Page 9 of My Scarred Laird
His stomach still churned, and his head was fit to burst.
He wanted to writhe on the bed with how much his head hurt.
He lay still or tried to anyway with the headache feeling as if someone was playing drums inside his skull.
He felt the woman touch his face again and a spoon touched his lips.
He opened his mouth and then gagged at the foul taste that assaulted his mouth, but he swallowed it down and then another.
It helped some with the pain, and within seconds he was asleep.
Through the night, he would wake, moaning in pain, and gagging at how badly it hurt.
The cloths would be put back on his head and the spoon would be put in his mouth and he would be given more of the foul medicine that gave him relief.
He wished he could see the woman’s face, but his head would hurt all the more when he opened his eyes.
She hummed softly and he would slip back under as he felt her comb her fingers through his hair.
It was soothing and Callum slipped under for longer the next time.
When he woke again, it was morning, and the dawn was slowly slipping through the loopholes.
He sat up slowly, but the woman who had helped him through the night was gone.
It was as if he dreamed her, but the cloth that had been put on his head, fell to his lap and his boots had been removed, as well as his knife belt.
They were put next to his bed and Callum held his hand to his head.
It hurt but did not lay him low as a normal headache would have.
His limbs did not feel as tight as they normally would have either.
He got up slowly and stood, getting his body under his control.
He needed to go for a run or work with his sword today. It would help to clear the cobwebs from his head, and he walked slowly to his study.
The chairs in front of the fire were put back where they had been, and he shook his head slowly.
He must have imagined her. Or his housekeeper had taken care of him.
He sat at his desk, noticing a paper sitting there, the script on said paper soft and feminine, but before he could read the paper, a knock sounded, and Roberta bustled in. “Good mornin’ Laird. Did ye sleep well?”
He felt his brows draw down in confusion, “I didna actually. I had a horrid headache. Ye didna tend ta me?”
She raised her eyebrows, “No Laird. I didna. I was in my rooms sleepin. Are ye all right this morn? Should ye be up and walkin about?”
He gave a soft chuckle, “I feel fine this morn. I do nae ken why, but I feel jus’ fine. Ye are certain ye didnae give me that horrible medicine last night?”
She shook her head again, “After I got yer tray from last night's supper, I went ta bed. It twas a little early, but I kenned ye wouldn’t need me.”
Callum shook his head, “Who was in me rooms then?”
His housekeeper shrugged, “I apologize Laird. I do nae ken.”
Callum rubbed his eyes, “All right, I need ta get ta work. Thank ye.”
She nodded and left, and he looked at the books and wished he could recall who was in his rooms.
