Eveline nodded. “ ’Tis fair. I do not want to believe this of my father. He should be given the opportunity to defend his name and his honor.”
“You should rest now, Eveline,” Teague said. “You’re beyond your limits, ’tis plain enough for anyone to see.”
She shook her head, adamant in her refusal. “I’ll not leave him. He’s taken a fever now and ’tis more important than ever that I not leave his side.”
Bowen sighed, but he didn’t argue further. He rose and Teague pushed the chair back into its place near the window.
“We must go now to see to this matter. If Graeme awakens for any length of time, send for us immediately.”
Eveline nodded her agreement and then sagged in relief when the two brothers took their leave of the chamber.
She rose to redampen the cloths and returned to Graeme’s bed to wipe his flesh down once more.
“Hurry and be well,” she whispered. “I’m frightened, Graeme. I do not want war between our clans.”
CHAPTER 37
It was two more days before Graeme’s fever finally broke. Eveline remained holed up in their chamber, afraid more than ever to venture into the midst of the clan. By now they would have all heard that it was a possibility her father had planned the attack on Graeme. It would only give them more reason to hate her. Not that they seemed to need one.
She’d finally succumbed to utter exhaustion and had drifted into sleep, sitting up in bed beside Graeme an hour before dawn. He shifted against her, causing her to immediately come awake. The soft light of daybreak filtered through the furs that had partially been drawn aside.
She glanced down to see Graeme’s eyes open and sweat beading his brow. He shoved at the furs and she could see that his entire body was bathed in sweat.
“Graeme! Oh, Graeme!” she exclaimed, not even sure she could be heard. Her throat was still sore and swollen even days after the attack, and it ached every time she tried to speak.
She leaned over him, touching him, feeling the clamminess of his skin, but he was no longer dry and hot!
His unfocused gaze rested on her for a long moment and then he frowned.
“What happened?”
“Do you not remember?” Eveline asked.
His brows drew together as if he was in deep thought. Then a rush of color entered his cheeks and his eyes sparked with rage. He grasped her shoulders, holding on tightly as he seemed to examine her for injury.
“Are you all right?” he demanded. “Did he hurt you? What happened after I took the arrow?”
“Graeme, you mustn’t move your arm!” she scolded.
She took his left arm from her shoulder and eased it back down to the bed. A flash of pain registered in his eyes, and then he glanced impatiently at the bandages on his shoulder.
“Answer me, Eveline. Are you well?”
She touched his cheek, caressing the firm line of his jaw, relief so overwhelming that she felt weak with it.
“I’m perfectly fit,” she said. “ ’Tis you who gave us all a fright.”
His frown deepened. “How long have I been abed?”
“Four days. ’Tis truly a miracle that it’s only been four days. You’ve had a fever and I expected it would last much longer than it has.”
He immediately tried to rise, but she planted both hands on his chest and pushed him back down with a fierce scowl.
“You’re not to move from this bed,” she bellowed.
He flinched and his eyes widened at the volume of her demand. She knew it had been loud, but she wanted to be sure and make her point.
He settled back on the pillows and then studied her intently, his gaze going up and down her body.
“You look terrible, Eveline. Did you tell me an untruth? Were you harmed when I was attacked?”
It was simply too much. Everything hit her at once. Relief. Exhaustion. Fear. So much relief. She burst into tears.
Through the sheen of moisture glazing her eyes, she saw Graeme try to sit up, and then he leaned his head back and bellowed something. A moment later, his brothers rushed in, and then Bowen was lifting her from the bed, his arm solidly around her.
But she couldn’t stop crying. It was as if any and all strength she had left fled the moment she knew Graeme would be all right.
And then another arm slipped around her and she was guided to the bench by the fire.
To Eveline’s shock, when she lifted her head, Nora was there, setting a fire. Nora tossed in several logs and set flame to wood. Then she turned and pinned Eveline with a determined look.
“Now, lass, I know you’ll probably screech and try to drive me out of the laird’s chamber, but you don’t have the strength to do it and I’ll not be budged this time. ’Tis time someone took care of you. You’ve been at the laird’s bedside for days. You haven’t eaten. You haven’t slept. You’re hurting from your own fall and begging your pardon, but you look terrible.”
Fresh tears slipped down Eveline’s cheeks. She was so exhausted that she couldn’t summon the energy to do anything more than sit there and cry as the second person in as many minutes told her how awful she looked.
Nora stood, waiting, hands on her hips while Eveline wiped at her face. When she was sure Eveline was looking, she continued with her speech.
“I owe you an apology, lass. We all do. But there’s no time for that right now. What’s important is that you don’t fall ill yourself and that the laird is taken care of.”
Eveline started to protest, but Nora held up her hands.
“No one is saying you haven’t done a fine job of tending the laird. I’ve never seen a fiercer champion. But he’s recovering nicely and currently he’s over in that bed demanding to know what’s wrong with you.”