However, when the conversation turned to her news, she began telling Eileen about the fire at the village the day before.
“It was chaos when we got there—everyone runnin’ around in a panic. But Edan was determined to save the barn and allthe grain inside, and he threw himself into gettin’ everyone organized to put out the fire. Is that nae so, Edan?”
“’Tis me duty as the Laird to see to such things,” he replied with no animation whatsoever.
Hiding her embarrassment behind a smile, Olivia tried to ask him with her eyes why he was being so distant, but he stolidly ignored her silent appeal.
So she resorted to outright flattery to try to elicit some sort of reaction from him. “Och, he’s too modest. But I ken that if it hadnae been for Edan, the whole thing would have burned to the ground—the barn and a whole year’s grain supply to boot. I was so proud of him. He was quite the hero.”
But even when Greta said, “Well done, lad. That would have been a great loss. Ye did a good job there. The villagers will be grateful to ye,” he only gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Olivia sensed it would not be a good idea to mention that it was arson and that Laird Nurkirk was likely responsible. That would mean explaining the reason for his vengeful acts, and she had noticed how Edan hated it when she spoke of the man.
However, when Greta was telling Eileen about when she was first married and came to live at Aberfeld Castle, she leaned towards Edan, and while maintaining her smile, she whispered, “Why are ye actin’ like this?”
“Like what?”
“Ye ken what I mean. Ye’ve hardly said a word. Me sister will think there’s somethin’ wrong with ye.”
“She’ll get used to it.”
“Is that all ye’ve got to say? Ye’re nae goin’ to explain yerself?”
“There’s nothin’ to explain.”
Eileen asked her a question then, so she quickly dissembled and abandoned any attempt to get sense out of Edan for the time being. Instead, she ignored him for the rest of the meal and threw herself into conversation with Great and Eileen.
But I’ll make him explain himself later on, when we’re alone, even if I have to drag the truth out of him.
That night, after supper, Olivia stayed in Eileen’s chambers, talking with her until a very late hour. To her surprise and relief, Eileen did not ask her about Edan’s cold demeanor, which he had maintained throughout supper. Instead, they talked about their family. When her sister began yawning, she kissed her goodnight and took her leave.
She slipped back through the connecting door to her own chambers. But she did not get into bed. Instead, she took a candlestick and set off to the upper floor.
I dinnae care if he’s fast asleep. ’Tis his turn to be woken up in the middle of the night.
Still annoyed with him, she intended to simply go in without knocking and shake him awake. But when she came up to the door, she heard strange noises coming from inside and paused to listen, her ear pressed to the wood. It was unmistakably Edan’s deep voice, but he was crying out in his sleep in obvious distress, mumbling, “Nay! Nay, let him go. Leave him be, I tell ye,” and other things she could not quite make out.
He’s havin’ a nightmare!
Without hesitation, she opened the door and went in, shutting it quietly behind her. The room was bathed in darkness save for the embers burning in the grate, but she could still make out Edan tossing and turning restlessly in the bed. Worried for him, she hurried over and placed the candlestick on the nightstand.
“I said, let him go. Nay, dinnae hurt him. Leave him be!” he was murmuring, his head thrashing on the pillow, his hands trying to grasp something invisible to her.
She could see that beneath the tangled covers, his face and his naked chest were glistening with sweat, as though he had a fever. She started as he let out a sharp cry of distress.
Thinking it best not to wake him too abruptly, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him.
“Edan, wake up. ’Tis all right, ye can wake up now. ’Tis only me, Olivia. Come, wake up,” she urged him softly.
She jumped in shock when he suddenly cried out and sat bolt upright, panting hard, his eyes wild as he cast about the room as if searching for an enemy.
“’Tis only me, Edan,” she said, replacing her hand on his shoulder. “I heard ye havin’ a nightmare, so I thought it best to wake ye.”
Frowning, he peered at her uncomprehendingly, his breath gradually slowing and becoming more even. His face and shoulders were slick and shiny with sweat, and so was his hair. It stuck to his forehead in clumps. Gently, she brushed it from his face.
“Olivia?” he croaked.
“Aye, ’tis me. I’m sorry if I startled ye, but ye seemed so distressed. I thought I should wake ye. ’Tis all right now,” she told him, her annoyance giving way to tender concern.
