The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,114
because she knows she’s safe. The lass has run herself ragged for years, then everything from the last few days would have done in a weaker woman. She’s with you, and she knows she no longer has to worry. She trusts you, Kyle.”
“Maybe, but I still wish for her to see a healer,” Kyle stated.
Keith frowned, but nodded. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe the healer could brew something to give her some strength back,” he suggested.
“That’s my hope.”
“Where do you wish to go ashore?” Keith asked, already certain of what Kyle would say.
“Dublin.”
“You want her to see a physician, not a healer. Do you really think it’s that serious?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I want her to see one. You know the Irish have even more myths about healing than the Hebrideans and Highlanders, but most of their clans have a physician with his own plot of land, free of rents. They are both scholars and healers. If something is wrong with Moira, then a physician is more likely to find it, more likely to make her well.”
Keith realized that Kyle’s desperation grew each day. They rarely went ashore in Dublin, preferring that their customers come to their ships anchored well beyond the harbormaster’s reach. The threat in Wicklow was infinitesimal compared to a town as large as Dublin. Keith also knew Kyle wouldn’t be dissuaded, and he secretly held his own fears for the woman he already considered his sister. He’d come aboard the Lady Charity three days earlier and seen Moira so deeply asleep he feared she was dead.
“I’ll find one,” Keith offered. Kyle nodded, relief washing over him.
“You risk much for her. For me.”
“If anything happens, you need to be the one with Moira,” Keith stated.
“Don’t tempt fate,” Kyle rushed to say.
“I’ll row ashore before dawn tomorrow. I should be able to rouse someone and have him to you before sunrise,” Keith promised.
“Thank you.” The brothers mouthed their customary “I love you.” It was no secret to any member of their crews, but every man turned a blind eye, never speaking against their captains. It might have been a moment of softness between the twins, but they would run any man through who attempted to mock them. Kyle returned to his cabin to find Moira sitting up in bed, the chamber pot in her lap as she leaned over it.
“Moira!” Kyle exclaimed as he rushed to the bedside just as Moira vomited.
“Shh,” Moira hissed. She whispered, “My head feels like I’ve had too much disgusting Scottish whisky.”
“Our whisky isn’t disgusting. If you’ve had a sore head, it’s because you’re used to that swill you Irish call whiskey.” Kyle teased Moira once he saw she was well enough to cast sarcasm at him. He lifted the chamber pot from her hands and laid it on the floor beside the bed, within reach in case Moira needed it. “What else feels poorly beside your head and your belly?”
“That’s it,” Moira confessed. “Is there water?”
Kyle fetched the waterskin from the table and helped Moira bring it to her lips. She sipped at it until she shook her head, fearful it would all come back up. Dark circles under Moira’s eyes signaled she wasn’t yet recovered from her exhaustion. Her new symptoms confirmed Kyle made the right decision to call for a physician. He slipped onto the bed alongside Moira, and she curled into his warmth.
“I don’t know why I’m so tired, Kyle,” Moira mumbled around a yawn. “I’ve never slept this much. I didn’t feel ill before, just sleepy. Now I feel both. I didn’t care for supper, but I was hungry. My belly didn’t care for it either. I cast up my accounts, and that made my head pound.”
“A physician is coming in the morning, sweet one,” Kyle assured her.
“No. That’s not necessary. That means you have to go into some town. I don’t want that,” Moira disagreed.
“Keith will go and be back before sunrise.”
“Mo grá —”
“No, Moira. Argue with me, and you will earn yourself a trip over my knee when you’re recovered. Something is wrong,” Kyle choked on the final words.
“I know. I’m scared,” Moira admitted.
“Leeches,” the physician announced. “She needs to remove the bad humors from her blood.”
Kyle stood at the foot of the bunk as the doctor examined Moira, but he couldn’t agree with the remedy. She was already weak. Kyle couldn’t imagine how she would survive such a treatment.
“She’s with child. She doesn’t need leeches. She needs fresh air and a hearty meal.”