“The only thing that hit you was the brandy in the bottom of a bottle.”

She sounded angry. He opened his eyes again, but had to close them right away. “The room is spinning.”

“Put your foot on the floor.”

“What?”

Two capable hands picked up his foot and plopped it on the floor. After a moment things settled a bit and he was able to say, “That worked.”

“So will this,” she said. “Sit up and drink it.”

It took every ounce of effort that he possessed, but he lifted himself on his elbow and realized he was on a settee in a small room, most likely at Kat’s cottage. His head felt swollen to twice its normal size, and his body ached everywhere that didn’t feel ill.

Kat’s face swam before his eyes, and for a second he forgot his woes and said the first words that came to mind. “I love you.”

She had just picked up a glass holding some murky-colored stuff, but she paused, her clear eyes meeting his not-so-clear ones. “What did you say?”

What had he said? He blinked, trying to remember. Then his brow cleared. “I said I love you.” Damn, but his memory was good, even when drunk.

“I see. Here.” She placed the glass in his hand.

He was suddenly thirsty, so he took what she offered and brought it to his mouth. But before the rim could touch his parched lips, the scent assailed his nostrils, and he smiled. “This smells like a lemon tart.”

“It’s a tonic and it tastes horrid, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Horrid?”

“Horrid.”

He put the glass down, though it took him some time to make it land on the floating table. “Don’t want horrid tonics. Not today, anyway. Maybe tomorrow when I’m more the thing and horrid tonics won’t make me want to vo—”

The glass was rudely thrust back into his hand. “Now.” Irritation colored Kat’s voice. “I haven’t all day, Sassenach. Drink your tonic or get on your horse and go back to Kilkairn now.”

The thought of riding a horse made his stomach queasy again. He waved a hand. “No horses.”

“Then drink the tonic.”

Devon held out his hand, and the glass was once again placed in his grip. He peered up at her through his lashes. “You sound angry.”

“Imagine that,” she said, waiting for him to finish the horrid beverage. Finally, after much hacking and wheezing, he managed to choke down most of it.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Bloody hell, what’s in that? Horse urine?”

She took the nearly empty glass. “No, but only because I didn’t have the time to collect any.”

He blinked, and she could see that her wit was wasted. Sighing, she pulled the covers back to his chin. “Go to sleep.”