And as he tightened his grip on Eloise’s hand, James made a silent, unyielding vow.
I will find them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
James stirred slowly, the stiffness in his neck reminding him he had not left his place at Eloise’s bedside. His head had fallen forward sometime in the night, exhaustion claiming him despite his resolve.
Then he heard it, soft, fragile, but unmistakable. “James…” His eyes snapped open at once.
He lifted his head and turned sharply, his breath catching in his chest. Eloise sat upright against the pillows, her color returned, her eyes clear though still faintly tired.
“Eloise,” he breathed, rising quickly to his feet. Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as though she might vanish if he did not.
“Thank God,” he murmured into her hair. “I thought…” He could not finish the thought.
She let out a soft breath against him. “I am well,” she said gently. “A bit weak, perhaps, but I feel much better.”
He pulled back slightly, his hands still gripping her shoulders as he studied her face. “Ye shouldnae have frightened me so,” he said, his voice rough.
She offered a faint smile. “I didnae intend to.”
A quiet step sounded behind them.
“The fever has broken,” Orick said, approaching with calm assurance.
James turned sharply toward him. “Aye?” he demanded.
Orick nodded. “Aye,” he said. “I will continue treatment for two more days, but she should recover fully.”
Relief flooded James’s expression, though it did not fully soften the tension in his jaw. “Good,” he said simply.
Eloise glanced between them, her brows drawing together slightly. “Ye make it sound far worse than it was,” she said.
Before James could answer, the door opened, and Beatrice entered with Fiona close behind her. They carried trays, one with broth, the other with tea.
“Ye’re awake!” Beatrice exclaimed, her face lighting with relief.
Fiona smiled warmly. “That I'm glad. Orick said ye must eat this herb broth to regain yer strength, miss.”
James stepped forward immediately, his expression sharpening. “Who made it?” he demanded.
Fiona blinked in surprise. “The kitchen, me Laird,” she said. “Mairi oversaw it herself.”
James’s gaze darkened. “Nae one can be trusted,” he said coldly.
Beatrice stepped forward quickly. “I agree,” she said firmly. “That is why I stood there and watched it be prepared. I never took me eyes off the food or drink.”
James studied her for a long moment, weighing her words. Then he gave a short nod. “Very well,” he said.
Fiona set the tray down carefully, and Eloise reached for the broth.
“This is unnecessary,” she said quietly, glancing at James. “It must have been a mistake. Nay one would try to poison me on purpose.”
James’s gaze snapped back to her, hard and unyielding. “Ye cannae ken that,” he said.
She frowned slightly. “Why would anyone wish me harm?” she asked.
James did not answer immediately. His silence was answer enough.
