breath returned. "I didn't even ken that was possible."

He grinned. "I'm glad I taught you something, then."

She bit his earlobe in punishment for his impertinent mouth.

He chuckled and she moved to lie beside him.

"Give me five minutes and we'll do that again," he said.

"In truth?"

"You doubt me?" he asked, incredulous, but grinning.

"Nay. 'Tis only… you are not fully recovered."

"I'm recovered enough."

She stroked her fingers over his chest and arms, appreciating each hard curve and flat plane of muscle. She wanted him to heal completely, of course, but she knew once he grew strong again, he would leave Dunnakeil and head for home. Then, she would be utterly lost without him.

***

A week later, Jessie slipped into Torrin's chamber. Thrilled, he grinned and barred the door.

They had secretly spent every night together in one of their rooms, and Torrin had enjoyed every moment of it. But he could not stay at Dunnakeil forever. His clan would start wondering where he was and whether he was ever going to return to Munrick. He was much more recovered now and able to travel.

After they made love, they lay in bed, snuggled together in the candlelight.

"Jessie, I have to leave in the morn," he said, though the very idea made him feel wretched. "I have to go to Munrick and tell Nolan's widow and the rest of the clan of his death. Then, two of Dirk's men are going to show me where Nolan's grave is."

Jessie nodded, her eyes misting. "I understand."

"Please, will you marry me and come with me?" he asked, trying not to sound as if he were begging, though he would if it would convince her.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "You know I cannot do that. I've already told you why."

Disappointment engulfed him as it always did when she refused. "You might be carrying my bairn, even now." 'Twas his only argument.

She gave a sad smile. "I wish I was."

His heart pounded with hope. "Is that truly what you want?"

"Of course."

"Why do you not ask the healer to examine you and see?"

"I have. Flora said she didn't see any sign of a bairn yet." Tears filled Jessie's eyes.

"Saints, lass." He pulled her to him, just as disappointed as she was. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head.

He kissed her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Stay here with me tonight."

She nodded.

He would get her with child or die trying, but 'twas no hardship. Making love to her was like heaven on earth.

But, once he left, he feared he might go mad without her.

***

The next day, Torrin rode away from Dunnakeil with a heavy heart. He was not looking forward to going home to Munrick without Jessie. He'd told her he would return in a fortnight, or as soon as possible. He had to believe something would change her mind between now and then. Either she would be with child, or she would miss him so badly, she would agree to go with him.

He could just imagine her riding with him now, commenting on how beautiful the purple drifts of bell heather were upon the green and rocky hills. 'Twas a warm, sunny day, reminding him of the unforgettable days they'd spent on the beaches around Durness. Aye, the best days of his life, so far. He hoped better ones were to come… if only she would marry him.

Dirk had sent a dozen of his clansmen with them because 'twas unsafe for only a few people to travel alone with McMurdo and MacBain still roaming about. Some of the MacKays with them were the ones who had buried Nolan, and they were going to show Torrin the gravesite in the small wood south of Munrick.

Iain rode beside Torrin, glancing at him from time to time.

"Stop worrying about me," Torrin said.

Iain smirked. "I'm not worried about you."

His friend was lying, but he expected that.

"I ken you're disappointed," Iain said. "In your situation, I would be, too. But when you return to Dunnakeil in a couple of weeks, you may well find that she is with child and eager to marry you."

"I hope so." But he also knew there were no guarantees.

***

Since Torrin had left the day before, Jessie had tried to keep herself busy by helping Isobel oversee the serving staff, especially in the mornings when Isobel wasn't feeling well. But Jessie was often distracted. She thought about all the places she'd had conversations with Torrin, or more intimate encounters.

Now, she found herself in the third floor bedchamber with the broken window where she and Torrin had one of their first conversations of any length. The pigeon had scared her and Torrin had rushed to her rescue. She should've known then that he was honorable and heroic.

She stared out at the view over Balnakeil Bay and the golden sand beach where they'd talked, wrestled, and practiced archery, the distant cliffs on each side, protecting the bay. Cliffs that looked far more ominous now, for she'd almost lost her life out there.

With the MacBains and McMurdo skulking about, she couldn't walk on the beach anymore. She missed it. But she missed Torrin far more. It felt like he was a thousand miles away now. Tears burned her eyes, and she prayed he would be safe and return soon.

