My Laird's Love (My Laird's Castle Book 2)

by Bess McBride

  I felt a hand cover mine, and I looked at James. The sympathy in his eyes was evident, and I bit my lip. This couldn’t be good for him.

  “Well, that’s my story,” I said, “and nothing for you to worry about. Typhoid fever is curable with the medicine I brought. You will not die.” I said the last words with a bit more firmness than I intended.

  “Nae if ye have owt to say about it.” He smiled, a sleepy smile, and I ran a hand over his forehead again, his skin now comfortably cool.

  “Sleep,” I whispered. “Just sleep.”

  “Aye,” James said. He kept hold of my hand, and I waited until I heard steady breathing before pulling my hand from his.

  I moved to the basin to wash my hands with soap and water and was just about to go in search of Bracken and some bathwater and a room, when he knocked softly on the door and entered, Robbie at his heels. “Duncan has come with a case for ye from Lady Anderson,” he whispered, throwing a quick look toward James. “Do ye wish me to leave it in a room?”

  “Yes, please, Bracken. I was just about to come ask you for some hot water to bathe in and a room. I’m filthy, my clothes must stink, and I could use some sleep. Do you think you could help me out with all that?”

  “Aye, mistress. I will deliver the case to the next room and bring ye some hot water. I will watch over the master while ye rest. Does he require owt?”

  “No, I gave him all his medicines. It’s about eight o’clock, right?”

  Bracken nodded. “Aye, I was just coming to tell ye as ye asked, when Duncan came with the case.”

  “I wonder what’s in it,” I said. I moved over to the sofa and retrieved my pannier. Bracken’s wispy white eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing, choosing to look away. He opened the door for me, and I followed him to the next room, where I promptly stashed the hoop in a corner behind the door.

  The butler bent and retrieved a box sitting near the door. He carried it to the foot of the bed.

  “I will return with the water, mistress.”

  He left, and I surveyed the room, a mirror image to James’ bedroom. Dark-red velvet hangings and a coverlet matched the curtains. It felt chilly, and I promised myself I’d ask Bracken to start a fire when he returned.

  I bent to open the large wooden case. A note lay on top of a pile of clothing. I smiled. Beth! Thank goodness for her. I opened the note.

  Hey there,

  I’m going to guess Bracken hasn’t offered you any of Aunt Edith’s clothes, nor would they fit, so I’m sending along a few changes of clothing.

  Everything is going well here. No one is sick. Did you ever figure out who the carrier was at Castle Lochloon? You have to resolve that.

  I heard about your adventures back in the twenty-first century, that you met our great-great-great—however many—grandkids! Oh, I wished I could have seen them! And to think that one of them is named Beth. Colin said you told him that they both look like him. After all those generations!

  The good news is that means that Colin and I are going to have at least one child together. Thank goodness!

  I’ll let you go. I hope you’re getting some sleep, and I hope James is responding to the antibiotics. Send word!

  Thinking of you,

  Beth

  I folded the chatty note with a smile and closed the case, sitting down on a chair to await Bracken’s return.

  He came back in short order with several buckets of steaming water, which he poured into a claw-foot tub hidden behind a screen.

  “Oh, I thought I’d just do a sponge bath. I didn’t know you were carrying up all that water. Thank you, Bracken!”

  Bracken nodded and turned to leave the room, again keeping his eyes averted from the pannier beside the door.

  “Oh, Bracken! Could you set a fire? I really don’t know how. And do you think you could freshen the laird’s water? Both of you should have fresh, clean water, and by clean, I mean boiled.”

  Bracken’s shoulders slumped just a bit, but he rallied.

  “Aye, mistress,” he said, bending down at the fireplace to light a fire. Once flames took hold, he rose slowly and nodded before leaving.

  I knew I was being a pain in the rear, and I would have asked some brawny twenty-year-old guy to carry up the water if I could, but I couldn’t. There weren’t any about.

