Splicing pain seared from one temple to the other. Lilias grabbed at her head and moaned. Had someone come into her chamber in the middle of the night and cleaved off the top of her skull? She reached up, palpating around her forehead to find that she was indeed still in one piece. Moving her arms was a struggle. They were so heavy. And, lord help her, but everything hurt. Bad.

She moaned, rolling to her side and trying to sit up, but that movement proved not to be a good idea. Instantly, nausea rolled through her, her vision wavered. She bolted for the chamber pot, as the burning contents of her stomach rose uncontrollably up her throat and spilled out in purple, stinking currents.

Wine.

An entire flagon of it. She’d never had so much wine in her life. And now she was going to pay the price she’d seen many of her father’s men recompense.

She searched the room for the basin of water and crawled toward it, recalling that when her father’s men were ill he splashed buckets over their faces and it somehow helped the men to miraculously get themselves together.

Grabbing hold of the sides of the small table that held the basin and pitcher, she wrenched herself to her feet, but another wave of nausea caused her to collapse in a dry-heaving lump. Thank goodness she appeared to be drained.

At that same moment, the door to her chamber wrenched open, and she saw from the sides of her eyes that Dirk filled the doorway. Concern etched his face. Brows drawn, lips stretched thin.

“Are ye ill?” he asked, though it was obvious. She saw his eyes flick toward the filled chamber pot, then back to her.

Oh, no… The last thing she wanted him to see was that. Heat filled her face and she wanted to crawl beneath the bed and hide from him forever. “Go away,” she mumbled, waving at him to leave.

She squeezed her eyes shut, heard his muffled curse and then the sound of his footsteps as he marched toward her. Well, rather, she felt his footsteps, as they reverberated off the wooden planked floor and vibrated her body. She shuddered.

A moment later, he’d lifted her in his strong, warm arms and was placing her back into her bed, tugging the sheet and thick blanket back up around her trembling form. With his hands pressed down on either side of her, he searched her face with an intensity she found both unnerving and contradictorily settling.

“Water,” Lilias croaked, pointing to the pitcher. “Throw it on my head.”

Dirk raised a brow at her. “Are ye hot? Is it a fever? I’ve never known men to get a fever from wine. But ye’re clearly no man. And I’ve never seen a woman looking crapulous. Do women get a fever from drinking too much?”

“Crapulous?” What an odd word.

“Aye. Means ye drank too much wine, lass, and that it made ye ill. Ye did get yourself well and goodly intoxicated.”

She went to shake her head, but that only made the room spin more. The only thing that seemed to make it stop was lying on her side, tucking her knees up to her chest and squeezing her eyes closed. “Nay, ye got me intoxicated.” That was a lie. She’d asked for the wine. Insisted on it. Again and again.

Dirk chuckled, the sound low and soothing. “I but filled your glass when ye demanded it. Trust me, I’ll not be doing that again.”

She pressed her hands over her face, noticing that when she blocked the light from behind her closed eyelids it made her head feel slightly better. “I’ll never drink wine again.”

“Drink this instead.”

He held a cup to her lips, and water flowed into her mouth and then soothed its way down her burning throat. She grasped the cup greedily, wanting to drink and drink, but he held it back. “Not too fast, else ye toss up your accounts again.”

God’s blood! He’d seen the chamber pot, and she’d forgotten. Had likely heard her, too, as she’d felt like she was dying when it happened, which is probably why he’d barged into her chamber in the first place.

How was she going to manage getting out of bed in order to get back on the road? They were supposed to leave after breaking their fast. The very thought of riding a horse at that moment made her want to crawl beneath the bed and never come out.

“I…” Oh, the mortification. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I willna be able to ride today. I can barely move. I just canna do it.”

Dirk made a sound with his tongue. “’Tis all right. When ye slept past dawn, I tried to wake ye, but ye were snoring so loudly, I was certain ye didna hear me.”

“Past dawn?” She opened one eye to peek up at him. “I never sleep past dawn.”

Dirk chuckled. “Aye, lass. ’Tis nearing noon. My men are starting to think ye’re a wee bit indolent.”

“Oh,” she moaned, rolling over. “I am a fool. How can I face anyone again?”

“Dinna worry, beag calman. I told them all ye were sick from food. Which of course gave the innkeeper a bit of worry, but since no one else was ill, I said it must not have agreed with ye. That ’haps nerves made it worse.”

He’d called her little dove, the sweetest endearment she’d ever been given, and certainly a nod at the poem she’d recited. Och, why could he not have been the one she was to wed? The way he was taking care of her now was entirely domestic and comfortable, and sent warmth running through her. She felt safe with him. Cared for. Lilias rolled back over and gazed at him through slitted lids. “No one knows about the wine?”

“Nay, sweetling. Your secret penchant for drunkenness is safe with me.”

Another endearment! She wanted to laugh or cry, but even smiling hurt her face. A torrent of emotions ran wild through her. “Go away.”

“Is that any way to treat a man with your secret?” He grinned teasingly.

“’Tis your secret, too, my laird, for ye’re the one who gave me the wine and stayed up with me until the wee hours of the morning imbibing.”

“Hmm. I suppose we’ll both have to keep quiet then. I’ll not want to ruin my reputation.”

Lilias did laugh at that, then grabbed her head at the stabbing pain. “Your reputation?”

“Aye. If my men knew I was in your chamber so late, they would believe ye ruined me.”

Lilias gasped. “What?”

