Kilgannon by Kathleen Givens Page B

cabin was a desk and a chair, charts rolled on the desk.
    On the far side of the cabin, in the middle of the berth, Alex was asleep, on his back, his chest and shoulders naked, the bedcovers at mid-chest. Behind me Rebecca gasped, but I looked only at Alex. He was indeed ill. His skin was gray and the smell of sickness permeated the cabin. I knelt beside him and felt his forehead. It was much too warm. I felt slightly dizzy as I smoothed the hair back from his face. The beginnings of a beard were on his sunken cheeks., his breathing was shallow and his skin clammy. "How long has he been like this?" I asked Angus as he came to my side.
    "Three days," he said. "Most of the time he sleeps, but when he wakes he vomits. Lass, ye must go now."
    "Have you called a doctor?"
    "No. He'll be a’ right in a day or so."
    I pulled the cover to Alex's shoulders and he stirred under my touch, opening his eyes one at a time. He looked at me and closed his eyes again, then reopened them. "Mary?" he asked, his voice weak. He struggled to sit up, the bedclothes sliding to his waist, exposing a golden-haired chest and a taut stomach. I rose and stood next to the berth, my knees suddenly weak. Even as ill as he was, he was extraordinary. Alex looked behind me. "What the devil?. ..." He sounded very tired.
    "I couldna stop her, Alex," said Angus over my shoulder. "She's a headstrong lass with no common sense at all." He added something in Gaelic. Alex looked from Angus to me, frowning.
    "I came to see if I could help," I said.
    Alex sighed. "I'll live, lass, but ye should not be here." "You need a doctor."
    He shook his head slowly. "No, no. I'll be fine as soon as I can stop quoting Latin." He pulled the bedclothes tighter around his waist and looked at all of us. "A very strange group to waken to, I'm thinking," he said, rubbing his hand across his forehead. "Angus, will ye find my shirt, please?" Angus moved to my right and handed Alex the shirt off the shelf next to me. Alex struggled into it as we all watched him.
    "Alex," I said, "you're feverish. You've been sick for days and now you're making no sense."
    "Mary," he said, with a ghost of his normal tone, "I just awoke and we're having a party. I think I'm making fine sense."
    "Quoting Latin?"
    His mouth twitched and he waved at Angus and Malcolm. "Well, lass, ye ken what Julius Caesar said when he dinna like a place?"
    "I have no idea," I said briskly. "Alex—"
    The three men chanted in one voice. Vene vici vomiti."
    Malcolm and Angus laughed and Alex smiled while Becca and I exchanged looks of wonder. I shook my head at them and leaned over Alex, opening the window above the berth. "Very clever. We're getting a doctor. Perhaps for all of you. Becca," I said, turning, "send your man for Dr. Sutter. He's the only one I can think of who will come here." I looked at Alex's brother. "Malcolm, go with him to bring the doctor back."
    "Aye, Yer Majesty," Malcolm said, but followed as Rebecca scurried out of the cabin.
    Alex watched me through narrowed eyes, then rubbed his forehead again with a slow movement. "Mary, ye smell like roses. But what are ye doing here? Angus, what is she doing here?"
    I spoke first. "I came to see if you were ill."
    "Do I look ill to ye?"
    "Yes, you do. What happened?"
    "I have no idea," he said. "Ate something bad or. ..." He shrugged. Behind me Angus had made a sharp movement as Alex spoke. Alex, visibly weary, closed his eyes again. I glanced at Angus, his expression grim. Something was not right here. I wasn't being told everything and was very glad we had a doctor coming. Becca returned after a few moments, saying that Malcolm had gone for Dr. Sutter. I thanked her and smiled, then moved Alex's clothes and sat on the shelf next to the bed while Angus hovered behind me, clearly unhappy. Alex opened his eyes and looked at me. "Mary, lass, ye must go. Yer reputation will truly be compromised if this is discovered." "Hush, Alex," I said. "I'll go when I know you're