“What the bloody hell is wrong with her?” There was a strange edge to his voice she didn’t understand.
The door closed, and Rose said, her voice low, “We believe a curse has been placed on her.”
The silence drew out, thick and heavy. Finally Kincreag swore violently. “I’ll send for my own physician.” He strode away, then turned back to point a finger at Rose. “Do nothing to her while I’m gone.”
“What?” Rose said indignantly, hands on hips. “That charlatan you call a healerwill nottouch my sister.”
He returned to the bed. “She is my wife, andyouwill not touch her while babbling about curses.”
“She’s not your wife yet.”
Gillian craned her neck gingerly to watch Rose and Kincreag glare at each other. He turned decisively and scooped Gillian up into his arms, wrenching a muffled gasp from her as her head bumped against his chest.
He murmured an apology as he continued across the room, stopping at the door. “Move, Sir Philip.”
Gillian turned her head, wincing at the pain that gripped her from the slight movement. Isobel’s husband blocked the door, arms folded over his plaid-covered chest.
“Peace, my lord,” Sir Philip said, his voice soothing. “Rose means her no harm. She’s a fine healer and wouldnever hurt her own sister, you must know that. You’re distraught.”
“Move. Now.” Kincreag’s voice was low and threatening.
Gillian curled her fingers into Nicholas’s doublet and forced herself to speak. “My lord, I pray you. Let Rose tend me. I trust no one more.”
He frowned down at her, muscles working in his jaw. After a moment he returned her to the bed. He pulled up a chair and positioned himself on the other side of the bed, staring at Rose challengingly. “Fine. Heal her. I’ll watch.”
“Very well,” Rose said. “First, I’ll give her something to help her rest.” Rose dug about in her wee wooden box.
Gillian’s stomach felt wambly again, so she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, willing it to calm.
“What’s in that?” Nicholas asked when Rose apparently mixed together some concoction for Gillian to take.
“Willow bark and betony to soothe her pain, chamomile and valerian to help her sleep, and a bit of fenugreek to settle her stomach.”
“Very well,” Nicholas said reluctantly. A long silence followed in which Rose brewed the concoction.
“Help me lift her head,” Rose said.
Nicholas’s large, warm hand cupped the back of Gillian’s skull, and she let him raise her slightly, tilting her head so Rose could press the small wooden cup against her bottom lip. She swallowed the liquid and was gently lowered back to the pillow. When sheopened her eyes, everyone crowded around the bed, watching her expectantly.
With great effort, she forced herself into a sitting position, though it caused her head to ache again. “It’s just a headache. I’m not near death. Someone really should tell Father I’m fine.” She looked pointedly at Isobel and Sir Philip. “Surely Da is waiting to see you.”
When they were gone, only Rose and Nicholas remained. Rose flipped through her stack of sewn manuscripts, and Nicholas stared down at his hands, clasped loosely between his knees. A lock of black hair had escaped from the thong at his nape, and it hung down to feather against his jaw. His presence comforted Gillian.
The tight pain in her temples eased as Rose’s medicine took effect, and a warm drowsiness settled over her.
There was a quick knock on the door; then Roderick entered. Broc slipped past his legs, nearly tripping him, and leapt onto the bed. Nicholas was on his feet, holding the dog back when it would have sat on Gillian again.
“What is the matter with him?” Nicholas demanded. He grasped the dog’s snout and stared into its eyes. “Is this the same dog?”
“Aye! It is, I’m sure of it.” Roderick shook his head, glaring at Broc. “I know not what’s wrong with him. I didna even know he followed me up here. I had closed him up with Alan. He must’ve escaped.” He let out an angry breath. “I’ll take him back and tie him up this time.”
“It’s all right,” Gillian said. “Lay down, Broc.”
The dog obeyed immediately, eyeing her with soft,adoring eyes. Gillian smiled and scratched the wiry hair sticking up between his ears.
Roderick appeared upset. “He shouldn’t be in here troubling you when ye’re ill. He’s yer da’s dog.” He made a grab at the dog, but Broc strained away, crawling on his belly until his head lay on Gillian’s thigh.
“It’s fine, Uncle. I want him to stay.”
