Chapter 23

When Billie woke up the next morning and rolled over in bed to say good morning to Domnhall, she found that all that came out of her lips was a faint whisper. Upon hearing it, Domnhall sat up in alarm, but Billie waved him back down with a dismissive hand. She knew what this was.

Staying in the rain for so long had been entirely reckless, and now she was paying the price.

At least Domnhall seemed to be well, unaffected by the illness that had befallen Billie. She was certain she had a slight fever, too, chills running down her body even as she bundled herself up in the bedsheets.

At least she could still talk enough for everyone else to hear her if they stood close. It would have been tedious, spending a few days unable to communicate through anything but written word. Still, it was far from ideal.

“My poor heart,” Domnhall said, leaning closer to gather Billie in his arms and press a kiss to her forehead. “Ach, ye’re warm, too.”

“I’ll be fine,” Billie assured him. “I will have some tea an’ some rest, an’ I’ll recover quickly.”

At least she hoped so. The last thing she needed was an illness she couldn’t shake. She had things to do that day and every day that followed, and she refused to postpone them.

When Domnhall rolled out of bed, he dressed and gave her one more kiss. “Ye should rest today.”

Billie was already on her way up, though, swinging her legs over the side of the mattress. “I cannae,” she whispered. “There is somethin’ I must dae.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Domnhall gave her a strict look. “What could be more important than rest now?”

Billie smiled, small and secretive. “I cannae tell ye. I must go. I shall see ye at noon.”

She dressed quickly, ignoring Domnhall’s questions in the process. The moment she was done, she stole one final kiss from him and left the room, heading straight to the kitchens. It was a little late in the morning, the sun already up in a bright blue, clear sky, and Billie wished she had woken up sooner so that she wouldn’t be in the way once more. When she got to the kitchens, though, Mrs. Campbell was already waiting for her and the servants left the corner of the room empty for the two of them.

When Mrs. Campbell saw her, she grabbed a bowl and passed it to her. “Good mornin’, me lady,” she said. “I feared ye wouldnae come.”

“Forgive me, Mrs. Campbell,” said Billie in her quiet, strained voice. “I seem tae have fallen ill an’ I slept too long.”

Instantly, Mrs. Campbell’s demeanor changed, her face molding into a mask of concern. “What are ye doin’ in the kitchens, me lady? Ye should be restin’!”

“I’ll be fine,” Billie assured her. “It’s only because I stood in the rain yesterday. I only need some tea.”

“Caitriona!” Mrs. Campbell yelled in her booming voice, looking over her shoulder to find the maid. “A tea fer Lady MacAuley right the now.”

Billie could only roll her eyes fondly at the woman, but she didn’t dare refuse the tea. Mrs. Campbell would make her drink cup after cup until she felt better.

When she turned back to Billie, she spoke gently for the first time. “Well… shall we begin?”

Domnhall sat in his study, gazing at the chair by the window. There were many things that needed his attention: plans, letters, the campaign for men and gold, and yet his gaze kept straying to that chair, his thoughts returning to Billie spread out over it like a feast for him.

It had been a mistake to take her in his study. Now it was all he would be able to think about every time he looked at that chair.

Desire welled up inside him once more at the mere thought of Billie writhing under him. It was only he who could bring her to that ecstasy, only he who got the chance to touch her like that, to see her come undone. Domnhall thought he would never tire of it, of their couplings, of hearing her moan his name as she pulsed around him, hot and tight and?—

“What’s the matter with you?”

The voice made Domnhall jump as he was forcefully pulled from his fantasies. He turned to see Hugo by the door, frowning in confusion at him as he stepped inside with a slight limp, leaning over the desk to get a better look at Domnhall. With a roll of his eyes, Domnhall pushed him away, sulking in his chair.

“Naething,” he said.

“Why are you so red?” Hugo asked, ignoring the push to lean in close once more. “Are you ill?”

“I’m fine, Hugo,” said Domnhall with a weary sigh, gesturing to the empty chair by his desk. “It’s naething.”

Hugo didn’t seem entirely convinced by that, but he took a seat anyway, giving up his scrutiny. “How is Billie? I heard she was devastated to see her family leave.”

Injured as he had been, Hugo hadn’t been there to see the Robertsons off, though he had made sure to say goodbye earlier before they had left. He hadn’t seen just how saddened Billie had become by their departure, how long it had taken Domnhall to convince her to come back inside.

“She didnae take it very well,” Domnhall said. “An’ now she has fallen ill an’ she willnae listen tae me when I tell her tae stay in bed. She says there is somethin’ she must dae.”

