X Marks the Scot (7 page)

He dropped her sack on the bed, grabbed a blanket, and spread it on the floor. Not speaking a word, he started to remove his courtly attire.

She looked away. Perhaps it was her uneasiness, but the room was getting extremely warm.

“I hope ye donna mind, but I donna wear clothes to bed.” His voice was a soothing murmur that sent a tingling shimmer down her spine.

Not able to stand the awkwardness, she slapped her hands over her face and groaned. “MacGregor! Will ye
please
?”

“Pray untwist your knotted self, healer. I don my plaid.”

Hesitantly, she lowered her hands and cast him a quick look. His chest was bare and a plaid grazed his hips—very low on his hips, but he was more or less covered.

The man was massive, filled with self-confidence, and he had a ruggedness and vital power that she couldn’t deny. She needed to keep telling herself that even though he was certainly fair of face, he was sinful enough to make any woman—well, every woman—fall under his spell.

He nodded to her sack. “Undress, healer. Surely ye willnae wear your gown to bed. I will turn. Let me know if ye need assistance,” he spoke with an obvious hidden meaning. MacGregor lowered himself to the floor and turned his back—his very broad back.

Liadain froze, staring at the delicious sight before her. If there was ever a perfect specimen for a man, it would be MacGregor.

“I donna hear ye changing your clothes. Mayhap ye do need my help, eh?” He smirked.

He was so arrogant. Looking around for the first thing she could find, she tossed her pillow at him.

He grunted. “Why is it ye keep throwing things at me?”

“If ye would cease acting as a rogue, mayhap I wouldnae need to throw things at ye.”

“I am nae acting.”

She gritted her teeth. “MacGregor!”

A warm chuckle answered her. With some careful wriggling, Liadain was able to remove her gown on her own. Hastily, she donned her nightrail and climbed into bed. Pulling the blankets up to her chin, she cleared her throat.

“Do ye want me to blow out the candle?”

“Nay. Leave it lest ye trip over me,” he said, turning over and tossing her the pillow. “Do ye know why someone would do that to your chamber, lass? Mayhap they were searching for something.”

She shook her head. “What could they be looking for? I donna have anything of importance—only my herbs.”

“Donna fret upon it. Just sleep now, healer. Ye are safe.”

Liadain smiled at his attempt to reassure her. Turning on her side, she closed her eyes and there was a heavy silence. How could she possibly sleep knowing the man was on the floor barely clothed? As she rolled onto her back, her eyes flew open and she intently studied the ceiling for some time, watching the light flicker as shadows danced against the wall.

She tried to force her emotions into order, but they were not listening at all. This was ridiculous. Hearing his gentle rhythmic breathing, she knew he slept. She swore men could sleep anywhere at any given time. Did nothing bother them? Did they never lose sleep?

Probably
not.

Lifting herself up on her elbows, she stole a lingering glance at him. His arm rested atop his head, blocking her view of his face. His plaid had separated and she could see part of his bare thigh. Blood coursed through her veins like a raging river, and her heart thumped erratically. Even knowing he was a complete and utter scoundrel did not cause her impure thoughts to cease. She began to wonder just what she wanted of him. Flopping back down, she let out a loud, frustrated sigh.

“I could always join ye and it wouldnae be such torture, lass.”

He
was
awake!

“Ye are fine right where ye are,” she said, speaking the first words that came to mind.

“Aye, but are
ye
?”

Sitting up, she punched the lumps out of her pillow and sank back down on the bed, turning away from him—out of sight, out of mind. This was going to be the longest night of her life.

Declan awoke with a start. Someone called to him from the other side of the door, their impatient pounding driving him mad. It was too early for such madness. All he knew was that it had better not be that witless Percy in a drunken stupor.

“MacGregor,” whispered the healer from the bed.

Slowly pulling himself to his feet, he rubbed his aching back. “I am coming. Will ye cease?” he shouted at the door.

“MacGregor!” called the healer, her voice full of alarm.

