Eloise lay still as he finished his examination, her thoughts drifting uneasily. Something felt… different. Not quite pain, not quite illness, but something she could not name. She swallowed slowly, her fingers tightening in the blankets.
“What is it?” Eloise asked.
Orick straightened, his expression thoughtful rather than alarmed. He looked between the two women, then back to Eloise.
“Well now,” he said slowly, “this may be somethin’… or it may be nothin’ at all. I need more time to ken what this is.”
“The Laird returns!” the gate guards shouted.
James rode hard through the castle gates, his horse lathered and restless beneath him as he pulled the reins tight. Callum rode beside him, both coming to a halt.
Before he could dismount fully, a guard rushed forward, breathless and pale.
“Me Laird!” he shouted.
James narrowed his eyes immediately, reading the man’s panicked expression with cold precision.
“What is it?” he demanded sharply.
The guard swallowed. “It is Miss Eloise, me Laird,” he said. “She has fallen ill… it is said she is in a very bad way.”
James did not wait another second. He swung down from his horse and shoved the reins into the guard’s hands.
“See to the beast,” he snapped. His boots struck hard against the stone as he broke into a run for the door, his breath coming fast.
Nae Eloise… I cannae lose her… God help her… save her.
His thoughts pounded in rhythm with his steps. Fear, sharp and unfamiliar, gripped his chest as he raced through the corridors.
He reached her chamber and threw the door open without ceremony.
“Eloise!” he called, his voice rough with urgency.
“Me Laird, ye've returned,” Fiona dipped into a curtsy.
Beatrice rose quickly from beside the bed, her face drawn with worry.
“She rests, me Laird,” she said, her voice low but steady.
James barely heard her as he crossed the room in long strides.
He dropped to his knees beside the bed and seized Eloise’s hand, his grip firm but trembling. Her skin was warm, too warm, and her breathing shallow.
“Eloise,” he said again, softer now, desperate.
Her lashes fluttered, and slowly, she stirred. “James…” she murmured weakly.
“I’m here now,” he said quickly, leaning closer. “I’m sorry I was gone. Eloise, hold on… daenae give in.” His voice cracked despite himself.
Her lips curved faintly, her strength barely there. “I’m glad ye’ve returned, James,” she whispered.
He swallowed hard, his gaze scanning her pale face, her weakened form.
“I would have returned immediately if I had kent sooner,” he said, anger lacing every word.
She gave the slightest shake of her head. “Nay matter… ye are here now,” she murmured.
Her eyes closed again, and she slipped back into sleep.
