Page 88 of My Notorious Highlander

Though she told the truth, she hoped he wouldn't remember it. Their feelings for each other were strong, but that wasn't the only factor. To a chief and his clan, the heir was of primary importance.

Holding her hand, Torrin lapsed into a deeper sleep.

Soon, dawn light gleamed silvery gray through the narrow window, and Jessie grew more and more sleepy. She would just lay her head down for a minute on the bed to rest her tight shoulders and neck.

The rattle of the door latch startled her awake and she sat upright. The room was lighter now and Iain stood on the threshold.

"How is he?" Iain whispered, then moved to stand at the foot of the bed.

Truth be told, she'd been asleep and wasn't certain. She ran her gaze over Torrin, then laid her palm against his forehead. Still a bit too warm, but not scalding. His breathing was deep and even.

"Very well, I think."

"Thank the saints," Iain said, keeping his deep voice low. "You've taken excellent care of him, m'lady."

"God and the healers deserve all the credit. I merely sat here."

"You did far more than that," Iain said with a slight smile.

She wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she wasn't going to argue.

"Don't tell him I said so, but you, sitting here, holding his hand, will mean more to him than all the medicine in the world."

Her face burned, and she dropped her gaze to study Torrin. He moved a bit, a frown creasing his brow.

Torrin must have talked to Iain about his feelings for her. She wasn't sure whether to feel embarrassed or glad.

"I'll let you both rest," Iain whispered and slipped out the door.

Flora roused from her sleep by the hearth and pushed herself up. "How is the laird this morn?"

"Improving, I think. But mayhap you should check him over to be sure."

Moving to the other side of the bed, Flora placed a hand upon his forehead. "Aye. Still a mild fever, but I think he is doing well, all things considered."

"Thanks be to God," Jessie murmured.

"Aye, I think your prayers helped, m'lady." Flora went back to her herbal concoctions.

How did she know Jessie had prayed for Torrin? She had done so silently. Maybe the woman had simply assumed it, since 'twas obvious Jessie cared a great deal for Torrin.

Moments later, Nannag stole into the room, her footsteps so light, Jessie almost didn't hear them. Her white hair was confined beneath a red kertch, and her blue eyes were as bright as the morning sky.

"The lad is doing well, aye?" she asked in her papery thin whisper. "His color is better."

'Twas true. How had Jessie missed that? Last night, he had been so pale.

"Aye," Jessie said, feeling more hopeful.

Torrin shifted again with a low grunt.

"Mayhap you would like to get him some thin porridge while we check his wounds," Nannag suggested.

Jessie didn't see how a woman in her nineties could be so chipper and spry this early in the morn. She must have slept well.

Jessie stood and rubbed her low back; it ached from having sat in the same position so long.

"You need to eat something, too," Nannag told her. "'Twill take us about a half hour to re-bandage his wounds."