Page 38 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

Something like panic bubbled at the back of her throat, and she turned towards the door. “Well, I’m sorry that I cannae tell ye much more. As I said, I’m Lady Pilbury’s companion. I leave when she leaves.”

The soldier looked disappointed. “Well, I hope ye have a pleasant stay.”

He set off without any other word, his footsteps echoing away down the hall.

Daphne chewed on her lower lip.

I ought to avoid him. That is the sensible thing to do. It’ll reduce gossip. Maybe he’ll forget about me.

On what should have been a reassuring thought but somehow wasn’t, she tapped once on the door and stepped inside.

She found herself in a comfortable-looking room. Tapestries lined the walls, and the stone floor was covered in carpets. A fire blazed in the grate, filling the room with warmth. A large, four-poster bed piled with blankets had been pushed against a wall opposite the fire.

She spotted doors leading out of the room, both ajar. One seemed to lead into a dressing room, the other into a washroom. Padded chairs, cushions, and other furniture were placed tastefully around, offering plenty of places to sit without cluttering up the space.

In short, the room was so tasteful that Daphne could not believe that Hunter had arranged it.

“There you are, my dear,” came Lady Pilbury’s frail voice.

She lay in bed, pillows tucked up behind her back, almost drowned by all the pillows and blankets. Willow was curled up beside her, and the healer, Rhiannon, was just packing her vials and pots back into her endless pockets.

“How are ye feeling?” Daphne asked, stepping toward the bed.

“Better than I expected,” Lady Pilbury admitted. “Rhiannon here gave me a tea to drink. It was quite unfamiliar, but it eased the ache in my chest quite a bit. I feel ready to rest, and hopefully sleep, and that will refresh me. Or so I hope.”

“I’ll take meself away,” Rhiannon said, throwing her a smile. “There’s a bell to pull within reaching distance of yer bed. A maid will come when ye pull it. If ye need me, I can be here in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, my dear. You are most kind.”

Rhiannon gave a nod and a smile. She reached out and tweaked Willow’s nose, making her smile, then slipped out of the room, gesturing for Daphne to follow.

Daphne did, following her to the threshold. They both dropped their voices so they couldn’t be overheard.

“What is it?” Daphne asked, frowning. “Is she more ill than we thought?”

“Nay, I’ve encountered her symptoms before,” Rhiannon answered. “Ye are her companion, aye?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I’ve left a handkerchief with some dried herbs in it by her bed. Every few hours, brew a tea for her and have her drink it. There are some treatments I’d like to try. Maybe they’ll work, maybe they willnae. Daenae get yer hopes up. Keep an eye on her.”

“I will. Thank ye.”

“I must confess, when I kent I’d be taking care of an English lady, I didnae ken she’d be so pleasant,” Rhiannon murmured, shaking her head. “At first, when she talked about ye and the little lass, I thought ye were her daughter and granddaughter. She’s fond of ye.”

“And we’re fond of her,” Daphne responded quietly. “If ye can help her at all, if ye can ease her pain, please do.”

“I will.” Rhiannon nodded and slipped out into the hall.

Daphne closed the door after her, since the draft was making the fire shiver. That was the trouble with big old castles. They were so cold, and Lady Pilbury felt the cold acutely.

“You just missed Helena, my dear,” Lady Pilbury called. “She stayed to see me settled, then had to go off and settle herself in. I daresay she’ll be back shortly.”

“Are ye comfortable?” Daphne asked, going back to her bedside and straightening the sheets.

“Very comfortable. One hears dreadful things about Scottish lairds and their castles, but frankly, I do not think I have ever met with such hospitality!”

Daphne allowed herself a smile. “I’m glad that yer adventure is working out so far.”