  The fire took the chill off the room very quickly. As it did so, I grabbed a linen towel and a bar of lavender soap from the bureau, shed my clothing and climbed into the hot bath, what few inches there was of it. I did my best to wash my hair, frowning when I realized that I had forgotten to retrieve a pitcher from the bureau to help rinse my hair. I was sure I emerged from the bath with a head full of soap.

  I dried off and wrapped the linen towel around my hair, wondering how on earth I was going to comb out the tangles. I searched a nearby very feminine oak dressing table but found no combs handy. With a sigh, I bent over the case and rummaged through it to find a fresh shift. My hand touched something hard, and I looked down to see a comb and hand mirror.

  “Beth, you doll!” I murmured aloud.

  I slipped into the linen shift and then sat down at the dressing table to comb out my hair. The warmth of the fire made me drowsy—that and exhaustion—and I hurriedly finished combing out my hair and made my way to the bed to fall into its soft depths.

  Without an alarm clock, I worried I wouldn’t wake up in time to give James his medication. In fact, I just worried about him generally and preferred to be in his room, but I knew I needed sleep, and I couldn’t sleep if I jumped up to check on him with every moan or breath he took.

  As it happened, I slept fitfully, and I awoke just as a gray light penetrated a crack in the curtains. I used the under-the-bed facilities, washed my face and hands and dressed hurriedly in a blue-gray embroidered bodice and navy-blue silk skirt that Beth had provided. In deference to Bracken and the household, and because the skirt was just way too long, I slipped the pannier back on, allowing the skirts to fall over it.

  I threw my hair on top of my head and secured it with the ribbon Beth had given me, then hurried next door to see how James was. Bracken snored gently in the chair beside the bed, and I went around to the other side of the bed to look down at James. Robbie popped out from under the bed to greet me, and I gave his silky head an absentminded pat.

  A caress of James’ forehead told me that his fever was breaking. Sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip. I knew sweat was better than fever and meant that his body’s mechanism for cooling him down was working.

  He opened his eyes to my touch.

  “I feel wet all over. I must look a sight!” he murmured.

  I smiled affectionately. “Well, I’ve seen you look better. We’ll have Bracken help you bathe again.”

  “Again?” James said. “Och, I just bathed yesterday. I will sicken with so much bathing.”

  I laughed outright, causing Bracken to stir in his chair. He fell back asleep again though.

  “Oh, I don’t think so, James. Bathing is good for you. It’s good for everyone. A certain amount anyway.” Even I knew there was no way folks were going to manage daily tub baths here in the castle, where one had to drag buckets of water up and down the stairs. My own tub of water needed to be emptied.

  I looked over at Bracken again.

  “Poor man, he’s really too old to be doing all this work.”

  “What work is that?” James asked. “Ah! Ye mean bathing me and seeing to my needs? Aye, it is a bit like having my father do such. But I dinna have a valet, and there are no other lads working in the house. I should see to that. Ye’re right. Bracken is getting on in years.”

  “I am still hardy enough to carry ye to and from the bed, yer lairdship,” Bracken said, unexpectedly awake. He eyed me with suspicion and rose from his chair. “Shall I fetch ye some food?” he asked James.

  “Just broth,” I said hurriedly. Bracken gave me a look that suggested I was trying to starve James. “His stomach cannot handle solid food just y
et, Bracken. Broth for a few more days at least, until we know how he is doing. Until his...um...slows down.”

  Both Bracken and James looked at me as if they didn’t understand.

  “Diarrhea,” I said.

  “Ah!” James said, his face darkening. “Yes, an unpleasant subject, and nae one I ever hoped to discuss with ye. Ye heard her, Bracken. Broth it is then. And perhaps just a wee bit of bread?” He looked at me.

  I relented. “All right, just a wee bit then,” I said with a grin. “It’s time to take your pills.”

  Bracken left the room, and I gave James his pills with a cup of water.

  As I bent near, James reached up and gently pulled on one of the curls hanging down from my messy coif.

  “Ye bathed,” he said softly. “Aye, and ye’re wearing a new frock. Verra bonnie.”

  I shook my head with a half smile and straightened. The roll of his r’s still delighted me.

