Page 81 of The Commoner Who Stole Her Heart

“Bah, lad. The sidhe gae where they gae. They ken nae boondries, lad.”

“Perhaps not.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Ye should’nae be here, Liam. Ye well nigh get sick.”

“Nothing will stop me from seeing you, Mum. Do not waste your breath scolding me, for I will not leave your side.”

“Did the laird gie ye his blessin’?”

“His permission, yes.” He took her hand in his. “Now you need to cease your worry and get better. I am going to find you some water and cool your fever.”

“There be a basin there, oan the table. A pitcher be there.”

Liam let go of her hand and rose, smiling down at her. “Do not run off on me now. I will be right back.”

He found fresh water in the pitcher and poured it into a cup, then added to the water in the basin. Tossing a cloth over his shoulder, he took both back to Mary, who had pushed the pillows back and now sat up. Giving her the cup, he waited until she drank it down before taking it from her. Wetting the cloth, he bathed her brow and cheeks.

“I nae be a babe, lad,” she said, her hand clasping his wrist.

“I seem to recall having a fever when I was a boy,” Liam replied, trying not to show his worry in his expression. “You cared for me. Now it is my turn to care for you.”

“Ye should be lookin’ after Miss Miller. She needs ye, lad.”

“Miss Miller can decide for herself what she needs.”

Startled, Liam half turned, finding Thea framed in the doorway, her left arm in its sling. “Thea – Miss Miller. You should not be here. You might catch whatever this is.”

Thea tossed his dropped wig on the bedpost. “My brother said much the same thing,” she replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But I want to help, and if you are willing to risk being here, then so shall I. What can I do?”

Liam turned to his mother. “Think you can hold down warm broth, Mum?”

“I wi’ try.”

Thea nodded and stood up. “I will send for pots of beef broth brought up for everyone.”

“Thank you.”

Thea vanished into the other room. Liam caught his mother’s eye as he bathed her in the cool water, feeling the heat of her fever even through the damp cloth. “Mr. Noonan will find out what this is, Mum,” he murmured, wondering if he reassured her or himself.

Mary dipped her chin in an almost imperceptible nod. “She loves ye, lad,” she whispered. “I dae see it in her eyes.”

“We love each other, Mum.”

“Aye. But dae it mean trouble fer ye wi’ the laird?”

Liam gazed at her, feeling helpless and angry. “I do not know. It might.”

“She be boond tae marry ‘o her rank, Liam. Ye cannae hae a future wi’ her.”

“Perhaps not. Nor can I help how I feel. Or how she feels toward me.”

“I jist worry aboot ye, son.”

Liam tried a grin, which felt weak, even to him. “How about you let me do the worrying for once?”

Thea returned to the room. “Liam, you are needed in there. The maid helping the sick cannot lift one of the footmen. I will care for Mary.”

Liam stood up, offering his mother a quick wink. “I will be back shortly.”