Page 22 of Highlander's Captive Bride
Suddenly, without a word, Bellamy appeared to collect himself, running a hand through his hair as if in distraction. Then, with one dark glance back at her, he stormed out of her room, slamming the door behind him.
With her entire body trembling, her lips still tingling from his ferocious kiss, Daisy stood motionless as the full implications of what had occurred sank in. She struggled to gather her whirling thoughts, suddenly assailed by guilt and anger. At herselfandhim.
What have I done?
Giving herself a mental shake, she forced herself to think calmly, to make sense of the situation. To do so, she knew she needed to be honest with herself, and that was painful.
Despite everything she thought she knew and believed about herself, she was forced to accept that the Laird of Murdoch stirred something inside her that she did not fully understand. The things he made her feel were completely unknown to her.
Ultimately, she decided that this dangerous, dishonorable desire for the man who had committed mass murder to kidnap her and bring her to his castle to do his will could not be sustained.
I must get away, somehow, and soon. I must get away from this place. And him!
* * *
That night, Daisy slept fitfully and woke up the next morning feeling tired. For now, added to the burdens of worrying about Elodie and the nature of her sickness and Violet needing her help was the confusion attached to the intense, intimate moment that she and the Laird of Murdoch had unexpectedly shared the evening before. Just the memory of it made her cheeks flush hotly.
As had become her habit, she rose, washed, and dressed, then sat patiently, waiting for Poppy to come and unlock her chamber door so she could attend to Elodie.
She waited. And waited.
“Where is the girl?” she grumbled to herself after a quarter of an hour. “Has she forgotten me?”
Impatient, she bolted from the edge of the bed and crossed to the door.
“Poppy! Where are ye? Come and let me out, will ye?” she called out, rattling the handle.
To her shock, the handle turned, and the door creaked open.
Astonished, concluding the girl had forgotten to lock her in the night before, she peeked into the hallway. It was empty. Hesitating no longer, she went straight to Elodie’s chambers.
“Did ye forget to lock me door?” she asked Poppy when she entered, eager to check on her patient.
The servant looked up from folding some clean laundry on the table, surprise on her face. “Nay, Daisy. Last night, the Laird came and said ye werenae to be locked in anymore. Did he nae tell ye?”
“N-nay. That is, I expect he did mention it, but it must have slipped me mind,” Daisy hedged, trying to conceal the blush she felt heating her cheeks as she crossed to the bed.
“Aye, he said it was vital that ye have the freedom to monitor the wee lassie’s progress as ye wish from now on,” Poppy supplied cheerfully, neatly stacking some clean pillowcases. “Though ’tis a mystery to me why he had ye locked up in the first place.”
“Hmm,” Daisy murmured noncommittally, concealing with a bright smile her shock at this unexpected yet very welcome sign of trust. “Now, how is the patient today?” she asked, leaning over the bed to see Elodie, who looked up from the pillow and greeted her with a wan smile.
“Good morning, Daisy,” the child said weakly. “I’m nae so bad today, but me tummy’s sore.”
“I’m sorry to hear it, hinny,” Daisy told her, noting her dull eyes and pale cheeks with concern.
She laid her palm on Elodie’s pallid brow and found it worryingly hot. She was familiar enough with her now to know that she always played down her suffering because she hated to be a burden and wished to please. Poppy was the more reliable source when it came to the true state of affairs.
“I did drink a little cuppa tea for breakfast, did I nae, Poppy?” Elodie added, looking at her faithful carer.
“Aye, she did that, Daisy, and she kept it down, too. I’ve ordered some gruel with honey to be brought up, so we’ll try to get that inside her shortly,” Poppy said, looking up from where she was stowing the folded laundry in a wooden chest. She shut the lid and came over to the bed, sitting in her usual chair and taking up her knitting.
Daisy sat on the edge of the bed and ran through her usual checks on Elodie’s vital signs. The results remained largely the same as before. Yet, she could not help noticing that the child’s stomach seemed slightly swollen. When she laid her hand gently on it, Elodie winced.
“My, it is sore, is it nae?” Daisy said, concealing how deeply the symptom worried her. “But a little sweet gruel may help to soothe it.”
That was true enough, for the healing power of oats was well known to benefit invalids. She tried to sound optimistic for Elodie’s sake, but there was no doubt in her mind that the child was fading by degrees.
The gruel duly arrived, and she and Poppy took turns spooning it into Elodie’s mouth. The girl ate it all, but she was listless and had some difficulty swallowing. Mercifully, the oats, honey, and milk appeared to have a soporific effect, for not long after she had eaten the last spoonful, she drifted off to sleep.