  “You are much too sick to be flirting, James Livingstone. Yes, I had a bath. Beth sent over some clothes, so I was able to change.”

  “Ye smell lovely,” he said, unabashed, swallowing his pills.

  I blushed. A small part of my brain wondered that I was attracted to a man sick with typhoid fever. Wasn’t there an expression? I avoided him like the typhoid?

  Bracken returned very quickly with James’ broth, and I wondered at the speed of the elderly man. I thought I might have something a little more substantial for myself today, and I had every intention of following him down to the kitchen to get something to eat.

  “The lass is here for her medication,” Bracken said.

  “What lass is this?” James asked, taking his bowl of broth from Bracken.

  I hesitated. I didn’t really know James that well and didn’t know how he would react to the knowledge that the girl likely got him sick. But Bracken took the matter out of my hands.

  “The kitchen maid, master. Mistress Scott believes she is the one who carries the typhoid. The girl was sick some weeks ago but returned to work.”

  I hurried to speak.

  “I’ve been giving her the same medication I’m giving you though, James, just in case she’s either still contagious or a carrier. She should be all right in a few weeks.”

  James tilted his head.

  “Aye, well, I dinna worry for myself, but I dinna wish to see my aunt sicken, nor anyone else in the house. Do ye truly think she will be well in two weeks?”

  “I’m not a doctor, James. All I can do is hand out the medication I got. I got enough for you for three courses, and one for whomever I thought had spread the typhoid. It would have been someone who handled the food. It wasn’t Mrs. Bracken, so I think it was the kitchen maid and serving girl, Morna. But I can’t guarantee she won’t still carry the disease even when she’s done with the medication. I can’t guarantee that about you either.”

  “That is true,” James said in a reasonable tone. “We shall see how the young lass fares.”

  “Aye, master,” Bracken responded. He turned to me. “Did ye wish some broth, mistress? Mrs. Bracken does have something more stout set aside for ye, if ye wish it.”

  “Go,” James said. “Go get some decent food.” He chuckled weakly. “I wouldna blame ye. Bracken can help me tend to my needs and clean up a bit while ye’re gone.”

  I smiled.

  “I’ll go down and give Morna her pill. I’m taking Robbie with me,” I said. I called for the dog, left the room and hurried down to the kitchen to find Morna.

  Mrs. Bracken had left the poor girl standing outside. I handed the pill to Morna, and Robbie took off to do his business.

  “Wait. It’s better if you take it with water.” I called over my shoulder, “Mrs. Bracken, do you have any water so she can swallow her pill more easily?”

  Mrs. Bracken bustled out of the kitchen with a pitcher and poured water into the Morna’s cupped hands. I sighed heavily. I agreed with Mrs. Bracken. I didn’t want Morna drinking from cups in the house either. Paper cups would have come in handy. A woman never really knew what she would miss if she traveled backward in time.

  Morna left, and Mrs. Bracken fed me some nice hot porridge at the kitchen table. Though she offered to bring the food into the great room, I declined. I thanked her and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. Robbie joined me.

  I lifted my skirts and walked around the base of the castle, enjoying the feel of sunlight on my skin and vowing to bring James outside as soon as possible. I doubted sunlight would help with the typhoid, but it probably wouldn’t hurt either. I didn’t think James was strong enough to walk downstairs, and I wasn’t sure that Bracken could manage to carry James downstairs. Robbie frolicked and chased birds as we walked.

  The tide was out when I started my walk but slowly came in by the time I tired, surrounding the island with water. Hills ringed the lake, giving one a sense of protection from the elements, of being nestled into some sort of cocoon.

  I perched on the stairs leading up to the castle and leaned against the wall, relaxing in the sunshine. Robbie pressed up against me and stretched out on the stair. Closing my eyes, I thought I must have drowsed a bit.

  A sound woke me, like the jingle of metal, and I straightened with a start. Rubbing my eyes, I gazed out across the short stretch of water leading to land. A small mass of red uniforms on horses mingled there, and I could see Duncan talking to one of the men. What had awakened me was the clinking of the horses’ livery.

