What might they do that wouldn’t be too taxing? Of course, if she asked him, he’d insist on some activity requiring such an outlay of exertion, he’d collapse…However, if that happened, the guards would be able to carry him above stairs. She took a bite of egg. “The lilacs in the garden are in bloom.”

“Ah yes. They were planted by my mother, God rest her soul.”

“Then I’m certain it would please her to have ye enjoy them.”

“You’re right.”

Divana nearly dropped her fork. He’d agreed without so much as a single objection. Perhaps the knock on the head had done him some good. “I’m glad of it.” She sat a bit taller. “I think I like ye better when ye agree with me.”

His tongue slipped to the corner of his mouth, licking a morsel there. “Is that so?”

Her gaze slipped from his eyes to the tawny curls on his chest. Heavens, the man clearly had lost little strength in the past three days. How did he manage it? Always to look so braw no matter his state?

“There’s a clean shirt, hose, and kilt on the trunk. I’ll visit the privy whilst ye dress.” Lochiel had brought in a new doublet for Kennan as well, but she wasn’t going to suggest he try to put it on. Not when his shoulder looked like a gnarled patch of angry and swollen flesh. Goodness, he still had red marks where Mistress Ava had applied the leeches.

Divana made quick work of tending to her needs and, when she returned to Kennan’s bedchamber, he was dressed and seated at his writing table. His quill fluttered through the air with strokes of his pen.

“What are ye writing?”

“I need to dispatch a letter to Lachie Mor. Let him know I’m healing well and thank him for stepping up his effort—ensure he has enlisted all the men we need—skilled men of fine character.”

“I’m certain he’ll appreciate hearing from ye.”

“He’s a good hand.”

Divana looked longingly over his shoulder, wishing she’d learned to read. “Ye should be proud to have Lachie Mor do your bidding.”

“I am.” He rested the quill in the holder and sanded the parchment. “I’ll just seal this and then we can pay a visit to the garden.”

She didn’t know whether it was the food or the fact that she’d agreed with him, but choosing to let him set the pace for his recovery seemed like the right thing to do. Though once they’d started down the spiral stairs, she wondered if her judgment had been sound. Kennan’s face grew drawn and pained as he cradled his left arm.

Divana stopped at the first-floor landing. “Let me go fashion a sling.”

He scowled. “I do not need a bloody sling.”

“Very well then.” She gave him a squint. “Ye might try stepping up your pace. Ye’re lagging.”

“Bloody miserable taskmaster,” he mumbled from behind as she started off.

Grinning, she purposely pattered down the steps at a quick tack, then feigned amusement as he lumbered after her. But he didn’t complain, just gestured forward. “Lead on.”