A glance at Blake showed that he still slept the deep sleep that worried her so, and Seonaid stood to move toward the door. It would only take her a minute to have a word with Emmalene.
She was just reaching to open the door when it did so on its own, and Seonaid was forced to step back to avoid it hitting her.
"Oh, Seonaid," Aeldra said with surprise on spying her so close to the door. Then her eyes widened and her gaze shot to the bed. "Is he--?"
"Nay, he's the same," Seonaid said quickly. "I was just ..." She hesitated, reluctant to reveal her plans to Aeldra. Her cousin would probably think she had lost her mind if she caught wind of them. Instead, she asked, "Is there something yer wantin'?"
"Oh." Aeldra hesitated, then blurted, "Lord Amaury just suggested that as Blake will be a while recovering--He seems sure he will, by the by," she interrupted herself to say, and Seonaid knew it was an attempt to cheer her. "He says Blake is too damned stubborn no to, but as 'twill no doubt be a while 'ere he does ..."
"Aye?" Seonaid prompted when Aeldra hesitated.
"Well, he seems to think Little George and I should go visit his family in the meantime so they can meet me," Aeldra blurted out. "He seems to think Blake will want to head home the moment he is better and we will probably no be in this area again for a while, and--"
"Go," Seonaid interrupted, and Aeldra peered at her uncertainly.
"Go?"
She nodded firmly, thinking this was perfect. For some reason she felt better about attempting changes to herself without her cousin here. Besides, Emmalene had said the first night they were here that Little George had suffered much tragedy lately, and Seonaid knew from the nightly conversations she'd indulged in with Blake since their wedding that the tragedy was the murder of the man's wife. He wasn't the only one to have suffered tragedy lately. Aeldra had lost her brother and surrogate mother in one fell swoop. Here was her chance to be welcomed into Little George's family. Seonaid was happy for her.
"Ye wouldna mind?" Aeldra asked. " 'Cause if ye would, we could stay and--"
"Nay. Go and have a nice visit. There's no sense yer sitting around here awaitin'. I'll send news when Blake wakes up."
"Thank ye." Aeldra gave her a quick hug, and Seonaid frowned.
"What're ye thankin' me for? 'Tis no as if ye needed me permission, Aeldra."
"Aye," her cousin countered. "We did."
When Seonaid started to shake her head at the nonsensical claim, Aeldra gently pointed out, "Little George is Blake's first. He serves him. With Blake unable to give permission, we needed yours to go."
Seonaid stared as she realized it was true. She didn't like the idea at all, but it was the truth. Frowning, she shrugged uncomfortably. "When are ye leaving?"
"Right away, most like."
"Well, go on with ye then." She gave her a push toward the door. "Have a good time."
"Aye." Aeldra started out the door. "Send a messenger if ye need me."
"Aye. Oh!" Seonaid said, and her cousin paused at once to glance back.
"Aye?"
"Could ye ask Lady Emmalene to come speak to me when she has a moment?"
"Aye." Aeldra grinned, then pulled the door closed, and Seonaid turned and walked back to the bed, considering all she had to do and learn.
Chapter Sixteen
The first thing Blake was aware of was a terrible pounding in his head. It was bad enough that he nearly groaned, but--suspecting it would merely add to his pain--he managed to restrain the urge. Then he noted the unpleasant, pasty taste in his mouth and wondered what the hell had happened to him. He hadn't felt this bad since shortly after earning his spurs. Blake had celebrated the occasion with wine, women, and song--for three days. The agony he'd suffered afterward was enough to convince him that alcohol was a substance best indulged in sparingly.
Had he forgotten that long ago lesson and overindulged again? He didn't recall. The last thing he remembered ...
Blake ran through the memories jostling about in his head. He'd traveled to Dunbar on the king's order to marry Seonaid Dunbar, had chased her all over Scotland, managed to get her back to Dunbar, wedded her and bedded her--he paused for a moment to allow those memories to claim him. His wife was making him think that marriage would not be the boring burden he had always feared it would be. She was not like other women; forever acting demure and prissy. She was ... fun.
Seonaid played with him; wrestling and laughing, not worried about her hair being disturbed, or her gown getting torn, or her nails being broken. And when they had camped out on the way to Sherwell, she had not fussed about the discomforts of travel, or stood cowering when he fought off their attackers. ... Actually, he almost wished she had. Blake had been distracted during the fight, worrying about her battling at his back. It was part of the reason he'd not been able to keep his feet when she'd bumped into him, but had stumbled into--
Blake's thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he remembered the sword slicing into his side. The ride afterward was something of a blur to him, but he did recall they had been headed to Eberhardt. He suspected he had been sliding in and out of consciousness most of the way.
