by Tamara Gill
“Were you engaged to him?” Kenzie amended her accusing tone. “I apologize, it’s just, he’s so, so…”
“Sickly and drunk, I believe ye said.” The rascal threw her a smile that bordered on sexy, and it was certainly triumphant. Kenzie ground her teeth, hating that her body reacted the opposite of how it should in front of such a womanizing jerk.
“Kenzie, tell me you didn’t call Ben such names. That’s not how we speak to any of our guests.”
Chastised, Kenzie bit her tongue, wanting to retort that she’d speak to the drunk in any way she wished. After reacting to ale as if she was feeding the man the devil’s drink, what kind of person was he? A simpleton? An ass? The latter seemed to suit him more.
“Kenzie, is it? Weel, what a sweet name for such a pretty lass.”
“That’s enough talking from ye.” Gwen threw a warning glance at the laird and pulled Kenzie to the side of the room. “What’s the matter, lass. Do ye not like the laird?”
“I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with him other than he’s drunk, has had no food, and is in need of a good wash and sleep. And as soon as he opened his eyes when you were making his medicine, he was stating how pretty I was and how you were ‘his Gwen.’”
Understanding dawned in Gwen’s gaze, and she chuckled. “Kenzie, I will admit there was a time that Black Ben courted me, but I never loved him, and I never would have married him, even if he wished it. And he is married to another.”
“Is? He’s married still? I thought…” Why this revelation made the air in her lungs expel, Kenzie didn’t know, nor did she wish to analyze it, certainly not now with him looking at her again, taking in her every detail and probably making an inventory of her failings.
Gwen shook her head. “No, let me rephrase that. He was married. Aline, his wife, died after the birth of their first child, only a few months ago. The babe is fine, but I think Ben is suffering from the loss of her. We need to be kind and understanding. Please try, my dear. Once ye get to know the laird, you’ll find he really is a lot of fun and quite charming in his own way.”
Kenzie studied him again. Maybe she had been too harsh in judging the guy. It couldn’t be easy losing the one you loved and having a child to raise on your own. She sighed, her annoyance lessening a little.
“Fine. I’ll be civil, but if he annoys me in any way, doesn’t show respect to you or your marriage to Braxton, you must give me leave to remind him of his honor as a gentleman. If he has any, that is.” Which Kenzie highly doubted.
“He’s not a threat to me or Braxton if that is ye concern.”
The man himself cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I can hear ye, and by the way, now that the both of ye are side by side, I can’t help but notice—the similarities are striking.” He paused, tipping his head to the side. “Gwen, lass, you’ve not been playing about with ye spells again, have ye?”
Kenzie gasped, meeting Ben’s gaze. Did he know of their “gifts”? And what would he do with such knowledge?
“Nay, you know I cannot since I lost my abilities after the fire, but I cannot say the same for my relatives in the future.” Gwen walked to the door and summoned a servant. “Kenzie, please explain as best ye can to Ben, while I organize what’s required to attend him.”
Kenzie watched her ancestor leave her alone with the smelly male and turned to catch him studying her intently. She narrowed her eyes. “If you must know, and since it seems Gwen trusts you, I’ll tell you exactly who I am.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Aye, very good, lass, but first, do ye think ye could put a woolen throw over my legs. I’m a wee bit cold.”
She sighed, but did as he asked, all the while thinking that the blanket would be ruined after being placed on such dirty trousers. Not that she wanted to be so anal about things. Normally, she didn’t have a problem helping someone in need, but there was something about this man, something that instantly put her on guard, that she didn’t trust. “Anything else, your highness?”
He chuckled and commenced coughing, as if his lungs would soon spill out into the sick bucket. Instinctively, she touched his brow and found it overly warm, and she wondered if he was sicker than she thought.
“Ale,” he rasped. Kenzie did as he asked and sat on a chair nearby, waiting for him to catch his breath. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get Gwen again?”
“Nay, lass. I’ll be well in a few days.” He paused, taking some steadying breaths. “Now, tell me from where ye come.”