The sky was heavily overcast and the water of the bay dark, so unlike the sunny day she'd spent with Torrin out there. She still couldn't believe she'd been stealthy enough to knock him to the ground. She smiled, tears in her eyes, remembering the priceless look of shock on his face. 'Twas the day he'd first kissed her… and the day she'd fallen in love with him. Though she hadn't realized it until later.

Why did life have to be so difficult? Why couldn't she simply marry him, conceive and give birth like a normal woman? She would give anything to be normal, and the type of wife he needed.

He was the best of men, accepting, understanding and always affectionate with her. He hadn't faltered in his pursuit of her. Weeks ago, when she'd seen him on the opposite side of that ravine, barely able to stand, his clothing drenched in his own blood, while Haldane held the knife to her throat, she'd known then that Torrin's heart was true. And that he would give his life for her if he had to.

But to marry him would be too much of a risk. If she were to do that and then be unable to provide him an heir, she would be devastated. If only she knew what the future held. She could certainly envision a joyful future with him. She could dream of making love to him every night, and several months from now, holding a healthy newborn babe in her arms, while he smiled proudly and kissed her.

But 'twas only a dream.

***

After spending the night in Scourie, Torrin, Iain and the rest of their party drew closer to Munrick that evening. 'Twas only a couple of miles away. They had been traveling for two days through rough, rocky terrain, and Torrin was sick of riding. All the men and horses having to be ferried across a loch had also slowed their progress.

Maybe 'twas because of his recent injury that riding was tiring him more easily. Saints! He had to toughen himself up again. Or maybe 'twas because he missed Jessie so profoundly that he'd gotten little sleep the night before. He'd become used to her sleeping in his arms for the past week, and for her to suddenly not be there anymore was hell.

The sun was sinking low over the mountains, gleaming through the rosy clouds and sparkling off Loch Assynt below. Torrin would love for Jessie to see this view, for it would mean she was coming home with him.

Shouting and war cries snagged his attention. From the opposite direction, Highland warriors with swords and targes stormed down from the crest of the hill on foot.

Torrin's horse reared unexpectedly and almost unseated him.

"Damnation." He held on. Once the horse was on all fours again, he drew his sword and slashed at the marauders nearest him. "MacBain," Torrin growled, recognizing the knave amongst those fighting.

Torrin's abdomen was still healing, and therefore still weak and sore from the wounds, but he would not allow this miscreant to defeat him. Thankfully, with the dozen MacKays, Iain's men and Torrin's men, they were evenly matched.

Once Gregor MacBain had felled one of the MacKays, he charged Torrin. When he slashed Torrin's horse's flank, fury consumed Torrin. With a scream, the horse kicked at MacBain and spun. Torrin brought his sword down across MacBain's shoulder, slicing through his doublet and shirt. The man cried out and leapt back, blood soaking his clothing.

After grabbing his targe from his saddle, Torrin jumped to the ground, for an injured horse was unpredictable. The animal bolted away from the fighting.

Torrin was disappointed to see that he hadn't cut MacBain's sword arm, but the opposite one. Still, the cut would slow him down. The bastard's face was red and his teeth clenched. Good. Now he knew what Torrin had suffered. With his shoulder injured, MacBain had a difficult time holding his targe and dirk in fighting position, which left him vulnerable.

After sliding the leather straps of the targe onto his forearm and yanking his dirk from the scabbard on his belt, Torrin stabbed his sword toward MacBain's stomach, but he deflected the blow with his own blade.

MacBain bared his teeth and sliced at Torrin. He easily blocked it. Shoving his targe and dirk toward MacBain, he trapped the man's sword arm and jabbed his own sword toward MacBain's side. The blade slid deep into the flesh at near the same place MacBain had wounded him three weeks ago. MacBain screeched and stumbled back.

Pain burned across Torrin's leg. Damnation, the bastard had cut his thigh. Torrin redoubled his efforts and stabbed MacBain in the chest with his dirk, then again in the side.

Wide-eyed, the man cried out and dropped to the ground.

One of MacBain's men attacked Torrin from his right. He blocked his sword slash just in time. Seconds later, Torrin stabbed the man in the gut and cut his throat.