Dirk chuckled. “Rest, drink more water, beag calman. I’m going to see if I can get the innkeeper’s wife to make ye a tisane to help with your head and stomach.”

As soon as he was out the door, she groaned with embarrassment, feeling her stomach roil again. Saints, but it felt like the worst of any fevers she’d had. And the thought of drinking a tisane had her gagging before it was even brought in. Why couldn’t he just have tossed the water on her head like her father did with his men? Why did he have to tease her and call her sweet, tender things?

Lilias picked up the cup of water Dirk had left her and held it above her head. This was not going to be pleasant. Squeezing her eyes shut, she went to tip the cup, then decided against doing it lying down. She didn’t want her pillow to be wet, after all.

She stood, wavering on her feet with dizziness, her bare toes clutching the old planks of the wooden floor. Before she could change her mind, or collapse, she dumped the cup over her head. Gasping she tossed the cup across the room, hearing it clatter somewhere and swiped at the water running over her eyes with her fingers, then lifted the hem of her chemise and wiped away the wetness. She frowned, still feeling horrible.

Lilias climbed back into bed, wishing she could sleep, but her eyes remained wide.

A moment later, Dirk returned, knocking softly.

“Come in,” she said, even though he’d already entered.

Immediately, his assessing eyes were on the wet puddle on the floor, but one look at her damp hair and he hiked a sardonic brow. “Ye dumped it on your head, didna ye?”

Lilias let out a defeated sigh. “Aye. It didna work.”

Dirk chuckled. “If ye want, I can carry ye out to the horse troughs and dunk your head there? That’s what I do with the lads.”

“Och, nay, thank ye. I just want to feel better.” The last thing she wanted to do was go outside where everyone could witness her shame.

“Time, beag calman, ’twill just take time. Sit up. I’ve brought ye something that might help a bit more.”

“What is it?” She stared at the cup he held out to her with steam coming off the top. It smelled bitter, and she bit the tip of her tongue.

“Innkeeper’s wife swears by it. And considering they likely have plenty of guests needing it, I’d trust her at her word.”

Lilias edged up in bed on her elbows. Leaning back against the pillows, she held out her hand. The contents smelled horrible. She stared into the cup. Little flecks of green, brown, and yellow floated on the surface.

“Take a sip, and if ’tis not too hot, drink it quick,” Dirk said. “Afore ye change your mind.”

She eyed him over the rim. “Have ye had it afore?”

He nodded. “Not here, but plenty of times at Dunstaffnage.”

“Why aren’t ye sick now?”

“I can handle my wine a wee bit better, lass.”

She cocked her head in question. Warmth seeped into the cold tips of her fingers. “How does one handle it better?”

He grinned. “Well, if ye were to add about seven stone to your frame, ye might fair a bit better.”

“Hmm.” The scent of the tisane was not growing on her, but seemed instead to reek all the more. She shuddered. “Size has something to do with it?”

“Most times.” He nudged her over and sat on the edge of the bed.

Lilias tucked her legs up to her chest, still determining whether to drink. “What about the other times?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen lasses your size that can hold their cups better than some of my warriors, but ’tis usually because they spend their days drinking it in heavy quantities.”

Lilias stuck out her tongue. “I dinna want to do that. I never want to feel this way again.”

“I would not recommend it.” Dirk chuckled.

Frowning, she said, “Well, not becoming crapulous would be ideal. But, I suppose I should get used to drinking this tisane, for it seems unavoidable.”

Dirk gave her another one of those skeptical looks. “What makes ye think ye’ll be imbibing that much again? Ye just said ye didna want to feel the after effects ever again.”

Lilias let out a long sigh. “Aye, but I dinna see what choice I have. I am going to be married off to a stranger, and I’m likely to be unhappy the rest of my days. Perhaps I want to develop a penchant for drunkenness?”

Dirk scoffed. “Whatever for?”

She rested her chin on her knees, trying not to wallow in utter despair and discomfort. “So I can drown my sorrows.”

Dirk’s face went cloudy at that, his eyes shuttering. “Come now, beag calman.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Drink up.”

Lilias did as he suggested, closing her eyes to hide the tears that were suddenly welling there. She took a sip of the hot tisane. It wasn’t overly hot, but it was extremely bitter. The only positive was it didn’t taste quite as awful as it smelled. She choked on the first sip, then forced herself to drink the rest as quickly as she could.

“There ye go.” He took the cup. “Want some bread or an oatcake?”

She shook her head. Then nodded, suddenly ravenous.

“I’ll be right back.”

She watched him move toward the door. This big, hulking warrior who was taking care of her like a nursemaid. “Wait.”

He turned around, eyeing her with curiosity.

“Thank ye. Ye make a good nursemaid.” This time she gifted him with a wink.

Dirk looked momentarily taken aback, his chest filling with air but not releasing it. Then he said, softly, “Ye needn’t thank me, lass. I shouldna have poured that last cup. Or perhaps, the last two or three cups.”

Lilias wanted to reach for him, to call him back to sit on the bed beside her. She leaned forward, about to do so, but stopped herself. “’Tis not your fault. I was quite insistent.”

The smile returned to his face, sending a current of warmth through her. “That ye were.”

Biting her lip, she blurted out, “I had fun, for what its worth.”

Dirk raked his eyes over her. “So did I.” There was a heat behind his gaze that had her body answering in its own feverish sort of way.

What was that?

Desire?

Did she simply admire him a lot?

The sensations and emotions going through her were confusing to say the least. When he nodded and then left her chamber, she was almost relieved that she could ignore whatever was going on inside her head.

It was too much.