Kenzie thought about how to go about telling someone such a thing and then decided to jump straight in. “I’m Gwen and Braxton’s descendant from the future. I’ve come back to see them.”
“Aye, makes sense, since ye look so familiar, but tell me, lass, what brings ye to our time. ’Tis not an easy era to be visiting.”
Kenzie didn’t disagree, but then, if she wanted to visit the matriarch of the family, this was the only time she could. Not to mention, she’d had a captivation with history, and the man before her, since forever. Not that she’d be telling him any of that.
“Your time is quite different to mine, of course, but I’ve become fascinated in particularly with this time, especially after I sent Abby back.” She paused as Gwen came in carrying a tray with an array of bowls, medicinal bottles, and flasks of liquid, presumably some herbal concoctions. “How do ye know my time is less savage than this one? I never stated what year I hailed from.”
“From Abby, of course. I’ve had the pleasure of many interesting conversations with her. You seem very similar to her and it isn’t hard to guess you are from a similar time.”
“Of course.” Kenzie moved out of the way as Gwen started to fuss with Ben. She watched as she removed his dirty shirt and using another bowl brought in by a servant, started to bathe him. Braxton came in and offered his assistance, which Gwen was only too happy to accept.
“What century, Kenzie?” Ben rasped, seemingly half-conscious.
“The twenty-first, my Laird.”
Gwen and Braxton cleaned him up as best they could and with the help of some male servants, carried the laird upstairs.
Over the next hour, the laird’s health deteriorated, and no longer did he speak or acknowledge them in any way.
“He’s very ill, and there’s a distinct rattle in his lungs that makes my blood uneasy. I do hope he’ll pull through. He’s been through so much already.” Gwen paused, turning to a servant. “Forget the laird’s bath. He’s too ill to be moved.”
Kenzie didn’t know what Gwen meant by such words, but with the worry etched on her face, now wasn’t the time to pry. Helping her clean up, they soon had the little room they’d carried Ben into back to its former self, before they both headed upstairs. “You’re fond of this man, Gwen?”
“Aye, very much so. And before ye go back to ye time, I may tell ye our history. But not tonight, ’Tis very late, and ye should be off to bed. What a day you’ve had already, what with coming here and then all this with the Laird of Ross. You must be exhausted.”
They climbed the stairs together, Kenzie noting for the first time there was no carpet run on the steps beneath her feet. “A little, but I’m energized by just being here.” She paused. “Are ye sure you do not mind me staying for a while? I so wish to get to know you and this time better.”
Gwen met her gaze as they reached Kenzie’s room. “We love to have ye here, never doubt that, but the time is fraught with danger, so ye must promise to listen to me if I say ye should or should not do something. Can I trust ye to obey me at all times?”
“Of course, I’d never do anything to put myself, you, or your family in danger. I promise.”
Gwen smiled, and Kenzie recognized her mama in her great great great grandmother many-times-over. How amazing that the family line, even now, resembled those from the past.
“Now, ’tis best ye get back to bed,” Gwen said. “Morn will be here before we know it.”
Kenzie walked into her room and noted the se
rvants must’ve been in and lit some candles for her. “If you need any help with the Laird of Ross, please don’t hesitate to wake me. I want to be helpful while I’m here.”
“I know ye do, lass, and ye will be.” Gwen kissed her cheek, giving her a small hug. “I will see ye on the morn.”
“Good night,” Kenzie said, getting into bed and studying the ornate plasterwork on the ceiling. How wonderful to be here. And to think they would travel to Druiminn castle and she would see Abby, a woman from the twenty-first century who’d made this time her own. Excitement thrummed through her veins, and sleep proved elusive.
Chapter Four
The following week was full with running around nursing the sick laird. There were rounds of bathing, dressing, cooling down and heating up the man, as he lay abed, sweating, swearing, mumbling incoherent words that were brought on by his fever.
And even with all this care, the man still seemed as ill as the day he arrived. Kenzie sat, watching his labored breathing, the line of sweat that beaded his top lip. She had to do something. Anything was better than this continual state of hell.
