Robbie grasped the hand she’d withdrawn, pulling it to lie over his heart as he gazed into her eyes.
“It’s no likely I could sleep through that joustling I took on the stairs, is it?” He tried for a grin but didn’t quite make it. “Did she also tell you she’s my wife?”
“She dinna share that with us,” his mother answered.
“I thought as much,” he said, tightening his grip on Isa’s hand. “But now you ken the truth of it and you’ll look after her, aye?”
“You can look after her yerself, lad, as soon as you’ve healed.” His mother busied her hands, stopping at his Guardian Mark, tracing her forefinger over it.
“I’m no up to an argument, Ma. And you’ll see to the boy’s welfare, too. His injury looks to be infected.” Robbie weakly tried to push himself up to one elbow, but his mother held him down.
“We’ll see to him. Dinna fash yerself so, Robbie. Now let me finish with removing this bandage.” Margery lifted the last of the wrapping from his chest, her fingers faltering as she exposed the wound. “Holy Mother,” she whispered, her composure rattled for the first time.
The jagged wound centered between his ribs, a wide dark stripe, moist and puckered, as if the skin could barely hold itself together over the mark.
Isa struggled to find some sign of improvement. “Esther’s poultice has taken the swelling down.”
Robbie made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a cough, and shook his head. “It’s no her poultice. It’s regressing to where it was when it first happened.”
“Oh crap.” Leah pushed in front of Margery. “Let me see that. This is the big one? The one Cate took you back for? This is exactly what she and Mairi were afraid of, isn’t it?”
“Leah!” The warning in Robbie’s tone was clear, though what he warned his daughter of Isa had no idea.
“Fine,” she answered, her irritation clear. “Well? Is it?”
“It is. I ken you’ve renounced what you are, lass. Still, I’ve no choice but to ask for yer help, though I’ll understand if you refuse.”
Leah crossed her arms under her breasts and paced away from the bed, a stain of red mottling her neck and face.
“Dammit, Robert. After what you did for me? How on earth could I refuse? You wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for me. Okay. Everybody out. If I’m doing this, I need some peace and quiet to work in.”
Isa sat on the cold floor in the hallway outside Robbie’s bedchamber, her head leaned back against the stone. Jamie curled in her lap, his skin hot and fevered to her touch.
There was so much she didn’t understand, not the least of which had to do with Robbie’s relationship with his daughter. The girl even called him by his given name rather than Father.
Margery approached, pacing up and down the hallway as she’d done since Leah had shuffled them all from the room what felt like hours ago.
“I canna imagine what in the name of all that’s holy can be taking the lass so long to—”
The chamber door opened, interrupting Margery’s rant.
Leah leaned against the doorframe, her face damp with perspiration. “It’s no good. Whatever magic has hold of him, it’s stronger than anything I can do. Isa, he wants you with him.”
Isa lifted the groggy child in her lap to his feet, and Margery took hold of the boy’s shoulders as Isa stood and hurried to Robbie’s side.
One touch of his forehead told her the fever burned in him, and she wrung out a cloth from the basin next to the bed, gently placing it over his skin. His eyes opened and he gave her a weak smile.
“It’s as I feared. The Fae Magic will have its way with me, but as soon as Leah has rested, she’s promised, she’ll see to Jamie.”
Fae Magic?
“What do you speak of?”
His eyes had closed and his breathing slowed. He slept again, so she wouldn’t wake him now, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t insist on an answer when he did awaken.
What reason could the Fae possibly have for doing something like this to him? It was much more likely that in his fevered state he had mixed the stories of her involvement with the Fae into what he suffered.
The very idea wracked her with guilt.
