Page 86 of My Notorious Highlander

She sent him a bittersweet smile. "I pray you're right."

His eyes widened. "You do?"

"Aye."

"You want to marry me. I knew it," he said with satisfaction.

She nodded, a mist of tears burning her eyes.

"But I want you to know, Jessie, I'll marry you even if you don't conceive."

She shook her head. "That means more to me than I can say, but your clan would hate us. You would grow to resent me if I couldn't provide you an heir."

"Nay. Never. I swear to you, Jessie—"

Someone knocked hard at the door.

Torrin muttered a curse.

"I'd better see who that is." She slipped her hand from his and went to open the door.

Iain waited in the corridor, his dark blue eyes concerned. "How is Torrin?"

"Come in," she said.

He advanced into the room and stood by the bed.

"I'm alive," Torrin told him, his face tight and pale.

"Thank the saints. I grew worried when I saw Lady Jessie rush from the great hall and follow the healer."

"You may need something else for the pain," Jessie told Torrin. "I should get Flora."

"Aye. The pain is growing worse," Torrin admitted.

His statement alone worried her, for she knew he wouldn't have said it if the pain wasn't severe.

∞∞∞

"I will sit with Laird MacLeod tonight," Jessie said to Nannag an hour later. "You need some sleep." Though the elderly healer did not look near as exhausted as Jessie felt.

"Very well, lass." Nannag sent her a sweet smile. "Flora will sleep here on the pallet by the fireplace in case you need her."

"That will be good."

After Nannag left, Jessie pulled the straight chair closer to the bedside and, in the dim glow of the candle, watched Torrin sleep. Whatever potion Flora had given him for pain had knocked him out. She studied his breathing—deep and even—and prayed that meant he was strong enough to pull through despite his severe injuries.

They had planned to spend the night together in her chamber. What a terrible turn of events. The main thing was he lived, for which she was exceedingly grateful. He had come to mean more to her than she would've ever thought possible. Aye, indeed, she loved him.

An hour or two later, he shifted and muttered something she couldn't understand. He thrashed about, then shivered. She touched his forehead.

"Saints, you are burning up," she whispered.

"Jessie?" he murmured.

"Aye, 'tis me."

His eyes remained closed.