I blinked to find Isobel’s brows pinched together as she stared at me quizzically.
“I’m sorry. Nothing. I’m just surprised to see you doing so much better.”
“Why would ye be surprised? All days canna be bad ones. If they were then no one would have the strength to fight against the illnesses that plague them. I had a dream last night. In it, a red-haired angel told me to no let the sickness affect my mind and heart.”
“What does that mean?”
Cooper’s question was a vocal expression of the skepticism plastered on each of our faces but as she answered, Isobel didn’t seem to notice.
“That I shouldna give in to sorrow or fear, for I am no yet dead. Perhaps, I can still live past this.”
I glanced in Gregor’s direction to see him flinch slightly, and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him. I refrained from doing so. The gesture would only draw attention that I knew he didn’t want.
Of everyone at the table, Gregor seemed the least pleased by Isobel’s cheery outlook. I realized then just how much his own perspective had changed over the course of a few weeks. Before, it had been him who held out hope, wishing all the while that Isobel would fight, that she would believe that she could get better. Now it seemed their roles had been reversed.
Whether it was our trip here or the presence of a child wise beyond his years, Isobel had decided to rally in whatever way she could. But as I looked at the sadness in Gregor’s eyes, I knew that her hope only broke his heart. He no longer believed her willpower to live would do her any good.
*
Shortly after breakfast, Adwen disappeared. It seemed to be a habit of his—one that I put off to a life spent traveling rather than playing laird and host to his guests. His brother, Callum, had the same tendency. I’d seen little of him since our arrival. Not that anyone minded Adwen’s absence. After the events of the previous day, we were all filthy and tired. Once we’d scarfed down a hearty Adwen-cooked breakfast, we all quickly dispersed to get clean and rest while the snow melted.
I saw Cooper safely settled into his own bath—or at least, I made certain one was drawn for him. He refused to let me be in the room while he climbed inside. “Six year olds,” he said, “are plenty big to scrub their own toes and armpits.” I couldn’t blame him for wanting this privacy.
Chuckling as I left him, I stepped inside my own bedchamber to find a host of women busy changing the beddings, airing the room, and cleaning up the remnants of Isobel’s injury. Not wishing to bathe in front of them, I asked that they prepare me a tub on their way out. I would come back to bathe once they were finished. They agreed and, instead of bathing, I went in search of Adwen to fill the time.
The door to his bedchamber was closed. As I pressed my ear against the doorway, I heard nothing. He’d slept less than any of us, and I didn’t wish to disturb him if he’d tucked away to get a nice, long nap in. But just as I started to step away, my elbow bumped into the door, creating a knocking noise loud enough to rouse a response from him.
“Come in.”
I reached for the handle and pushed my way in. Immediately, I threw my palms up to cover my eyes at the sight of his hands and bare feet hanging out the sides and end of the tub.
“Is everybody in this castle bathing at the exact same time? Someone is busy heating an ass-load of water. Who just says ‘come in’ when they’re in the bathtub?”
“Jane.” He laughed loudly as water splashed onto the ground. He pulled his feet into the tub as I hesitantly removed my hands and stepped toward the side of the tub so I could see his face. “I’m sorry, lass. I thought ye were one of the castle lassies who prepared the bath.”
I kept my eyes away from what sat below the surface of the water, but I was helplessly unable to keep myself from looking at everything that lay outside it.
Every inch of him seemed to glisten with water droplets, making it clear that he’d submerged his entire body beneath the water’s surface more than once. His hair looked darker, his muscles even more defined than I’m sure they did when they were dry. I had to glance continually up at the wall behind him to keep from lingering on his bare chest. It didn’t do any good. He knew I stared.
“Would ye like to join me, Jane? ’Tis no a lot of room, but I think ye could sit atop me just fine.”
I laughed, the giggle coming out choked and breathy. It did nothing to help fortify the resolve of my answer. “Absolutely not. Are you mad? And do you usually just let the ‘castle lassies’ come in and out of your bedchamber while you’re bathing?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Aye, o’course I do.”
“Okay, whatever. Please, finish your bath. I’ll leave you be.”