Page 55 of Desiring the Highland Laird
The sound of her name on his tongue stopped her. She halted.
“Ye dinnae have to.”
He looked and sounded so weary. It tugged at her heart. She softened, giving him a smile. “I don’t mind.”
Then she was off and headed to the kitchen, wondering where she would find water for the pitcher. She needn’t have worried. One of the kitchen maids was there and showed her the well outside. She filled the pitcher with cold water and then asked for some clean linens.
“For Callum,” she clarified.
The girl nodded and handed her a small stack of linens. When she returned to his bedchamber, she tried to ignore the wailing moan of pain coming from Hamish’s room. As she paused at the door, Roslyn exited, her eyes misty. Evie’s heart dropped to her shoes.
“Is he…?” She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know.
“Best get Callum, lass. The laird hasna much time.”
A lump formed in her throat as she opened the door to Callum’s bedchamber. “Callum, your father…”
She didn’t have to say anything else as he jumped to his feet and brushed by her, not even looking at her. He hurried down the hall to his father’s bedchamber and pushed open the door, disappearing inside and leaving Evie standing in the doorway with a pitcher of water and a stack of clean linens. Roslyn moved to stand next to her, the two of them peering down the hallway at the closed door.
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Evie asked.
“Aye,” the woman said, her voice weak. “And then Callum will be laird.”
A tremor of surprise went through her. It hadn’t occurred to her until Roslyn said so that if Hamish died, Callum would inherit. He would be the laird of Dundale. She gripped the handle of the pitcher so hard, her hand cramped.
Roslyn eyed the items in her hands.
“I was going to help him clean the blood off his hands,” she said by way of explanation.
“Och, yer a good lass. Save it for him, aye? He’ll need it.” She peered inside the room and saw it devoid of a fire. “Come. Let’s warm his bedchamber so it will be ready for him when he returns. I’ll show ye how.”
Evie followed her inside and kicked the door closed with the heel of her foot. She replaced the pitcher next to the bowl and the linens next to that while Roslyn set about adding logs in the hearth. Evie kneeled to help her. They worked in silence until the fire was built and the peat took off. Then Roslyn sat back on her heels, brushing the dirt from her hands. There was a sorrow in her aged face.
“I dinnae ken how the lads will fare with their da gone,” she said, as though speaking to herself. “They’ve lost so much. Their mam, their sister.” Tears watered her eyes. Then she pulled herself together, taking a deep breath as she rose. “I best see to the kitchens.” She glanced down at her, question in her eyes.
“I’m going to stay here and wait for him.” It was a snap decision.
She nodded understanding and then was gone.
*
Callum shoved insidethe room, closing the door behind him. The heavy odor of blood and death hung in the air and he knew his da’s time was upon him. He didn’t want to see his da die, but he also understood there was nothing to be done for him. Dougal gave him a nod, acknowledging him, as he passed and exited into the hallway. Malcolm stood on the other side of the bed, his face somber.
“Callum. Come here, lad.”
Callum moved to the side of the bed as his da reached a blood-stained hand out to him. He grasped him by the wrist, pulling him down closer.
“Ye must tell me ye believe in the prophecy,” he said.
“Da—”
“Tell me. I need to hear it before I pass.”
“Nay. Yer going to live.”
He emitted a watery laugh that descended into a cough. His other hand was across his middle where his tunic was soaked through with blood. “Promise me.”
Callum lifted his gaze to Malcolm, but his brother’s face remained impassive with a perfect stony expression. He was the same way when their mam died. He never did show his emotions.