A horrid pain sliced across Torrin's back. Growling, he spun to find another of MacBain's men behind him.

"Coward!" Torrin yelled. He blocked his next blow with the targe, then drove the shorter man back with strike after strike. He shoved at the bastard with his targe, then used his dirk to stab him in the sword arm. The man howled in pain and tried to escape, but 'twas too late. Torrin slashed and stabbed with his sword, sending the bleeding man to the ground seconds later.

He turned to find some of the MacBains fleeing into the bush and up the hill. Several of them lay on the ground, dead or dying.

"How many did we lose?" he asked Struan, thirty feet away.

"Saints, Chief! You're badly injured again. We need to stop the bleeding."

Iain ran toward him, his shirt and doublet bloody.

"Are you wounded?" Torrin asked him.

"Only a few minor cuts."

Iain glanced down at Torrin's leg, below his sliced plaid. "You were cut badly. We have to get that bleeding stopped."

"Luag's dead!" Struan yelled, kneeling by him.

"Nay!" Torrin limped toward them, seeing that indeed his guard was unmoving, and drenched in blood, his eyes staring sightlessly. "Damnation." Luag had been by his side most every day since he'd become chief.

"Two of the MacKay guards were killed," Iain said. "And eleven of the MacBains."

Torrin shook his head, saddened by the death of Luag and also two of their allies. How he hated the MacBains. "Bastards," he growled. But at least he had killed their leader.

"Sit on the ground and let me see your wound," Iain said.

Torrin did, pulling up his plaid to bare the deep cut on his thigh. "One of the bastards sliced my back, too."

Iain muttered curses and pulled off his own shirt. He wrapped it around Torrin's leg twice and tied it tight. "That might slow the bleeding a little. Let me see your back."

Torrin pushed himself up, but when he stumbled, Iain helped him stand. He ripped the fabric of his shirt where it was sliced to better see the cut. "'Tis not as bad as the other one," Iain said. "But we need to get you to Munrick quick so the healer can stitch you up. We're only a couple of miles away."

"Aye," Torrin said, suddenly going lightheaded.

Sim found Torrin's horse and led him forward. Pain lancing through his leg and his back, Torrin examined the cut to the horse's flank. It had bled some but was not terribly deep. He believed the horse would recover.

Agony bore through him, making mounting seem an impossible task. Dizziness assailed him and he caught against the horse and saddle. The bandage on his thigh felt saturated with hot blood.

"Struan!" he shouted at his sword-bearer, and though he tried to hold onto the saddle to keep upright, he felt himself sliding to the ground as all around him went black.

***

Torrin dreamed he was searching for Jessie in the night. Someone had stolen her away, MacBain or Haldane, he wasn't sure which. But all was dark, and he couldn't see. He couldn't find her.

"Jessie!" he yelled.

A strong hand on his shoulder pushed him back. "Torrin. She's not here right now."

"Iain?"

"Aye."

"Where is she?" Torrin opened his eyes to see that he lay in his own bedchamber at Munrick, a few candles lighting the dark room.

"Still at Dunnakeil."

Burning pain consumed his leg and his lower back. The skirmish. He remembered killing MacBain.

"You lost too much blood in a short amount of time," Iain said. "You were not fully recovered from your earlier injury when you got these."

"Aye." He well knew that, but was he going to survive? Would he ever see Jessie again? He slid down into the darkness yet again.

Chapter Seventeen

At Dunnakeil, Jessie forced herself to eat supper at the high table. Though her family and friends surrounded her, she was intensely lonely. Torrin had been gone four days, and she missed him terribly.

One of the guards rushed across the great hall to the high table. "The MacKay guards who went south with MacLeod are returning. We saw them in the distance," he told Dirk.

"Why are they coming back so soon?" Dirk shoved up from his chair and strode quickly across the great hall with the guard. Several others followed, including Jessie and Isobel. Was Torrin returning, too? What had happened? The MacKays had planned to travel south with Torrin to show him where Nolan was buried. They wouldn't have had time to do that.

When the soldiers rode through the portcullis, she was shocked to see two dead bodies, completely wrapped in plaid including their heads, lying stiff and straight, tied to the horses' backs. A cold chill shook her, and tears filled her eyes.

"Who is this?" Dirk demanded, motioning to the dead bodies. "What happened?"

