Page 30 of Highlander's Captive Bride
“What has she had to eat and drink shortly before this episode?” Daisy quizzed Poppy when they were alone.
“Just what she usually has. She had coddled egg for her tea, with a little toasted bread. She wasnae sick after that, and I was pleased, thinking she might be on the mend. This came on just after she drank her bedtime milk and honey. She didnae even have a chance to finish it,” Poppy replied despondently, gesturing to the half-filled cup still on the nightstand.
“Pass it over here,” Daisy instructed, extending her hand.
Poppy obliged.
Daisy examined the remaining mixture, dipping a finger in and tasting it, but it tasted perfectly normal. She would take it back to the healing room and analyze it properly.
“Did ye make this yerself, Poppy?”
“Aye, as usual. I heated it over the fire. But it cannae be the milk, as she has the same thing every night, and she isnae sick like this every time.”
“I see.”
Daisy sighed inwardly with frustration. She was no closer to finding out why Elodie responded so badly to some things and not others, and at different times, too.
But I have to find out before I leave. I have to!
* * *
Fortunately, with more medicine and lots of rest, Elodie’s condition improved over the next day or so. On the morning of an unseasonably warm, sunny day, Daisy was watching over the young girl while Poppy was running some errands.
Elodie was sitting up in bed, Daisy was in Poppy’s chair, and the two were playing an enthusiastic game of pairs on the coverlet. It was one of the little girl’s favorite card games.
They paused their game and looked at the door when they heard it open. Daisy’s heart began to race when she saw it was the Laird. Perhaps it was the crooked smile he shot her, but she could not help thinking that he was looking especially handsome that morning in a dark blue velvet coat worn over his kilt, with black trews and riding boots.
Daisy had to smile at the way Elodie immediately forgot about their game and turned all of her attention to her father. He came up to the bed and grinned at her before settling next to her and kissing her forehead. Daisy stole a glance at him and thought she could see relief in his eyes as he looked at the child, no doubt even more pleased than her to see Elodie not in pain and looking better.
“Why, bonny lass,” he told his daughter in a cheerful tone, “ye dinnae ken how it gladdens me heart to see ye playing, and with some roses in yer cheeks.”
“Thank ye, Da. I do feel better, but that’s because Daisy looks after me so well. She gives me the magic medicine that helps me tummy,” Elodie explained, beaming back at him.
“She’s a grand one for the medicine, all right,” he agreed, flicking a glance at Daisy that had her clearing her throat and averting her eyes.
Withdrawing from the conversation, Daisy sat back and listened to the pair talking, stealing sidelong glances at Bellamy. Despite her general lingering resentment of the man, she could not help but feel a little pleased that he had clearly heeded her words concerning his daughter.
Though he had said nothing to her directly about it ever since their argument, he had been coming to visit Elodie several times a day, playing games and puzzles with her for an hour or two. And now, every evening, he would appear to read her a bedtime story.
At those times, Daisy often had to busy herself with mixing her concoctions, silently berating herself for being so amused by his antics. For she had to admit he read very well in his deep, baritone voice and gave all the characters different voices, to Elodie’s great delight.
Sometimes, she found it almost impossible to reconcile the blood-drenched, ruthless brute she knew he was with the man perched on the bed, who displayed such good-humored frivolity and gentle affection to his daughter.
At any rate, as Daisy had previously told him, all this attention from him was having a beneficial effect on Elodie’s mood and self-confidence. Clearly, Elodie finally felt she mattered to her father, which Daisy had correctly divined was of the greatest importance to her.
Daisy liked to think that, when Elodie was cured—which she resolved she would be, by hook or by crook—she had done something to ensure her future happiness.
“Da, when can I go outside again?” Elodie suddenly asked. “I looked out the window today, and it’s so lovely and sunny and warm, I should love to go and sit outside for a while. I havenae been out there for so long.”
“Well…” the Laird began, his sunny expression turning into a frown of concern.
“Please, Da. I promise to be good and wrap up warm. Please.”
Elodie gave her father a pleading look that Daisy thought would melt the hardest of hearts. But knowing how furiously he had reacted last time to her taking Elodie out, she was sure he would make some excuse to refuse the lass’s request.
So, she was taken aback when he suddenly grinned at the child and nodded his head. “Och, how can I resist those puppy dog eyes, eh? Yer wish is me command, young lady. Ye shall go outside if that’s what ye want,” he said, pinching Elodie’s cheek affectionately.
“Hoorah! Thank ye, Da!” Elodie exclaimed, throwing down the coverlet and flinging her arms around her father’s neck.
