The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

She heard the other man, the one with the old voice, the soft voice, saying, “Keep that up, my lord. Wipe her down until the fever lessens. Every several hours, make her drink as much as she’ll take.”

She felt the cool air touch her skin. She vaguely realized that someone was taking off the sweaty nightgown, and she was thankful for it, for quite suddenly she felt the itchiness of her skin. She felt the wet cloth wipe over her breasts and ribs. But it didn’t go deep enough. She was still so very hot, deeper inside, and the wonderful cold of the cloth didn’t reach it. She tried to arch her back to bring the cloth closer.

She felt a man’s hands on her arms, pushing her back down, and he was saying quietly now, that beautiful man, “Hush, I know it burns. I had a very bad fever once, as you well know, and I felt as if I were in flames on the inside, where nothing could reach, and I was burning from the inside out.”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’ll keep doing this until that burning is gone, I promise you.”

“Colin,” she said, and she opened her eyes and smiled at him. “You’re not an angel. You’re my bloody husband. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yes,” he said, and felt something powerful move inside him. “I won’t leave you again, no matter what.”

It seemed then she must make him understand. She tried to lift her hand to touch his face, to gain his attention, and her voice was hurtling from her throat, the words raw and ugly. “You must leave, it’s safer for you. I didn’t want you to come back until I’d taken care of him. He’s a weasel and he would

hurt you. I must protect you.”

That made Colin frown. What the devil was she talking about? Who, for God’s sake? She closed her eyes again and he continued to wipe her down, from her face to her toes. When he turned her onto her stomach, she moaned softly, then sprawled boneless on the sheets.

He continued rubbing her with the damp cloth until she was cool to the touch. He closed his eyes for a moment, praying for her and praying for himself, that God would find him ample enough in grace to listen to him. Finally the fever was down. “Please, God, please let her be all right,” he said aloud in the silent bedchamber, a litany now.

He covered her when he heard the bedchamber door open.

“My lord?”

It was the physician. Colin turned, saying, “The fever is down.”

“Excellent. It will rise again, doubtless, but you will handle it. Your son is sleeping on the floor outside the door. Your daughter is sitting beside him, sucking on her thumb and looking very worried.”

“As soon as I’ve put my wife in a nightgown, I will see to my children. Thank you, Childress. Will you remain here at the castle?”

“Yes, my lord. If she will survive, we’ll know by tomorrow.”

“She will survive. She’s tough. You will see. Besides, she has a powerful incentive—she’s got to protect me.”

And he laughed.

Sinjun heard the woman’s voice and she knew deep sudden fear. She was afraid to move, afraid to open her eyes. The voice was vicious and mean.

It was Aunt Arleth.

“So you’re not dead yet, you little slut. Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we? No, no use you struggling, you’re weak as a gnat. Your precious husband, the young fool, left you. Aye, left you to my tender mercies, and you’ll get them, my girl, oh aye, you’ll get them.”

“Aunt Arleth,” Sinjun said as she opened her eyes. “Why do you want me dead?”

Aunt Arleth continued speaking, her voice softer now, running on and on, the words melting together. “I must move quickly, quickly. He’ll be back, doubt it not, the young fool. He doesn’t want you, how could he? You’re a Sassenach, not one of us. Aye, perhaps I must needs place this lovely soft pillow over your face. Yes, that will do it. That will send you away from here. No, you don’t belong here, you’re an outsider, a no-account. Yes, the pillow. No, that’s too obvious. I must be more cunning. But I must act, else you might live to spite me. Aye, you’d make my life even more a misery, wouldn’t you? I know your sort—vicious and mean and not to be trusted. Aye, and pushy, treating us all like worthless savages and taking over. I must do something or we’re all lost. Even now you’re planning to send me away.”

“Aunt Arleth, why are you in here?”

She whirled about to see Philip standing in the open doorway, his hands fisted on his hips. “Papa told you to stay away from here. Get away from her, Aunt.”

“Ah, you wretched little giblet. You ruined everything. You’re a disgrace to me, Philip. I’m taking care of her. Why else would I be here? Go away, boy, just go away. You can go fetch your papa. Yes, go get the bloody laird.”

“No, I will stay here. ’Tis you who will leave, Aunt. My papa isn’t a bloody laird, he’s the laird and he’s the very best.”

“Ha! Little you know what he is! Little you know how his mother—aye, my own sister and your grandmother—played her husband false and fell in with a kelpie, aye, a kelpie she called up from the devil himself to dwell in Loch Leven. He became a man in the form of her husband, but he wasn’t her husband because it was me he loved, and he didn’t look at her anymore. No, the man she fornicated with wasn’t her husband, for the real laird was mine in all ways. Hers was this kelpie and he was one of Satan’s minions, a false image, evil through and through, and the son she bore this false husband was Colin and he is as evil and bone-deep blighted as was his kelpie father.”

Philip didn’t begin to understand her. He prayed his father would come, and quickly, or Mrs. Seton or Crocker, anyone, anyone. Please God, bring someone. Aunt Arleth was agay wi’ her wits, as Old Alger the barrel maker was wont to say.