Page 17 of Highlander's Captive Bride
“Let me see that,” the Laird demanded, making her jump as she realized he was behind her again, looking over her shoulder, though she had not seen him move.
He snatched the sheet from her hand and read the few lines she had scribbled. He shook his head with a derisive laugh. “Nae very clever for one who claims nae to be simple. Ye must think me a fool to try to get away with that nonsense.”
Suddenly, before she could move, he bent down and gripped her by the chin, turning her face up to meet his eyes. She quivered with fear but tried to appear as defiant as she could. Nevertheless, as she looked into the stormy gray depths of his eyes, that same snakelike thing as before coiled inside her.
They stared at each other for several moments, and Daisy felt the air between them crackling with tension. It took her back to the time in the woods, when he had caught her running away and they had regarded each other in exactly the same way.
Once again, their faces were very close, and just as had happened back then, the thought came to her unbidden that he was going to kiss her. Involuntarily, her gaze fell to his firm, sculpted lips, and heat rose through her as she wondered what it would be like.
She felt a hint of disappointment when, instead, he let go of her face and stood up, sliding a clean sheet of parchment in front of her. The heat inside her died right away, to be replaced by resignation.
“Dinnae try something like that again. Now, write!” he commanded, standing over her this time.
Troubled once more by the actions of her renegade body whenever he was near, Daisy applied herself seriously to the task. Half an hour later, much to her chagrin, he was reading the finished letters with an approving smile.
“That’s more like it. These will do nicely,” he told her, tucking the letters in his coat. “Right. Ye’ll want to retire now. I’ve had some food sent up to yer room. Come on, I’ll take ye back there.”
Not speaking but with the tension between them still palpable, he did just that. She had to trot to keep up with his swift steps on the way to the chamber in which he had previously locked her.
Once again, he opened the door and pushed her inside.
“Good night,” he said, shutting the door and locking it from the outside before leaving her alone.
Daisy looked around the room. True to his word, a tray of food had been brought up for her, but she had no appetite and did not even bother to look at it. Her thoughts racing, her body at the same time excited and weary, she kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed, pulling the coverlet over her.
She huffed in indignation as she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, knowing that she needed all the rest she could get if she was to formulate a plan of escape.
Half wishing she was a witch and could turn the arrogant Laird into a turnip, she turned on her side and snuggled down. Soon, however, all she could see when she closed her eyes was a pair of handsome gray eyes staring back at her.
6
Feeling somewhat refreshed after a night’s sleep, though her worries nagged at her mind as soon as she rose and prepared for whatever the day would bring, Daisy waited impatiently for Poppy to come and unlock the door of her chamber.
“A bonny morning to ye, Daisy,” the servant bid her with a smile as she let her out.
“I wouldnae ken,” Daisy replied, irritated at not being able to see the patient whenever she wished.
They went straight to Elodie’s chambers. It was still very early. A small fire had been lit in the grate to take off the chill of the April early morning. To her dismay, Daisy found the child looking much as she had the previous evening.
“But she slept better than she has in a while, Daisy,” Poppy assured when Daisy had finished examining Elodie.
“Aye, and me tummy disnae hurt so much this morning,” Elodie piped up weakly, a valiant smile on her small face that tore at Daisy’s heart. “I even ate some toast without getting sick.”
“Is that so? Well, that’s grand,” Daisy said, brushing back damp locks from Elodie’s face. She beckoned Poppy aside. “Did ye save the contents of her chamber pot as I asked ye?”
“Aye, Daisy. ’Tis underneath the washstand.”
Poppy wrinkled her nose as Daisy hurried to inspect the chamber pot. Daisy did not like the color nor the smell of the contents, which seemed wrong. It set her mind racing with possible causes again as she set the chamber pot down, to be carted off to the privy and emptied by the maid later on. However, she was also able to cross some possible causes off her list.
After washing her hands, she returned to Elodie’s bedside. Once again, she went through the checks of the child’s vital functions. Nothing leaped out at her, yet it struck her as odd that the girl’s stomach pain had lessened overnight. She recalled what Poppy had told her, that the pain seemed to worsen in bouts after Elodie ate or drank, then it would subside somewhat.
That seemed to be the case, indeed. But how much of the respite was due to the concoction the child had drunk the night before, and how much was due to the natural course of what ailed her?
Elodie had rested and slept better, Daisy reasoned. Both the girl herself and Poppy had said so. So, she concluded that the draught had helped a little and would be worth administering again. Now, she wished to see if Elodie could stomach the toast she had eaten. But by the time Nadia appeared to collect her, followed at a distance by Jamie, the toast had stayed down.
Satisfied it was safe to leave for a while, Daisy readied herself for the tour of the healing room and castle Nadia had promised her. Poppy bustled about the chambers, carrying out her duties, while Nadia went to the bed and chatted with Elodie softly.
Daisy saw her kiss the child and help her to drink some water, and Elodie seemed pleased to see her. It was clear to Daisy that there was a great affection between the two despite the difference in age. She was glad that the child had another friend to occupy her days, even if her father would not make time for her.