“Gwen, may I have a word?” Kenzie asked, catching the woman as she walked swiftly toward the kitchens. Gwen’s healing abilities, her knowledge of herbs that could heal the sick or injured were wonderful and well documented in the family history, but in this case, something stronger, possibly twenty-first-century prepared, was required.
“Of course, my dear.” Gwen wrapped her arm in hers and walked them toward the front parlor. “What is it you wished to discuss?”
Kenzie shut the door behind them, wanting to make sure no servants heard what she was about to suggest. “I brought some medicine back in time with me. Just in case I needed it, you see. I didn’t wish to fall ill in this century. I took precautions and such before leaving but this is different.” Gwen stared, clearly confused by what she was saying. “The medications I have could possibly help the laird if you’ll let him take it.”
“Truly?” Gwen sat and waved her over to join her on the lounge. “Like what, lass?”
“Just small things, like cough medicine, and paracetamol, which helps bring fevers down. It may help him, or at least relieve his symptoms a little.”
“Why did ye not mention them before? Ben’s been here a week already.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” Kenzie didn’t like the slight timbre of Gwen’s chastisement, but she was right. The man had been here for seven days, and she should’ve spoken up about her idea sooner, but… “Truly, I didn’t mean not to help, but I wasn’t sure if it was something I should do. No one in this time has ever been exposed to the kinds of medicine I have, and it worried me that by giving it to the laird I may make him sicker, or even worse, kill him.”
Gwen patted her hand, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Nay, lass, I understand. Of course, ye were worried and rightfully so. But I think in this case, it’s a risk we need to take. Nothing I’ve tried has helped him, and his fever is something I canna get down.”
“The paracetamol will help best with that. I’ll retrieve it and meet you in the laird’s room, if you like.”
“I’ll fetch another pitcher of cool water and meet ye there.”
Kenzie did as Gwen bade and collected the medicine. The day she’d arrived she’d hidden it behind a loose board next to the fireplace, not wanting any of the staff to find it. A box with smart packaging and pretty little tablets and a bottle of liquid with a child-proof cap wouldn’t be the easiest items to explain.
Gwen was already beside the laird when Kenzie arrived, and she quickly passed the two tablets over.
“Leave us,” Gwen commanded to the two maids who bustled about the room, stoking fires and taking away dirty linen. The two girls did as they were told, closing the wooden door silently behind them.
“Does he swallow them whole, or can I crush them into a drinkable solution?”
“You can do either, but I’d suggest you crush them. In his current condition, I don’t think the laird is capable of swallowing them whole.” Her ancestor looked at the little tablets, running her finger over them, before placing them in a mortar and pestle and crushing them to powder.
“They’re the oddest little things. You’ll have to tell me what’s in them, so I may be able to reproduce them in some way here. If they work, of course.”
Kenzie smiled. “They’ll bring his temperature down, of that I have no doubt, but as for the infection in his lungs… Well, we could try the cough medicine and see if that alleviates his symptoms a little.” Or not. She was unsure if any of it would work. She watched as Gwen placed the crushed tablets into a cup and mixed them with ale.
The laird tossed and turned on the bed, sweat beading his brow and his cheeks as red as a beetroot. Kenzie wasn’t sure if the pills would help the infection that was raging through his body, but she hoped so. Gwen did seem very fond of the man, and although he’d been quite annoying the first time she’d met him, the past seven days had been different.
Probably due to the fact he was mostly in a comatose state, but even so, he was easy to look at, even as ill as he was. His ebony locks hung loose about his shoulders. Kenzie was shocked to feel a pull of some sort of emotion she’d never experienced before. Of course, it wasn’t because he was very handsome with high cheekbones, a perfect straight nose, and lovely brows that were a lot more obvious now that he was cleaned up a little. She wasn’t that shallow to crush on a guy near his death bed.
Kenzie helped sit the laird up, and with a little coaxing, Gwen was able to get the paracetamol down without too much spillage. He flopped back onto the bedding, his face a mixture of pain and annoyance.