Well, that explained why he felt so awful, Blake thought, then blinked his eyes open and glanced to the side as a softly muttered curse caught his ear. He recognized the room he had slept in when last at Eberhardt. He didn't, however, recognize the woman who sat sewing in the chair at his bedside. His first thought was that she must be a servant. Dark hair peeked out from beneath a head dress, but the woman's face was hidden from him, her head bowed, her attention on a bit of sewing in her lap.
The gown she wore didn't appear to be servant's garb, however. It was a plain style, but of a cloth too rich to be a servant's. He wondered who she was, and then in the next moment wondered where the hell his wife was. He had been badly injured. Would it have been too much to expect her to tend to him rather than leave him in the care of a complete stranger, lady or no?
Blake must have moved or made a sound, for the woman suddenly lifted her head to peer at him. Her eyes immediately went wide, and she tossed her sewing aside to shift forward on her seat, closer to the bed. "Ye're awake!"
Blake stared at her in amazement. It had taken him a moment to recognize the face framed by the circlet and veil she wore, but he knew the voice at once. God's toes! The dark-haired stranger at his bedside was his wife. In a dress. And she was sewing! Blake opened his mouth, closed it again, then opened it once more, but no words came to mind. He hadn't a clue what to say.
"Ye canna speak?" Seonaid guessed. "Doona try to, yer probably parched. Ye've had naught to eat or drink for days. I'll fetch ye some broth. They've been keeping a pot of it on the fire for days in case ye woke up. Doona go back to sleep, I willna be long."
Blake stared after her as she stood and hurried out of the room, the dark blue gown swaying with her movement. The only thought in his head was to wonder what had happened to his wife. It was a thought that was to repeat itself often over the next few days.
Seonaid pulled the door closed and rushed down the hall to the stairs. Blake was awake! She could hardly believe it. Her husband had finally woken up, and it had happened without the least bit of fanfare. She had glanced up and there he was, eyes open.
"Lady Seonaid, what--?" Lady Emmalene paused at the top of the stairs at the sight of a flustered Seonaid rushing down the hall toward her. "Is he awake?"
"Aye."
"Thank God!" Her relief was obvious but quickly replaced with an expectant smile. "How is he feeling? What did he say? Does he like your new dress?"
Seonaid blinked. She'd forgotten all about the transformation she'd been working on these last two days. Lady Emmalene had been more than enthusiastic in helping her. She'd set the servants to work on a dress at once, suggesting a plain style so that it could be done more quickly. The women had finished it but hours earlier, and Seonaid had donned the blue gown, then sat patiently while Emmalene had dressed her hair and arranged a matching dark blue circl
et and veil on her head.
She felt uncomfortable in the garb but knew she would grow used to it in time. Seonaid also missed her sword, but Lady Emmalene had insisted she should not wear it.
That was not all Lady Emmalene had done. The woman was training her in womanly pursuits, such as how to direct servants, the ins and outs of managing a large estate, and sewing. Seonaid had been practicing the last skill when Blake had awoken.
"Seonaid? Did he not like it?"
"I doona ken," she admitted. "He canna speak. 'Tis his throat, I think; dried out from so long without liquid."
"Oh, aye, of course." Emmalene turned on the stairs and started back down. "You stay with him. I shall fetch some broth."
"Thank you." Seonaid whirled back the way she'd come and rushed to the bedchamber door, only to pause once there. "Doona rush or stride about," she reminded herself. "Walk like a lady." It was an oft-heard refrain as Emmalene had tried to help her become more ladylike.
Nodding, she opened the door and walked inside, forcing herself to take small, measured steps. It was a bloody nuisance, but Blake deserved a proper wife, and proper wives did not stride around with purpose like men.
Always try to smile serenely. Men have many trials and tribulations during the day and appreciate a wife who has a soothing smile.
Her hostess's voice echoed in her head, and Seonaid plastered what she hoped was a soothing smile on her face as she glanced to the bed. She was relieved to find he was still awake and had not dropped back off into his deathlike sleep again.
"Lady Emmalene is fetchin' ye some broth," she announced, trying to speak softly, as Lady Emmalene did. Well, as Lady Emmalene did when she wasn't bellowing.