“Ye want some of this?”
“I already ate, thank ye, milord. I fed the boys and meself earlier, while ye was out.”
“Thank ye, Fergus, I dunno what I’d do wi’ out ye.” He filled the bread roll with cheese and pickles and squashed it flat before taking a bite.
“Do we have anything suitable to give the lass?” he asked when he’d swallowed a mouthful. “Her throat will be raw, I’m thinkin’.”
“We’ve some honey and lemons,” offered Fergus.
“Excellent suggestion, I’ll make up a mixture when I’ve finished this.”
“I can siphon off some broth from the stew later, if she’s not up to swallowing solids?” added Fergus, sniffing.
“Good idea.” Col drank half his tankard of ale and resumed his bread roll, his thoughts roaming back to his last conversation with Rory. “Fergus, did ye know Rory has this notion that reiving ain’t thievery? My father’s filled his heid with all sorts of nonsense!”
“Oh aye, the old laird was full of those tales, and the boys lapped em up.”
“Not in my hearing,” grumbled Col.
“Aye well, he knew that, which is why ye didnae hear ’em,” said Fergus, reaching for another turnip.
“It was one of the few things I agreed with Merlow about.” Col got up to wash his plate and tidy away the remnants ofhis meal. Then he went into the pantry to find the honey and lemons.
“Ye’re a mite taken with this lassie, ain’t ye?” said Fergus with a look from under his bushy eyebrows.
Col dropped the lemon he was squeezing into a jug, flushing. “It’s nae that. I fear she means mischief for Merlow, and I’ll not have that. And now she’s sick, which will keep her tied by the heels for a mite longer so I can figure out what to do wi’ her. I wrote to Merlow about her.”
“Well, that’s probably the most sensible thing ye’ve done yet!” said Fergus, beginning on the pumpkin. “Got his head screwed on straight, does master Merlow. Allus said that. Shame the old man gave him such short shrift.”
Col raised his eyebrows at this. Fergus was being unusually garrulous.
“I didnae know ye had a soft spot for Merlow.”
“Allus have. All the staff did, back in the day. The way the old Laird treated him was right cruel, and ye weren’t much better.” He threw Col a look under his eyebrows again.
Col flushed. “Ye’re right, I regret that.”
“And ye wonder why he wouldnae come home?”
“I understand it better now.”
“Ye was miffed with him when he went south and didnae come back until he brought the lassie.”
Col shrugged. “I was hurt that he stayed for so short a time. I’d missed him more than I realised.”
“Aye, I ken that, but I’m nae sure he did. Did ye tell him?”
Col’s mouth gaped. “Ah, nae.”
“Hmmph,” said Fergus, dropping cubes of pumpkin into the pot.
Col fetched the kettle and added hot water to the honey and lemon mixture and stirred it thoughtfully.
Taking the jug and a glass, he went upstairs to check on his patient.
Her breathing was still laboured, rattling badly in her chest. And her face was flushed, her eyes closed, lids flickering.
Setting the jug and glass down on the table beside the bed, he bent over Aihan and touched her forehead lightly. Her skin was hot and dry to touch. As he watched, he saw her body shudder. She was running a fever! This was not good. Childbed fever had taken his Cat, along with the infant girl who only breathed a few moments after her birth.
