Page 48 of Highland Renegade
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“’Tis Emily…we canna keep her awake!”
She’d hardly finished the sentence when he ran past her into the castle and hurried to the bedchamber where he’d left Emily. He pushed the door open without fanfare and then stopped dead in his tracks.
Juliana and Lorelei each had one of Emily’s arms around their shoulders while she hung like dead weight between them. They were attempting to walk with her, but her feet dragged and her head lolled.
He reached them in three strides. “Let me take her.” Not waiting for affirmation from either of them, he disengaged Lorelei, tugging Emily’s arm around his neck while his hand slid round her waist. Holding her against him, he managed to shuffle forward. Since the chamber wasn’t large, it was more like a macabre dance of three steps forward, turn—while Emily slipped down his side and he propped her up—before taking three steps back. Then repeating. She mumbled to herself and her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t wake up.
“Have ye sent for the healer?”
“Yes, but—”
“I am already here.” Old Gwendolyn entered the room, followed by Fiona. In her hand she held a bag of herbs. “I was going to leave these with the comfrey and foxglove but forgot.” She squinted at Emily and squeezed her cheeks. “Mayhap ’twas nae a mistake after all. It seems the faeries kenned I was needed.”
“Do ye ken what is wrong with her?”
“I doona work magic, laird. I need to examine her first. Place her in the chair.”
“Shouldna I keep her moving?”
The healer gave him a chiding look. “’Tis nae helping, is it? And I canna see what is wrong if yer prancing about.”
Ian clamped his mouth shut and carefully set Emily down, then stepped back. “Hurry,” he said when the healer simply stood there, observing.
Gwendolyn ignored his command and turned to Fiona. “How long has she been like this?”
“I am nae sure.” Fiona shrugged. “Mayhap less than an hour?”
Ian glared at her, then at Emily’s sisters. “Were ye nae in the room?”
“We were,” Fiona shot back. “We were all sitting here, talking and sipping tea. Emily was a bit quiet, but ’tis to be expected when her head hurt.”
“Then she started to get sleepy,” Juliana said. “We tried to get her to stand up, but she just fell back on the bed—”
“And then she was out,” Lorelei finished. “We tried to wake her, but Fiona said not to shake her.”
“Fiona was right.” The healer gently squeezed Emily’s cheeks again. “’Tis dangerous with a blow to the head.” Emily mumbled something incoherent and her eyes slowly opened.
Ian frowned when he saw how bloodshot they were. “What is wrong with her? Why are her eyes like that? Is she bleeding inside?”
Old Gwendolyn squinted, then leaned forward to sniff her breath and looked up. “Did ye put whisky in the tea?”
“No, of course not,” Juliana said. “It was just tea, with a little sugar.”
Ian eyed the tea service sitting on the small table by the window. “Did ye all drink from the same pot?”
“Yes,” Lorelei said. “One of the maids brought it up shortly after you left.”
“But…” Fiona paused. “Emily was already drinking a cup when the pot of tea arrived, remember? Another maid had brought it with the poultice.”
Ian reached for the pewter mug sitting on the bedside chest. “Was this her cup?” When Fiona nodded, he bent his head. He blinked as his eyes smarted. “’Tis whisky all right.”
The healer frowned. “Whisky could make her sleepy.”
He remembered how Emily had drunk that dram when she’d first arrived. “I doona think a bit of whisky would cause her to pass out.” He bent and sniffed again. The strong fumes of alcohol assailed him again along with a sweet smell. Could someone have put something else in the tea?
Emily mumbled and attempted to sit straighter, although she was not very successful. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief that she was at least awake.