Over the next few hours, the fever, which had wrecked his body, abated a little, but in the following days, the Laird of Ross’s health fluctuated wildly. Kenzie gave an abundance of paracetamol to him, along with the cough medicine, but still, the cough rattled the man’s chest and sounded painful whenever he breathed.
“A drink.” He coughed again. “Please, lass.”
Kenzie poured a cup and rushed over to his bedside, pleased to see him trying to sit up for the first time in what seemed like weeks.
“You’re awake. I’d not thought I’d ever see the day.” She helped him to drink. His skin still felt damp, but the fever had broken if the coolness that touched her palm was any indication.
He drank soundly, finishing the cup. “Thank ye.”
“You’re welcome.” She sat down beside the bed, wiping his brow with a damp cloth. “Can you remember anything over the past few weeks? Do you know where you are?”
His eyes took in the room before narrowing in contemplation. “I’ve no blasted idea where the hell I am. Although ye’re familiar to me.”
“That’s probably because I’ve been looking after you. You’re in Gwen Macleod’s home. It was gifted to her and Braxton from her brother, Laird Macleod.”
“I dinna need a history lesson, lass. I know who Gwendolyn is.”
He pushed himself up, leaning against the headboard, and the blankets that were previously covering his chest slipped, exposing a very fine body. Kenzie bit her lip as she watched it flex with the movement of him pushing his hair out of his face. Standing, she walked over to the basin of water and rinsed the cloth in her hands, fiddling with anything so she didn’t have to look at him. When he’d been ill, laying limp and stinking to high heaven, she’d tried to keep her mind on the task of keeping him alive.
But now. Wow. With a body like Black Ben’s, and a voice of Scottish sin, he was every twenty-first-century woman’s fantasy.
“Did we not argue the last time we met? I believe ye didn’t like me verra much.” He nodded, sitting up further. “Aye yes, ye were a right banshee and one from the future even. Just like the delightful Abby Macleod.”
“That’s right, but you were extremely obnoxious, and if you should be again, we’ll argue some more.”
“Seems to me we’re arguing already—about arguing.” He smiled
, meeting her gaze.
Kenzie’s tummy fluttered at the amused look he threw her that made him look five years younger, carefree, and happy. And yet, there was something in his eyes that was far from jovial. If anything, it was dark, dangerous, and tinged with anger. She placed the cloth back on his brow.
“Do you think you’re capable of bathing? I can have the servants bring up a bath for you. But only if you’re feeling up to it. You have been very sick.”
“That would be most welcome, and, lass,” he said, groaning as he slid to the side of the bed, putting pressure on his feet for the first time in days. “Thank ye for ye kindness. I’ll not forget it.”
Kenzie did as he asked, finding a maid in the corridor and sending her down to prepare water and have the menservants carry up the bath. She didn’t immediately go back into the laird’s room and instead, went to her own, wanting to change as she’d taken the night shift the previous evening and needed to feel a little more human. She would sleep a thousand years after last night. And as soon as the laird was bathed and dressed, Gwen should be in to take over his care.
A loud crash sounded in Black Ben’s room, and she hurried back to it, only to open the door and see the laird as naked as the day he was born, fighting to pull off his pants.
“Ye either going to keep staring at me ass, lass, or are ye goin’ to help pull off my trews? I’m not as strong as I was, and they seem to be stuck about my feet.”
For the life of her, Kenzie couldn’t drag her gaze upward from his groin. Seriously, what other assets did this man have? She swallowed hard, finally managing to turn around and give him privacy. “Umm. Maybe if you sit on the bed and cover yourself that would be better, before I help you, that is.”
“Ye’ve been bathing me these last few weeks, why the modesty now?”
Her cheeks burned. “I have not been doing anything of the kind. So, turn around and sit down, or you can ask someone else to help you.” Kenzie heard mumbling, with words like, minx, annoying wench, and damn it. The list went on until he called out that he was ready.
