Leo watched the sheets of rain obscure the landscape in front of him, his thoughts drifting further than he meant to let them. Beatrice’s eyes flashed green and gold in his mind. Her slightly parted lips as he leaned toward her were impossible to forget.
“Are ye all right over there, me Laird?” one of the guards asked, his back pressed against the rock overhang where they managed to take shelter from the rain. “Ye look like ye're dreamin' on yer feet, if ye daenae mind me saying so.”
“I do mind,” Leo growled.
The man was silent for the rest of the ride to the castle.
It was well into the night when they finally made it back. Leo stabled his horse and strode into the castle without so much as a goodbye to the guards. His entire body felt too tense, prickling all over like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.
What in the world is happenin’ to me?
He couldn’t shake the unease that had sunk its teeth into him. This was not the first time he had returned from patrol dirty, wet, and tired to the bone, but this was the first time he was saddled with a crawling, tingling discomfort he couldn’t place.
I must be worried about Effie being alone.
Just past the main doors, Shona stood like a stone angel in a church courtyard. She opened her mouth to speak, then cleared her throat as if the words had gotten trapped on their way out. Leo grabbed her arm, driven by the anxiety roiling inside him.
“Ye have news for me, lass?” When she nodded, he shook her roughly. “Then spit it out.”
“Effie’s nae well, me Laird,” she informed him.
“Nae well?”
“She’s feverish. She has been since ye left.”
Leo released her and started in his long, assured gait towards Effie’s chambers, but Shona called out from behind him, and he froze in his tracks.
“What did ye say?” he asked, turning his head slowly and glaring at her over his shoulder.
“I said she’s nae in her chambers, me Laird.”
“Then where the devil is she?”
Shona pointed in the direction of Beatrice’s chambers, and Leo took off running.
Whoever Effie was, all he wanted at that moment was to know that his child was safe, not boiling over as a raging fever tore through her.
He threw open the door, with no concern for the noise or disruption he might be bringing into the chambers. He found Effie in bed, pale and small and sleeping, curled in a half-moon shape and tucked tightly into Beatrice’s side. Beatrice was foldedaround her as if protecting her from an attacker, taking the brunt of it if it meant Effie would be safe.
I suppose it is a good thing she is here.
He reached down with a calloused, dust-covered hand to gently stroke Effie’s cheek. He tugged on a loose curl over her forehead, damp with cooling sweat. For a split second, he reached for Beatrice to touch her the same way, but his hand froze before he made contact.
Nay, I didnae mean to. I’m tired and didnae realize what I was doin'.
He stepped back from the bed, not wanting to startle them out of their mutual serenity. The urge he had felt to touch Beatrice gently reignited the odd feeling he had shaken off earlier. It was as if his skin was too tight. His body pulsed as if too much blood was coursing through him.
Closing the door behind him, he left the pair to their rest, ignoring how hard his heart had started to pound in his chest.
Blinking awake that morning, Beatrice had trouble remembering what was a dream and what had really happened. It was only when she saw the pale but no longer feverish shape of Effie beside her that she was able to fit all the pieces together.
“How are ye, Effie?” she whispered in the girl’s ear, brushing her red curls from her face. “Are ye still feelin’ ill?”
“Nay, but I’m tired,” Effie croaked.
“That’s to be expected.”
The soft creak of the door announced Shona’s arrival, who smiled in tender relief at the sight of Effie on the mend.