Casting a quick glance, her saw that her raven tresses were tousled, hanging over her shoulders as she clutched the blankets to her chest. For a brief moment, he could almost imagine his fingers running through the loose tendrils. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
Damn
. He had never seen her more beautiful.

The healer’s voice broke through his musings and she eyed him with concern. “MacGregor?”

Declan’s eyes roamed over her and he winked at her boldly. “Ye worry overmuch, healer.” Approaching the door, he opened it slowly, positioning his body to block the view to the bed. Cranborne’s hand was midair.

Declan raised a brow. “Cranborne.”

The man nodded in greeting. “MacGregor, my apologies for disturbing you, but I cannot find Lady—”

“Then why are ye here?” Declan asked impatiently. The man was clearly preoccupied with something. His clothes were in total disarray and his hair was standing on end.

As if Cranborne sensed Declan’s scrutiny, he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I went to her chamber and no one answered. I thought you may have seen her or know where she is. My wife is unwell. Something is wrong and she has not felt the babe for some time. I
need
to find Lady Campbell.”

Declan heard a loud gasp behind him as Cranborne held an unreadable expression upon his face. With lightning speed, the man swung open the door, pushing his way into the room. Declan grabbed him with a firm grip, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

“Viscount Cranborne?” The healer colored fiercely. If she tugged up the blankets any further, they would be completely over her head.

Cranborne froze and Declan released his arm. The man whipped his head around and glared at Declan, a probing question coming into his eyes.

“’Tisnae as ye think. Her chamber was—”

“I don’t have time for this now.” Cranborne turned back to Liadain. “Elizabeth is unwell and has not felt the babe since last eve. She is asking for you. Could you please come at once?”

“Of course. I will meet ye in her chamber. Give me but a moment.”

There was a heavy silence.

Cranborne pursed his lips as though he was about to speak, but simply gave a brief nod and walked out. The door was not even closed when the healer flipped back the blankets and sprang from the bed with purpose.

“Turn around, MacGregor. I need to dress with much haste.”

He turned away from her. “After ye care for his wife, I will speak with him regarding your chamber and that this,” he gestured with his hand, “wasnae as he thinks.” He heard rustling from behind him.

“I donna have time to worry upon your pride or mine. I must see to the babe,” she said hurriedly.

“I will come for ye there. I donna want ye wandering off without an escort, especially after last eve. I will also make certain that your chamber is cleaned of the beautiful flowers that someone so kindly left for ye.” A feminine laugh answered him and he turned when she brushed up against his arm. The healer graced him with an enchanting smile, and he rewarded her with a larger smile of his own.

“I truly thank ye for last eve. Ye were a gentleman.” Standing on tiptoe, she brushed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I shall see ye later.”

Declan felt his heart lurch. For a brief moment, he was somewhat shaken. What the hell was
that
? He nodded and mumbled the first words that came to mind. “Aye. Make her well.”

She moved impatiently toward the door. “I will try my best.”

***

Liadain raced to Lady Cranborne’s chamber and prayed that all would be well. Even if Liadain did not currently view Robert in a favorable light, Elizabeth was certainly not to blame. The health of Elizabeth’s babe was far more important than Liadain’s own feelings or lack thereof for Robert.

When she reached the hall to Elizabeth’s quarters, Liadain hurriedly passed a man and smiled in greeting. Was it her imagination or had he deliberately stepped away from her? Spinning her head around, she spotted him folding his hands as if he said a prayer. What was that about? She did not think they had ever been introduced.

Shaking off the odd encounter, she was greeted at the door by Robert, who hastily ushered her in. He was clearly shaken and concerned about his wife. Lady Cranborne was abed, her color pale as the fresh morning snow. Liadain approached the bed and offered her a comforting smile while Robert stood close to Elizabeth’s side.

Reaching out, Lady Cranborne clutched Liadain’s hand. “Thank you for coming. I am so worried about the babe. I have not felt him since last eve.”

“I donna mind that ye called for me, but why didnae ye seek the midwife, Elizabeth?”

“I have been ill for months and you are the only one who helped me. I much prefer you are here,” she said with resolve.

