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.
Kenzie was relieved to see he’d pulled a woolen shawl across his lap as she came to his side. Lifting his foot, she pulled off the stiff pants, which took her some, since his body was so filthy. She threw them toward the door, coughing as the stench wafted up to her nose.
“I dinna stink that much, lass,” he said, looking offended.
“May we enter, m’lady?” a maid asked from the door.
“Of course.” Kenzie waved them in. “If you would set the bath up beside the fire, that would be great. Thank you.” She watched as a steady stream of servants came in and out of the room, carrying buckets and linen cloths similar to what she’d call a towel. Two of the maids stripped the linen off the bed, right down to the hay, replacing that, as well, before throwing down two large animals furs and making the bed up as it was before. Ben sat on a chair near the fire, neither watching nor taking any interest in the goings-on in his room, quietly contemplating the flames.
At last, the door closed, and they were alone. “Your bath is ready. Are you going to be okay getting into it?” She checked the temperature of the water, and it was hotter than she thought it would be.
“Of course, but if ye want to stay, lass, you’re more than welcome to clean me. I could do with a good lather.” He came and stood behind her and every nerve in her body sparked to life. What a flirt he was, and a good one, since she contemplated it for all of one second.
“I think not, my lord. Now,” she said, stepping away while fighting her impulse to remain. To be this close to the laird was too dangerous to ignore. Her body didn’t want to refuse his offer, no matter that her mind did. “And let me remind you of a few things, Laird Ross, just in case you’ve forgotten,” she said, angry that her body seemed to have a mind of its own.
Kenzie pushed him toward the bath, ripping the towel away from his hips and fighting not to look. “You smell. In fact, the stench that is wafting from you is beyond anything I’ve ever smelled in my life. Not to mention, your teeth need a thorough brushing as your breath isn’t much better than your body odor. So, no, I neither want to wash you or join you in the bath. But I will show you where the soap is, so you may get started.”
“No need. I can find it myself.” He gestured toward the door. “If ye don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”
“Great. I hope not to smell you soon.” Kenzie left the room and shut the door with a bang, a full stop on his suggestion and her ridiculous mind that had actually considered it. Smelly or not, it wouldn’t take her long to right that wrong, and it had been so very long since she’d had a boyfriend. She wasn’t so innocent not to know what a man could do with his hands…or his mouth.
She stormed into her room and paced before the windows, opening one and standing before it. The cool air kissed her skin and went some way in reminding her she didn’t want to just throw herself at anyone who was willing. And she definitely did not even like Black Ben enough to do the dirty with him. An atrocious flirt, if ever there was one, and definitely a man no woman could trust. His lifestyle after the death of his wife was proof of that.
…
Ben glared at the door as it closed behind Kenzie and then, holding the edges of the wooden bath, lowered himself into the water. Och, he needed this. The warm water smelled of herbs and knowing Gwen, had some sort of healing properties as well. Soon the heat helped his aching bones, and he lay back, enjoying being anywhere but his bed. He’d been stuck in this room for far too long, and he longed to get outside, have some sunlight on his face and perhaps a good spar or two.
An image of Kenzie outdoors alongside him flittered through his mind, and instantly the thought soured his mood. “Menacing wench,” he mumbled, finding the lavender soap and washing his arms. If she wasn’t so damn sweet looking, he’d demand Gwen send her home.
What was it with these women from the future who were self-assured and tough? Not like the women of his time. Women who took no bullocks from their husbands and ran a home with an iron fist.
He looked over at the bed and wondered how long he’d been here. He really ought to return home, check on Alasdair, and ensure all was well with the estate. Guilt pricked his conscience that he’d not been the father he’d promised to be. Was his boy crawling now? Had his hair grown, did he still have his mother’s striking, blue eyes?
Not to mention, should Aedan hear of his dissolution, his closest ally would hunt him down and give him a good wallop. And in truth, he deserved one. He’d been less than what he was brought up to be. Aline, may her sweet soul rest in peace, would be disappointed in him. Just as he was, now that he was sober enough to know it.