  The British!

  To me, those words meant something totally different than I supposed they did to a Highlander. They were a historic reference that didn’t frighten me. Something Paul Revere might have called out. But I had a feeling that the sight of the redcoats on the opposite shore boded no good for James any more than they had for the colonists.

  I couldn’t run into the castle without being seen, so I waited, hoping Duncan would deal with whatever had brought the British to Lochloon.

  Unfortunately, Duncan’s way of dealing with things was to bring two of the men over in the boat. I stood, wondering what on earth to do, what to say. I had no idea what relationship James had with the British, and I knew I was way in over my head.

  Duncan led the two soldiers toward me—officers, by the amount of embroidery on their epaulets. Robbie barked several times before I put my hand on his head to quiet him.

  “Mistress, this be Captain Thompson and Lieutenant Jackson. They wish to see the master.” Duncan dipped his head and stepped back. I hoped he wasn’t planning on leaving, because he needed to take these two back with him.

  Both officers bowed.

  “Nathaniel Thompson, at your service, madam,” the taller of the two said. Blond and blue-eyed, he personified the typical Englishman, at least in my eyes. “This is Lieutenant Jonathan Jackson.” He indicated his companion, also tall and blue eyed, but with sleek brown hair caught into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

  “Hello,” I said weakly.

  “The man says Laird Anderson is ill. Is that true, mistress?”

  I nodded. “Yes, he is.”

  “And you are?”

  The businesslike way Captain Thompson asked the question triggered a sense of alarm, and I eyed the two men standing in front of me with unease. Would they ask for my “papers?”

  “Maggie Scott,” I said. I wanted to say I was staying with Colin and Beth Anderson, but I decided not to bring their names into it.

  “Mistress Scott,” Captain Thompson murmured. “My pleasure. Is Mrs. Carmichael at home? Could we speak with her?”

  “No, she’s away.” I was keeping it brief.

  “I see,” the captain said. “And you are...” He paused, but I didn’t help him.

  “A friend of the family? A relative?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Look, the laird is really ill. Contagious ill, if you know what I mean. He can’t see you, and there is no one here but two servants and me.”

  Captain Thompson’s blue eyes narrowed, and I knew I’d been
too hasty in trying to get them to leave.

  “Contagious, you say? What sort of illness does he have?”

  I wasn’t sure if the truth would be a problem or not, but it wasn’t like the doctor didn’t know. I wondered when that good man was planning on returning, and hoped he wouldn’t bring any little blood-sucking creatures with him. I refocused.

  “Typhoid fever,” I said in as deadly a voice as I could muster.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The lieutenant took a step back, but Captain Thompson held his ground, though he did blink.

  “Typhoid?” he repeated. “How do you know it is typhoid?”

  “The doctor came and diagnosed him.”

  “My goodness!” Thompson said. “Well, of course we cannot see him. And how is it that you have not succumbed, Mistress Scott?”

  I thought fast. Bracken’s story seemed useful.

  “I had typhoid as a child. I guess I’m immune.”

  “Immune?” the captain repeated in a skeptical tone. “I did not know there was such a thing as immunity from typhoid fever.”

  I remained silent.

  He turned and looked at the lieutenant, whose cheeks had paled.

  “You look peaked, Jonathan. Await me at the boat.”

  Lieutenant Jackson wasted no time in trotting back toward the boat. Duncan looked from him to me, and I spoke in my best lady-of-the-manor voice...or what I thought it should sound like.

  “The captain will be returning with you, Duncan.”

  The old man nodded and sauntered down to the boat to await Captain Thompson.

  “If there is nothing else?” I asked.

  “But there is, Mistress Scott. I still do not know who you are or where you come from. Your English is odd.”

  “I’m from the Colonies, a distant relative of the family.”

  “And how long will you be staying with the laird and his aunt?”

  “I’m not sure. At least for as long as he is ill.”

  “Surely you are not acting as his nursemaid?”

  “No, the butler is helping.”

  “And there is no other lady in the house?”

  “Mrs. Bracken is here.”