Elizabeth’s head was clammy with a cold sweat. Liadain grabbed a cloth next to the bed and dampened it in a large bowl. Gently, she wiped Elizabeth’s face. “It will be all right. Are ye in pain?”

“I have a slight ache in my stomach,” she said, instinctively placing her hand over her rounded belly.

Liadain nodded and cleaned her hands in a bowl of water. “What kind of ache? Is it a sharp pain or a dull pain?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “It comes and it goes, but when it comes, it is a sharp pain and then turns dull.”

“I just want to take a look. Viscount Cranborne, will ye please stand back?” Liadain waved him out of the way. As she lifted the blanket, she saw that Elizabeth’s nightrail was soaked and there was a trace of blood.

“Dear
God
,” exclaimed Robert. Elizabeth tried to sit up to catch a glimpse of what had caused her husband’s sudden frenzy.

Liadain hastily flipped back the blankets and cast Robert a look of disapproval. Turning toward Elizabeth, Liadain gently coaxed her back down upon the bed. “Ye must be still. Viscount Cranborne, I need a word with ye,” she ordered as Elizabeth called out in pain.

“Elizabeth!” screamed Robert, pushing Liadain aside and grabbing his wife’s hand.

Liadain slapped him in the arm. “Ye arenae helping your wife,” she said through clenched teeth. “Take your leave and seek the midwife. Please do as I ask.”

Reluctantly, Robert left his wife’s side. When he opened the door, sounds gushed in from the hall as he dispersed the small crowd that had started to gather.

The door closed and Liadain cast a glance at Elizabeth. The poor woman’s face was pale and pinched. “It will be all right.”

“Please tell me what is wrong. I need the truth.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened with concern.

“There is some blood, but there isnae yet a need to fear. I must take a closer look at ye.”

Closing her eyes, Elizabeth nodded in consent. Liadain again pulled back the blankets and lifted Elizabeth’s nightrail. She examined Elizabeth and felt for the babe’s head. It was not as low as a head usually was for the birth of a child. Due to the bairn’s position, Liadain deduced the woman had ample time before the wee one was ready to make his grand entrance into the world.

Without warning, Elizabeth jerked and her hands flew to her stomach. “I feel the babe!”

Liadain nodded. “Aye. Sometimes when it gets close to time for the bairn to come, he tricks ye into thinking he is ready, but he isnae. Be sure to drink plenty of water. I am nae sure why it helps, but it does. We will get ye cleaned up and change your linens, but I think ye need to remain abed for a few days and rest. If ye do that, I think ye and your wee one will be fine. When was the last time ye drank?”

Elizabeth looked puzzled. “I’m really not sure. Last eve?”

Liadain approached the bowl of water and cleaned her hands. She lifted the pitcher and poured some water for Elizabeth, aiding her to drink. When Elizabeth finished, she placed her head back down on the pillow while Liadain filled the cup again. “I want ye to try to drink all of this as well.”

The door swung open and the color drained from Robert’s face. “The midwife was escorted to see Lady Somerset. Tell me what I can do.”

“Your wife and bairn are fine. The babe isnae yet ready to come. I suggest the viscountess remain abed for a few days of rest.” Liadain wiped the sweat from Elizabeth’s brow.

“We will do whatever you recommend. I am so thankful you are well, dearest.”

“Your child is very stubborn, Robert,” said Elizabeth, dryly.

He chuckled in response.

“Please wait in the hall until we change the linens. Then ye will be able to spend some time with your wife,” said Liadain, gesturing Robert out the door. When he did not respond or move, she quickly added, “Ye donna have anything to worry about. They are fine.” She gave him a reassuring smile and turned around as the door closed.

Elizabeth grabbed Liadain’s hands as tears streamed down her face. “Thank you. Truly. I don’t know what I would do if I lost this babe. Robert would never forgive me.”

Something moved out of the corner of her eye. Liadain swung her head around and saw Robert standing silently in the corner of the room, his eyes darkened with emotion. Liadain turned toward Elizabeth and smiled warmly. “Viscount Cranborne loves ye.”