"Henry and Ross," Dougal said, his blue eyes pain-filled. "MacBain and his clan attacked us just this side of Munrick. 'Twas a terrible skirmish. One of the MacLeods was killed, too."

Nay! Jessie hurried forward. "Who?"

"The one they called Luag. Chief MacLeod was injured badly."

Icy fear poured through her. "Nay," Jessie whispered. Isobel put an arm around Jessie and held her close.

"MacLeod has two wounds and lost more blood. Iain told us that he was out cold for most of the night while we were there, and he has a fever."

Devastation crashed in upon Jessie, making her feel as if she were suffocating. "Saints," she hissed, her heart breaking. Tears filling her eyes, she felt herself trembling, but was unable to stop. She was so far away from him when he needed her.

"We killed eleven of the MacBains," Dougal continued. "Chief MacLeod killed Gregor MacBain."

Jessie pressed her eyes closed. She was glad that bastard MacBain was dead, but more importantly, she had to see Torrin. Having so many severe injuries only weeks apart might be more than his body could deal with.

After Dirk gave his men orders, he headed toward Jessie.

"I have to go to Torrin," she said.

Dirk nodded. "I'll take you. We'll leave at first light. I'm glad you weren't with him. You could've been killed."

That was true, but she wished she was at Munrick now. It had likely been two days since Dougal and the other MacKays had left Munrick. Had Torrin grown worse during that time? Was he still alive?

***

"Dirk and Keegan will keep you safe," Isobel told Jessie in the solar that night.

"Aye." Too nervous to sit, Jessie paced before the fireplace, wishing they could leave this very instant, though she knew they couldn't travel very well in the dark. Too dangerous.

She had packed a few changes of clothes and had the servants prepare foods that wouldn't spoil during the trip. She prayed they could make the journey quickly for she had to reach Torrin as soon as possible. Flora would go, as well, and take her healing herbs. Jessie didn't know how skilled the healers were at Munrick. Aiden was going to take care of her puppy, Greum, so she didn't have to worry about him.

"I pray Torrin is much improved by the time you arrive at Munrick," Isobel said, sitting on the settle, her dark eyes worried.

Jessie nodded. "It kills me not knowing how he is at this very moment."

"I pray there will be no more attacks," Seona said. She turned from the window, tears in her eyes.

"Indeed." Isobel faced her. "Are you well, Seona?"

"Aye. But…" Seona wrung her hands and averted her gaze.

"What is it?" Isobel joined Seona at the window and took her hands.

Seona swallowed hard and smiled through her tears. "This may not be the best time to tell you this, but… I am with child."

"What?" Isobel exclaimed, then hugged Seona. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I only learned of it this morn. I wasn't feeling well and Keegan sent Nannag in to check on me. She thinks I am with child."

"Saints!" Isobel said. "Keegan does fast work."

Jessie forced a smile and embraced Seona. Though she was truly thrilled for her, she was still too devastated by the news of Torrin's injuries to give a real smile. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you and Keegan." She pulled back. "I'll ask him and Dirk to stay here for their own safety. You both need them now more than ever, since you will soon be parents. The MacKay guards and a couple of Keegan's brothers can take me safely to Munrick."

"Nay! Dirk wouldn't hear of it," Isobel said.

"I'm certain they will be safe and fight off any attackers," Seona said, though she still looked worried. "They did on our long journey across Scotland."

Isobel nodded. "Dirk and Keegan are two of the best at fighting."

"I just pray that we make it in time," Jessie whispered.

***

Two days later, Jessie and over twenty of the MacKays traveled south through the rugged granite mountains and along the green moors, interspersed with lochs and bogs. She had gotten little sleep the previous two nights, being terribly worried about Torrin. Last night, they'd stayed in Scourie with Lewis MacLeod, a friend of Dirk's.

Today, she rode between Dirk and Keegan. Half of the MacKays rode in front of them and half behind. Uncle Conall, Dougal, and Little Conall accompanied them. Jessie had also brought along her young maid, Dolina, and Flora.

Heather bloomed on the hills but Jessie barely noticed. Though she normally loved looking at the purple heather, all she could think about was taking a walk through it with Torrin. Tears filled her eyes. Annoyed, she wiped them away and hoped the men didn't notice. Dirk and Keegan would understand, of course, but she didn't want to appear weak.

