Her presence alone made him want to leap from the bed and declare himself healed. But he couldn't yet. Still, he felt far better than he had yesterday and his thigh didn't pain him as much.
He wished he could stroke his fingers over Jessie's face and her lovely auburn brows, but he would likely wake her.
The door rattled, as if someone had tried to open it. Then, a knock sounded.
Jessie startled awake, glancing at him and blinking as if confused. A second later, she leapt from the bed, unbarred the door, and opened it.
Flora waited outside. "Is everything all right, m'lady?"
"Aye. I simply didn't want anyone coming in while I was asleep."
"Oh. I see." Flora's gaze flew to Torrin. "And how are you this morn, m'laird?"
"Fine as a fiddle."
"Glad I am to know that!"
Jessie watched Flora, preparing Torrin's herbal tea and a fresh poultice for his leg. She broke out into a cold sweat and, minute by minute, she felt more and more nauseous. She could not tolerate the scent of the herbs. What on earth? She slipped out into the corridor, then dashed to the garderobe. Thankfully, it was empty. She retched, though she had little on her stomach at this early hour. A couple of minutes later, she felt better.
She then remembered how sick Isobel was every morning.
"Saints!" she whispered. Am I with child?
Chapter Eighteen
Moisture filled Jessie's eyes, and she burst into happy and hopeful tears. As she cried, she prayed the nausea truly meant she was with child.
"M'lady is something wrong?" Flora asked from the other side of the curtain.
Wiping her tears, Jessie pushed the curtain aside. "I'm sick," she whispered with a mad chuckle.
Flora's eyes rounded, her concern obvious. "Sick, m'lady?"
"Aye," Jessie whispered. "Do you think you could tell if I'm with child?"
Flora's eyes grew even wider as she searched her face. "Is it the morning sickness you've got, then?"
"I think so. You must keep it a secret until we know for certain," Jessie said. "Promise me."
"I promise."
For the next three mornings, Jessie awoke nauseous. And although she was miserable, she was thrilled. She was fortunate to be able to rush to the garderobe each time.
On the fourth morning, she went to the chamber Torrin had told the maids to clean for her, so that she might nap there when she wasn't watching after him. She washed her face and rinsed her mouth, then took a sponge bath and changed clothes.
Her stomach felt much more settled now. She uncovered the bannocks Flora had left for her the night before and ate one. Flora had assured her that she was with child. She could hardly eat for smiling, happy tears filling her eyes. She needed to tell Torrin.
Minutes later, Jessie entered Torrin's room and found him propped against the pillows while he ate porridge.
"The maid brought you a bowl of porridge, too, m'lady," Flora said, giving her a smile.
"Good. I'm hungry."
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Flora said, then left the room.
"You're bright-eyed this morn," Jessie told Torrin.
"I'm looking at you."
She smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, watching him eat.
"Are you not going to eat?"
"Aye, but I wanted to tell you something first."
He eyed her suspiciously and lowered his bowl. "What is it?"
"I've been sick several mornings this week."
He frowned. "Sick?"
She nodded, smiling.
"Why? Are you well now? I've noticed you hurry out of the room each morn when you awake, but I thought you merely needed to… relieve yourself."
"Getting sick in the morn is a sign that… I am with child," she said, tears filling her eyes.
"What!" He almost dropped the bowl of porridge.
She took it from him and set it on the bedside table.
"With child?" he asked, raising his voice, his eyes wide.
"Shh. We don't want everyone to know yet," she whispered.
"You're with child?" he demanded, though in a quieter tone, a smile spreading across his face.
"Flora says 'tis likely. I've had the morning sickness for four mornings. Isobel has this ailment also."
"Saints, Jessie!" Torrin pulled her close and kissed her lips. 'Twas a quick but fierce kiss. His gaze searched hers for several seconds, his excitement as obvious as hers. "I cannot arise from this bed as of yet, nor get down on one knee. But, Lady Jessie, will you marry me?"
"Aye." She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close, and he did the same, near squeezing the breath from her. She found herself laughing and crying at the same time.
He pulled back and brushed her tears away with his thumb. "Shh," he hissed but she detected a hint of moisture in his own eyes. "I love you," he whispered, then kissed her.
"And I love you," she said.
"Let's get married today." His eyes were alight with more eagerness than she'd ever seen.
She frowned. "Today! Are you mad?"
"Aye, why not? I believe I can stand." Moving his injured leg a bit, he grimaced.
"I don't want you to overdo it."
"I won't. But a man must stand for his own wedding."
"Nay. You do not have to. The minister can come in here."
He shook his head, looking disappointed. "That won't do at all. I'm the chief. The whole clan will want to witness our wedding."
"We'll wait until you're a bit better, then," she said, trying to calm him.
His eyes lit up again. "Tomorrow."
"Are you certain 'tis not still too soon? You must not injure yourself further."
"Nay. For you, Jessie, I could climb that mountain to the north of the castle. Let me get up."
"'Tis too soon, Torrin. In truth. You might start falling and I wouldn't be able to hold you up."
"I'll hold onto the bed."
She stood two feet from the bed, while he threw back the blankets. Today he wore a long-tailed shirt that came to mid-thigh and naught else. He slowly moved his injured leg. When it slid over the edge, he winced and clamped his teeth together. His knee bent and he growled, his face going white.
"Torrin, I told you, 'tis too soon!" Jessie said, grabbing onto his arm.
Flora rushed in the door. "What on earth are you doing, m'laird?"
"Getting married," he said through clenched teeth.
Flora gave Jessie a wide-eyed quizzical look, and Jessie's face felt scalded.
"I told him," Jessie said. "And this is what I get… Torrin trying to kill himself."
"Och! I'm not trying to kill myself. You said yourself my wound is looking better this morn," he told Flora. "The swelling is going down."
"Aye, but…"
"Nay. I intend to stand while I marry Lady Jessie." He lowered his healthy leg to the floor and pushed himself up. Holding onto the bed, he stood for a moment, getting his bearings, then he took a step, a loud growl of pain issuing forth.
Jessie draped his arm around her shoulder so she might act as a sort of crutch for him. He made it to the end of the bed and grasped onto the tall, carved post, but he wasn't done there. He rounded the foot of the bed and limped along to the other post.