***

After an unsettling morning and paying off a few maids to clean the healer’s chamber, Declan eventually proceeded to see how Lady Cranborne fared. Although Cranborne was clearly an arse, Lady Cranborne should not be blamed for her husband’s mistakes. Declan would not wish ill feelings upon her or the bairn she carried.

When he reached the hall, he found Cranborne pacing. “How are Lady Cranborne and the babe?” Declan asked.

An expression of relief passed over the viscount’s face as he stopped in front of Declan. “Thanks to Lady Campbell, they are well but my wife will need to spend some time abed. Lady Campbell is in there with her now.”

Declan nodded and there was an uncomfortable silence, neither of them wanting to converse on the inevitable. This may not have been the most appropriate time, but Declan could not have Cranborne thinking the worst. That was why he thought to be the bigger man.

Folding his arms over his chest, he stood to his full height. “I need to speak with ye about this morn.”

Cranborne mirrored his stance. “I thought you might.”

“Last eve, someone entered Lady Campbell’s chamber and ransacked her belongings. I donna know if they found what they were looking for, but they were kind enough to leave cut-up carrion flowers all over the floor and her bed.”

Cranborne’s eyes widened. “What could Liadain…er, Lady Campbell possibly possess that someone would want, and who in God’s name would spread carrion flowers throughout her chamber?”

“’Tisnae anything I havenae already asked myself.” Declan paused and cast him a pointed look. “She couldnae stay in her chamber, and
that
was the reason she shared mine. I slept upon the floor.”

“You mean to tell me there was no other female acquaintance she could have sought out?” His expression was clearly one of disapproval.

“And who exactly was she to seek out, Cranborne? Your
wife
?” Declan raised a brow.

“It was improper and you know it.”

Did everyone in his life feel compelled to lecture him? “I wasnae going to leave her unattended or with someone I donna know.”

Cranborne shook his head. “I understand your reasoning, but I’m sure I was not the only one to know she shared your quarters last eve. Have you no regard for her reputation?”

Declan stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “I slept upon the floor. It wasnae as if I ruined her or the like. I believe that task already fell to ye,” he spat, giving Cranborne a knowing look. At least the man had enough sense not to push the issue further.

The door swung open and both men gaped at the healer. “I thought I heard voices out here. Ye may see to your wife now, Viscount Cranborne.”

“You have my thanks.”

Stepping out into the hall, she shut the door behind her. “MacGregor.”

“Cranborne’s wife and bairn are well, thanks to ye. Ye did well, healer.”

She waved him off. “It was hardly me, but they are well. I must go to my chamber and change,” she said, pointing to her soiled gown.

“I will accompany ye. Ye didnae have time to break your fast. Would ye like me to get ye something to eat?” he asked as he escorted her through the halls.

She smiled her thanks. “Nay. I will eat later. Are ye nae supposed to be shooting arrows in the tournament this day?”

A few men passed them while deep in conversation, and their eyes widened when they spotted the healer. One of the men spoke a prayer under his breath but loud enough for Declan to hear. This was the second time for such a coincidence, and Declan did not believe in chance occurrences.

Casting a quick glance at the lass, he saw she was oblivious to her surroundings and simply waited for him to respond. “Aye. After the midday meal. Would ye like to come and watch?”

She playfully elbowed him in the arm as the other men moved on. “I might even be persuaded to cheer for ye.”

“Now what would I have to do to persuade ye to do that, lass?” he asked.

Color stained her cheeks. “Would ye cease speaking as if I am your latest conquest? Ye know it will ne’er happen, and frankly, it annoys me.”

Declan stopped abruptly. “Donna say
ne’er
, healer,” he whispered.

She tapped him playfully in the arm and rolled her eyes. When they reached her chamber, she hesitated, her mouth dipping into a frown. “Do ye think ’tis safe? I donna know if my senses could bear it.”

“I saw to it. ’Tis clean now.”

“Thank ye.”

As the healer pushed open the door, he laughed as they both gulped for air at the same time. Everything in the room was in its rightful place. In fact, there was no evidence that anything had ever been amiss.