She knew the two would much rather be back with their wives at Dunnakeil.

"I thank you both for bringing me," she said.

"No thanks needed," Dirk said.

"Indeed," Keegan agreed.

Though she had hoped they would talk more, to take her thoughts off her dark fears, they didn't. Did they suspect that Torrin wouldn't be alive when they arrived?

She bowed her head and tears dripped from her eyes. Please God, keep him alive.

As late afternoon approached, Jessie could not believe how tired and sore she was. It had been a long time since she had ridden a horse for more than a few minutes. She feared she would be unable to walk once she dismounted.

A glistening loch reflecting the blue sky came into view in the distance as they rode carefully down a rocky incline.

"'Tis Loch Assynt," Dirk said.

"We are close?" she asked.

"Aye."

Her heart rate sped up and her stomach knotted. Pressing her eyes closed, she said another prayer.

Minutes later, they arrived at a smoother trail by the loch's edge and kicked their horses into a gallop, her heart pounding at the same quick pace.

A castle came into view in the distance. That had to be Munrick. As they approached, she saw that the gray stone castle had three towers and sat on a small island in the loch. 'Twas a beautiful, magical setting with the green hills in the background.

She imagined Torrin inside the walls. Would he be better or worse?

As they drew nearer the guard house and drawbridge, the men riding in front of them moved aside, allowing Dirk and Jessie to approach first.

Sim was one of the first people she recognized.

"Chief MacKay, Lady Jessie! Am I glad to see you," he greeted, his eyes wide with excitement. "Lower the bridge," he told the other guards.

"Are you certain?" one of them demanded, frowning and eying Dirk suspiciously.

"Aye, these are our allies, and they're here to help the chief."

"How is Laird MacLeod?" Jessie asked.

"He's alive but ailing something fierce. Thank the saints you've come. You can help him recover as you did last time."

"I hope so." She blinked back the tears burning her eyes once again.

The gate opened and the drawbridge was lowered. She, Dirk and the rest of the MacKays proceeded across into the walled cobblestone bailey.

Jessie quickly dismounted, her legs and derriere so sore she could hardly move. But she forced herself to walk stiffly toward the entrance. Where was Flora? She stopped and turned, seeing that one of the men was helping her dismount. The healer, completely unaccustomed to riding a horse, waddled forward. "I'm coming, m'lady," she said, carrying her satchel.

"Lady Jessie! Thank the saints."

She turned to find Iain standing in the portal.

"Come inside." He offered his hand to help her up the steps, then helped Flora. "Torrin needs you and your healer now more than ever."

"Is he bad?" Jessie asked.

Iain frowned. "Aye. I'm afraid so."

Please, God, don't let him be too far gone. She followed Iain along one end of the great hall and up a narrow turnpike stairwell, Flora and Dolina trailing behind. At the end of a short corridor, Iain opened a door and motioned her inside. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll send a maid to assist you."

Jessie rushed into the bedchamber. Torrin lay in a large four-poster bed with his eyes closed, his skin was so pale. "Saints!" She touched his feverish brow. "Torrin?"

His eyelids fluttered and then he moved his head. "Jessie?" 'Twas naught more than a breath.

"Aye, I am here."

Frowning, and with seemingly great effort, he opened his eyes a crack. "Missed you."

Tears filled her eyes. "I missed you, too. You must get better."

"Aye."

"I've brought Flora, the healer, with me."

At the moment, she was conversing with another woman in the corner of the room, near the door. Another healer, perhaps.

Torrin's hand moved from beneath the layers of blankets and clasped onto hers.

"Have you eaten anything?" she asked, holding his hand tight.

"Not hungry."

"How long has it been?"

He shook his head a little and frowned. Saints! Could he not even remember when he'd last eaten? "Would one of you go see if there is any fresh broth in the kitchen?" she asked the two women. "And if there is, bring some. Some ale, too."

"Aye, m'lady. My name's Margie. We tried to get him to eat, but he'd have none of it." She hurried out the door.

Well, at least they'd tried. He would have to eat for her; she'd make him.

"Is she the healer for Munrick?" Jessie whispered.

"Aye. Their main healer passed a few months ago. Margie admits she isn't well trained."