The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)

“Yes,” she said in a reedy voice.

Not believing her, he stepped back into the room to find her clinging to the edge of the screen with its pretty decoration of Chinese birds and peonies. All hint of color had fled her face, and she didn’t look much better than the waterlogged wraith he’d stumbled across on Canmara Beach.

“God give me strength,” he bit out in impatience and strode over to pick her up in his arms.

“I can walk,” she protested.

“Aye, I can see that,” he said, and bit back a twinge of remorse when his sarcasm made her flinch.

Gently he settled her in an armchair near the fire, still blazing hot and high and warming the whole room. “Stay there,” he said, expecting an argument.

When she didn’t object, he realized she’d reached the limit of her strength. Compassion tinged his impatience, conquered it. The girl might be a liar, but she was also alone and in trouble. She deserved better than a host as grumpy as a bear because he couldn’t swive her.

Under her wide-eyed stare, he restored the untidy bed to order and refilled her water glass, leaving it within reach on the nightstand. “Still nae double vision?”

“No.” She looked exhausted. The fleeting spark of spirit faded away. “I’m just tired.”

“And bruised and sore,” he said. “Shall I carry ye?”

“I’d rather walk, thank you.”

He held out his hand, expecting her to refuse it, but she accepted his assistance without hesitation. Perhaps she sensed that he was no longer any threat. He was furious with himself to think that he ever had been.

With his help, she stumbled the few steps to the bed and slumped onto the mattress with a sigh of weary relief. Diarmid arranged the covers over her.

“I’ll prepare the potion Dr. Higgins left,” he said.

“It made me feel so thickheaded,” she said, too drained to put much force into the objection.

“Nonetheless, you’ll drink it. It will ease your pain and help ye to go back to sleep.”

A ghost of a smile curved her lips as she reclined upon the pillows. “Can I say again how kind you are, even if you’re also a bit of a sergeant major?”

“I’d rather ye didn’t,” he said drily and crossed to the sideboard to mix the powder with some water.

He glanced at the clock. Blast it, Peggy should have been here ten minutes ago.

As if she’d heard him, the door crashed open to reveal the young housemaid looking flustered. “Mrs. Curran, I’m so fashed I’m late. I slept…” Her eyes widened in dismay when she saw Diarmid passing the glass of medicine to the patient. She bobbed into a curtsy so shaky, he wondered if he might have to rescue her from falling, too. “Mactavish, och, I didnae expect to see ye here.”

“I sent Mags to bed,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “I’ve seen to our guest, and she should sleep now.”

“Aye. Aye, I’m sure.”

“So I’ll say goodnight to both of ye.”

“Goodnight, Mactavish,” Peggy said, eyes alight with curiosity as she stared at the girl in the bed.

“Call me if there’s any change.”

“Aye, Mactavish,” Peggy said, managing a slightly steadier curtsy.

“Thank you,” his mermaid said in a low voice. She looked to be nearly asleep.

Diarmid rescued the half-empty glass from spilling and set it on the nightstand. “Dr. Higgins will be back in the morning. Sleep now.”

Her eyelids already descended over those lovely eyes. It was time he left. Good Lord, he shouldn’t have come up here in the first place. He forced a smile for Peggy, as she settled on the chair beside the bed.

Out in the corridor, he came to a stop and struggled to beat back a powerful premonition of trouble looming ahead. This girl from the sea had been here a mere afternoon. Already she disrupted Invertavey’s peace. Not to mention his.