With a large amount of effort, he managed to get out of the bath, dress, and clean his teeth, just in case the wench from the future was right, and his breath did stink. His exertions left him drained and leaving only his tunic on, he crawled back into bed.
The door swung open, and he looked up, hoping to see the brown-haired lass, but only to see his fiery-red-haired Gwen.
“Ah, you’re about, just as Kenzie said ye were. ’Tis a happy day, and I’m glad ye’re getting better.” Gwen came to sit on his bed, and Ben gave her a weak smile.
“I’m so tired. I feel like I’ve been in battle.”
“Well, ye have, in a way. You’ve been very ill, Ben. I thought for a few days there, we were going to lose ye, but luckily for you, my clever Kenzie saved ye life.”
Ben frowned, not sure if he should feel alarmed or comforted by that fact. Kenzie had saved his life? “How so?”
“Ye were drunk, but ye also caught a terrible ailment of the lungs. Ye breathing was labored, and ye breath cracked on exhale. Kenzie had some medicines she brought from the future, and they seemed to help bring ye temperature down and to soothe your cough. Ye are very lucky she was here.”
“Damn it,” he mumbled, not wanting to be in debt to the lass. “Now I’ll have to thank her.” He looked over at Gwen, thankful to have her as a friend. “She doesn’t like me.”
“Who? Kenzie?” Gwen grinned and opened the heavy curtains that covered the windows, spilling light into the room. “Of course, she does. Ye just have to be your charming self. Not the sword-wielding, overbearing Highland ass ye sometimes can be.”
Ben ignored her insult. “She hates me innards with a passion. Hell, had I died, she would’ve probably danced a jig on my grave.”
Gwen raised her brow, and he grasped what she was thinking. That he was acting all piqued over a lass he had no right to feel piqued over. “Over-exaggerating much? I’m sure ye’re wrong.”
“’Tis not my concern, in any case. She’s your problem.” He sighed, hating the fact that his words rang false, even to his own ears. “I need to return to Castle Ross and soon. I’ve not been the best laird I could have been.” He paused. “I feel I’ve let Aline down.”
“Aye, when you’re able to ride, I’ll allow ye to leave. Until then, ye’re to stay here and gather your strength. I’ll not hear another word about it. And secondly,” Gwen said, coming to sit on the bed and taking his hand. “Should I hear about ye whoring in any more inns across Scotland, I’ll be letting my brother know about it, and then you’ll really get what’s coming to ye. Do ye understand, my friend?”
Ben narrowed his eyes, not liking the chastisement by two women in one day. One was enough. “I’m not going to live my life as a monk, Gwen. Will ye let me visit my lady companions so long as I stay sober and discreet?” He grinned.
Gwen threw him a scathing look, and he laughed. How he adored her, always had. She was the one person in the world who’d never shied away from telling him the truth. Most people, after meeting him, agreed with every word he said and wouldn’t dare naysay the towering, sword-wielding Black Ben.
He supposed it was one of the reasons he liked this Kenzie lass, too. Just like Gwen, she wasn’t afraid of him. Quite the opposite if her banshee mouth was any indication.
“If ye behave and act like the laird that ye are, I’m sure it’ll be fine. But heed me, Ben. Should I hear of anymore of this shocking, dissolute lifestyle you’ve adopted, I’ll be putting a stop to it.”
Gwen left, and not long after, a bowl of vegetable broth arrived, along with a cup of ale. Ben looked out the windows, seeing the ocean and its vastness beyond the shore. Gwen was right and had voiced what he himself had already known. It was time he returned home, stopped acting like an ass, and became the father he longed to be. The sound of a door closing in the room adjoining his sounded, along with muffled voices—one he recognized as Kenzie’s.
She had a soft voice, but it was laced with strength. Mayhap in the days ahead, he could come to be friends with the lass from the future. Learn a little more about her time that had endlessly fascinated him after talking to Abby Cross.
Kenzie was his last thought before sleep captured him again.