“Must be important,” said Hugo with a small shrug. “I kept seein’ her around the castle, goin’ tae the kitchens, talkin’ tae Cameron?—”

“Cameron,” said Domnhall, unimpressed. “She was talkin’ tae Cameron?”

Was that the important thing she had to do? Had Domnhall been too quick to think that he was the only one who could have her, who could bring her that kind of pleasure? As much as she had promised him he was the only man with whom she had slept, it was difficult to believe it when the evidence spoke of other things. How could he trust her when she was running off without telling him where she was going, insisting she couldn’t tell him what she had to do, only to then find out she was with Cameron?

“This is becoming a problem, Domnhall,” Hugo said with a heavy sigh. It was strange to see him so serious all of a sudden, all his usual cheer gone from his features and replaced by a thinly veiled concern. “Why are you so jealous of Cameron? He hasn’t done anything to deserve it.”

Domnhall would beg to differ. He had seen the intimate conversations between Cameron and Billie. He had seen the tender smiles and the touches exchanged between the two of them, and it was all the proof he needed. He knew what he had seen. He was no fool.

“How can ye nae see it?” Domnhall asked. He gripped onto the edge of his desk and leaned over it, his lips curling into a snarl. “I can see what he is doin’.”

“You see what you want to see,” Hugo said calmly. “Because you are paranoid.”

With an indignant huff, Domnhall let go of his desk and sank back into his chair, sulking once more. He didn’t want to listen to Hugo. Listening to him meant that he would be ignoring the glaring signs, that he would be letting Billie and Cameron do whatever they pleased in his own castle. It was an indecency, a humiliation he wouldn’t suffer.

Cameron was a handsome man, after all, but it wasn’t just his features; he was young, too, much closer to Billie’s age than Domnhall. Why wouldn’t Billie want him?

“I will discover the truth,” Domnhall said with fierce determination. “I dinnae care how long it takes or what I must dae. I will show ye I’m right.”

Hugo said nothing. He only gave Domnhall a concerned look he didn’t want to acknowledge.

By the time Billie made it back to her old chambers, it was already almost noon. Just as she had instructed the maids, there was a bath waiting for her there, the water still hot to the touch when she dipped her fingers in it.

She didn’t want Domnhall to smell all the herbs from his favorite food on her when they would meet, as that could ruin the surprise she had for him. Mrs. Campbell had shown her how to prepare his favorite dish step by step, and she had even arranged it so that the kitchens would be empty that night, just for her to cook and Domnhall to enjoy his meal with her.

Before she could even begin to undress, there was a knock on the door and Billie opened it to find Cameron there, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Cameron,” she said, surprised to see him there. “What is it?”

Cameron seemed to have a permanent stutter when he wanted to ask for something, and this time was no different. “I… I was wonderin’ if ye could help me.”

“Is somethin’ wrong?” asked Billie, trying to clear her throat in vain when she heard how quiet her voice was.

“Nay,” said Cameron, laughing awkwardly before he composed himself once more. “But I wish tae write a letter tae Abigail. Would ye… would ye send it fer me? I would send it meself but what if someone reads it? What if someone finds out?”

Billie sighed softly, giving Cameron an understanding smile. The poor boy was well under Abigail’s spell, and Billie didn’t have the heart to tell him no.

“I shall write a letter an’ send them together,” she promised him. “When is the messenger leavin’?”

“Soon,” said Cameron. “He is already preparin’.”

“An’ ye wish tae send it today?”

“I would like that, aye.”

It meant Billie would have to write a letter right away, but she didn’t want the bath the maids had prepared for her to go to waste. Cameron looked at her with such hope, though, that she could hardly refuse.

“I’ll write it,” she promised. “Go an’ tell the messenger tae wait. I will bathe quickly and then send fer a servant tae take the letters once I have finished mine. Give me the one ye wrote.”

Cameron reached in his pocket, pulling out a lovingly folded letter. Though Billie didn’t open it, she could see the traces of careful letters on the paper, showing just how much care Cameron had put into it.

“Thank ye, me lady,” said Cameron, bowing deeply to her. “I cannae thank ye enough.”

“Ye dinnae have tae thank me,” Billie assured him. “Go now. Dae as I told ye.”

With a last nod, Cameron was gone, rushing through the corridors of the castle.

Billie would be late for her meeting with Domnhall. She had promised him she would see him at noon. She put the letter on the table and hurried to undress and get into the bath.