“Where are ye going?” Aulay asked with concern.
“Back to watch over Dwyn,” he said, stepping over the bench.
“But you have not eaten,” Jetta pointed out with concern.
Geordie paused briefly, but then shrugged indifferently. “I’m too tired to be hungry.”
He didn’t wait for further protests, but walked away and headed for the stairs.
As he’d expected, Una and Aileen had changed and made themselves more presentable while he was gone. The two stayed long enoughto assure him that Dwyn hadn’t stirred at all while he was gone, and then slipped from the room.
The moment the door closed behind them, Geordie climbed into bed with Dwyn, shifted himself onto his side behind her so thathe was spooning her and then wrapped an arm around her and quickly drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 9
Dwyn woke up feeling like something had crawled into her mouth and died there while she slept. On top of that her head waspounding, and her stomach muscles ached with every breath she took. But she had no immediate need to retch. That was somethinganyway, she thought grimly as she opened her eyes and peered around what she could see of the room. Bright sunlight was streamingin through the open shutters, falling on the gowns and shifts discarded in a pile in the corner, and the empty mugs on thebedside table.
A grimace claimed her lips when Dwyn spotted the mugs. One was the remaining half of the sleeping potion Rory had mixed forher after Geordie had first brought her back to the room she and her sisters were using. The other was a half-full mug ofcider that she’d tried to drink in the middle of the night after going a half hour without retching. It was as much as she’dmanaged to drink before her stomach had rebelled.
Sighing, she closed her eyes briefly, and then frowned slightly as she became aware of a heavy weight along her side to herhip, and something warm against her back. Opening her eyes again, Dwyn shifted her head slightly on the pillow to stare blanklyat the arm resting along her side that ended in a sun-darkened hand that was curved over her hip. She recognized that hand.She’d watched it twirl flowers between thumb and finger, hold reins before her, tug up the neckline of her gown and closeover her breasts. The hand was Geordie’s. She was in bed with Geordie.
Dwyn knew she should be shocked at that, but couldn’t find the energy to stir the emotion let alone sustain it. Besides, he’dbeen there the whole time she’d been sick, holding her with care and concern while she’d retched, murmuring soft soothingwords after and cradling her in his arms in the short intervals in between.
Geordie Buchanan was a saint, Dwyn decided with a weary smile. Her own father had never even visited her when she was illas a child, staying far away from her at times like that lest he get sick himself, yet this man had tended her like a lovingnursemaid. Of course, she’d been poisoned, which wasn’t something he could have caught. Still, he had taken care of her, andthat was what was important.
Reaching down, she covered his hand gently with hers, startled when his hand suddenly turned under hers and his large fingersslid between her smaller ones and clasped gently.
“Ye’re awake.” It was a sleepy growl by her ear, and Dwyn closed her eyes briefly at the shiver it sent through her.
“Aye,” she whispered after a moment, frowning when her voice came out husky and broken. Her throat hurt to speak.
“How is yer stomach?” Geordie asked, concern entering his voice. “Do ye think ye could keep cider down?”
Dwyn grimaced at the mention of cider. She’d spent quite a while retching up the last bit of cider she’d tried to drink, andthe memory made the drink completely unpalatable to her just then.
“Mead instead?”
Dwyn turned her head to see that he had rested his elbow on the pillow behind her and propped his head on his hand. It puthis face above hers so that he could look down on her. He’d seen her grimace, she realized, and quickly turned her head awayso that he couldn’t look on the horror she must be at that moment.
“Mayhap mead,” she whispered, unable to speak with full volume until she had something to drink. At least, she hoped liquidwould soothe her sore throat and allow her to speak again.
Dwyn stilled with surprise when Geordie suddenly bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek. When he followed that by rolling awayfrom her, she turned onto her back, and watched silently as he strode to the door and slipped out of the room. The momentthe door closed behind him, she sat up and swung her feet off the bed, but paused when her wrapped feet hit the floor andshe recalled that she was not supposed to walk on them.
Scowling, Dwyn glanced down at herself and then around the room. She wanted to wash her face and brush her hair. She’d liketo change out of her wrinkled dress too before he returned, but she couldn’t get out of bed and nothing was close enough tobe useful. Breathing out an exasperated breath, she tugged up her neckline, and tried to brush out the worst of the wrinklesin her skirts, then she began running her fingers through her hair, trying to restore some order to it. She was still workingon it when she heard the door open. Turning swiftly, she peered over her shoulder and saw her sisters entering.
“Geordie sent us to sit with ye while he arranges fer food and a bath fer ye,” Aileen said with a bright smile as she hurriedto the bed.
“How do ye feel?” Una asked, following their younger sister.
“Like horse dung,” Dwyn admitted with a grimace, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Oh.”
