“What have Marion and Bridgette done so far to try to break the fever?” she asked.
Cameron quickly told her they had tried bloodletting. She nodded. “I would have started there, as well. That was a sound choice. Have them try coriander. If that dunnae work, tell them to fill a wooden wash basin—” She paused. “Ye do have wood basins here, aye?”
He frowned. “We do.”
By the perplexed look he gave her, she knew he had not realized that no one had offered one to her. She still wore the same filthy, torn gown she had for days. “I was nae sure,” she said, glancing at her frayed sleeve and then away. Now was hardly the time to bother Cameron or any of the other MacLeods for a wash basin. “Have them fill a bucket with the coldest water they can and make him sit in it until his teeth chatter,” she continued. “Often, that will help chase the fever away. Ye should go now and tell them.”
“I kinnae,” he protested, looking from her to her door.
She sighed. “I vow I will nae go anywhere.” When he didn’t look convinced, she added, “Where would I go? To the west is craggy land and a heavy mist. To the right is the loch, and I’m nae such a fool to try to escape in the dangerous waters of the loch alone.” She could see him working his jaw back and forth, but finally, he shook his head. Frustration nearly split her in two, and she stomped her foot. “Lock me in, then,” she said, hardly believing she had just suggested he do something that made her so fearful.
“I—” He rubbed at the back of his neck as he shifted from foot to foot. “Nay. Ye lock the door from the inside.”
She frowned at that odd command. “That dunnae make—”
“It dunnae matter if ye ken why I wish it, just do it or I kinnae leave ye.”
She quickly nodded, and without waiting, she scrambled into the room, shut the door, and slid the bar in place. “Make haste.”
“Dunnae open this door for anyone but me or Rory Mac,” Cameron said. “Nae matter who they say they are.”
“I dunnae ken—” She abruptly stopped speaking at the heavy, rapid thud of his steps moving down the passage.
She waited by the door for what seemed like forever in hopes that he would return and give her news of Graham, but after a while she got tired of standing there and went to sit on the bed. She spent the day restless, every noise sending her back to the door, but it was not until late that night when a knock came at the door that she awoke with a start and jerked upright in the chair where she had fallen asleep.
“Isobel,” Cameron called. “’Tis me.”
She rushed to the door and slid the bar back. Cameron stood there with a tray of food in his hands. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long.”
She waved a dismissing hand at his apology. “How is Graham?”
“A bit better, I believe. Marion says he feels cooler to the touch, and she thanks ye for yer advice.”
Isobel nodded, pleased to hear that Graham was faring better. “Do ye want to join me as I sup?” she asked Cameron, dreading being alone once again.
“I kinnae. I’m sorry. Iain was sore that I disobeyed him when he found out. He said if he walks by this door and dunnae find it closed and me alert and standing guard, he will personally punish me.”
“I understand,” she said, though in truth, she was not sure she did. Why could they not simply take her to the king so she would know her fate? Or even… “Might I see Marsaili?”
Cameron shook his head. “The lass is recovering,” he mumbled.
Isobel frowned. “Recovering from what? Our journey?”
A distinctly uneasy look crossed Cameron’s face. “Nay. She inhaled a great deal of smoke when the cottage Iain gave her caught fire last night.”
Isobel stilled. “How did her cottage catch fire?”
His concerned gaze bore into her. “Someone set it, Isobel. And we dunnae ken who. Iain told Lena of Marsaili’s parentage yesterday morning, and then made it known to the clan, and many, Lena included, dunnae wish for Marsaili to stay as she is half-Campbell.”
Isobel’s stomach twisted into knots. “Yer sister and yer clan members must really wish me gone, then.”
He did not say anything, but he did not have to. His sorrow-filled eyes said it all. She suddenly recalled Iain’s words that she was likely trouble and purveyor of complications, certainly. Had she been locked up then because they fearedfor her?
When she awoke the next morning, determination had settled in her bones. She did not want to cower in this bedchamber. It felt as though if she showed fear now, her life would be marked by her being dominated by others as it always had been. It was time for a change.
When Rory Mac opened the door and offered her a tray of food she shoved it back at him. “I am nae a coward. I wish to leave this room. I will take my chances with my enemies.”
A smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “No one believes ye to be a coward, Isobel. Iain is a wise laird. I’ve never known him to give an order without giving it thorough thought. Try to be patient.”
