Page 38 of Tempting the Highland Captive

The men sat in thoughtful silence for a time, each with his own regrets and concerns. When the men’s training session ended, they all made their way back up to the great hall in search of a drink. Ron entered the hall and immediately went in search of Maggie to inquire after Amelia’s wellbeing. He found her in the kitchen stirring a small pot of something that smelled terrible. “Laird.” She nodded in greeting as he entered.

Ron raised his brows in surprise but saw that there were several kitchen maids about and nodded in acceptance of her efforts to keep the secret. “How is our lady?” he asked, his eyes gesturing to the floor above them.

“Unwell,” Maggie answered honestly. “I am makin’ her a little something tae ease the discomfort.”

Ron leaned over the mixture and sniffed. He recognized it to be a hangover remedy. “We all may have imbibed a bit tae freely,” he admitted.

“Aye.” Maggie nodded. “Poor thing could nae eat anythin’ this morning.”

“Shall I take it up tae her?” Ron asked, grateful for an excuse to go and speak with Amelia. He felt that he needed to apologize for his actions of the night before.

“If ye wish.” Maggie gave the contents one final stir then ladled out a cup full of the acrid brew.

Ron took the cup from her and carefully ascended the back stairs to the bedchambers above. Knocking on the door, he was bade entry. When Amelia saw that it was him and not Maggie, she stiffened. The room smelled of vomit, but he ignored it and crossed the threshold. “What are ye doing here?” she demanded to know, clearly displeased to see him.

“Maggie made ye a brew,” he explained, crossing the room to hand her the offending cup.

Amelia sniffed it and wrinkled her nose. “Are ye certain that it is nae poisoned?”

Ron laughed and for a moment the tension was broken. “How are ye feeling?”

“Awful,” Amelia admitted. “I feel as if there is an anvil inside o’ my head.”

“That does nae sound verra pleasant,” he commiserated, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I am familiar with the feeling.”

“How do ye manage tae drink as we did last night and still be able tae train the men in the morning?” She took a tentative sip of the drink in her hand and grimaced.

“Years o’ practice.”

Amelia snorted, then winced. “How did ye live long enough?” she moaned and let herself fall back upon the pillows, handing him back the cup.

“Some mornings, I was nae certain that I would.” Rising, he walked over to the washstand and dipped a rag in the water. Returning to the bed, he placed the cool cloth upon her forehead. “This should help.” Sighing, Amelia closed her eyes and let him care for her. “I owe ye an apology,” he began, but was immediately cut off by her hand swiping though the air in dismissal.

“I dinnae wish tae discuss it.” Her tone left no room for argument. “Ever.” She turned away from him and covered herself back up.

“As ye wish,” he murmured and arose to leave. He crossed the room and opened the door but paused in the doorway. “I care about ye, wife. Ne’er doubt that.” His heart ached in his chest, he left her room and returned to the great hall below.