Page 39 of Highlander's Captive Bride
“Good night to ye, Daisy, Poppy,” Nadia said, and after the two women bid her the same, she quietly left.
“Well, I’m off to me bed, too,” Daisy said once she had gone.
“Night night, Daisy. Sleep well,” Elodie said, blowing on her hot milk.
“Aye, sleep well, Daisy,” Poppy echoed. “Ye deserve a good night’s rest.”
With that, Daisy left them and made her way to her room, where she undressed, washed, and slid gratefully into bed. She snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes, eager to rest. But a few minutes later, her body tensed when she heard Bellamy’s unmistakable footsteps coming down the hallway.
Did she imagine it, or did they slow a little as they passed her door? She could not be sure. She was only glad to relax when she heard Elodie’s chamber door open and close. And despite the many worries and plans revolving in her mind, she was tired enough to fall into a heavy slumber quite quickly.
It was all the more alarming, therefore, when she was abruptly awakened by the door of her room flying open and the room filling with lamplight. Blinking, she turned over, only to have a panicked, tearful Poppy shake her violently by the shoulder.
“Wake up, Daisy!” the distraught servant cried. “Ye must come right away. It’s the lass. She’s having another attack, and this time, it’s worse than ever. I’ve never seen her so bad. Please, hurry!”
She might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water on Daisy’s head.
Daisy was out of the bed and into her robe in seconds, following Poppy down the hallway to Elodie’s chambers at a run.
Even before they entered the chamber, Daisy could hear the child’s pitiful cries and groans of pain. They tore at her heart as she hurried inside. She was surprised to see the Laird already there. He was on the bed, holding Elodie in his arms. He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes beseeching, his white face striking fear into her heart as she ran over to the bed.
She gasped to see Elodie in agony. She was clenching her teeth, her lips pulled back in a horrifying corpse-like rictus grin, thrashing uncontrollably in her father’s arms. By turns, she curled into a ball and arched her back as if some malignant puppeteer was jerking invisible strings, violently manipulating her limbs and making her small body contort in ways that seemed cruel and unnatural.
Shocked, Daisy rushed to the nightstand and poured a large measure of the medicine she had stored there. Then, she returned to the Laird’s side with the cup in hand.
“Help her, please,” Bellamy begged as he cradled his daughter, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Hold her as tight as ye can without hurting her,” Daisy told him urgently, realizing the little girl was in the throes of a full-blown seizure. A seizure so violent that Daisy feared it could kill her if it was not brought under control quickly.
“I have to try to get this down her throat, so help me by keeping her head up.”
The Laird silently complied as well as he could, though it was nigh on impossible, with the child gripped by the awful attack that was relentlessly wracking her fragile frame.
But somehow, drip by laborious drip, with the Laird keeping a firm grip on his daughter, Daisy managed to get most of the concoction down her throat, though she gagged and retched all the while. Daisy just had to hope it was enough.
“Keep ahold of her and try to keep her head and shoulders upright if ye can, so the medicine goes down and she disnae swallow her tongue,” Daisy instructed Bellamy breathlessly, finally sitting at his side to observe Elodie’s curious movements. “Now, we must wait.”
While all this was happening, Poppy stood at the end of the bed, tears streaming down her face, muttering prayers under her breath.
The next few minutes felt like some of the longest of Daisy’s life as the child continued to writhe in agony. As she observed her, what she found most striking were the strange, jerky movements of her body, the way her back would arch so violently, almost as if her spine would crack, then she would curl into a ball, her limbs thrashing frenziedly.
At the same time, her fingers and toes stuck out stiffly, and her head thrashed convulsively from side to side on the pillow, her teeth bared like a snarling animal.
“’Tis nae working,” Bellamy groaned, desperation in his voice.
“Wait,” was all Daisy could tell him, placing a hand on his shoulder, wanting to lend him some comfort, some hope that his daughter would recover.
After what seemed like an eternity, Elodie’s movements began to slow, and her cries became fewer.
“It’s starting to have an effect,” Daisy said, taking her arm from Bellamy’s shoulder and feeling the child’s forehead with her palm. It was still very hot and clammy, but the horrible snarl was starting to fade, and Elodie’s face began to look more normal.
At last, the jerking stopped altogether.
Finally, the little girl went limp from head to toe, lying completely unconscious in Bellamy’s arms. He clutched her to his chest, sobbing over her. Daisy felt pity for him and the child both.
But she now felt more in control of the situation, for while watching the child’s convulsions, something had clicked in her mind. Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle that had eluded her for so long had come together so clearly that she could hardly believe she had not seen it before.
She now knew what the cause of Elodie’s terrible sickness was.
