Kennan fingered a wisp of her hair as he’d oft done. It was silky and feminine and felt like peace—smelled of serenity as well. Of course serenity wasn’t a fragrance, but her flowery scent was more than fragrant. It calmed the beast in his soul.

“Thank you for tending me.” He brushed a finger over her cheek and along the scarred flesh on her jaw. “The few times I woke, you were always here, were you not?”

She nodded, a tear slipping from her eye. “I would never leave your side and let ye die.”

“You’re an angel. Far too good a woman for the likes of me.” He grinned, making his lips crack. As he wiped away her tear, he ground his molars. “I’m too cantankerous to die—especially now. There’s far too much life remaining that must be lived.”

Her teeth flashed white with a smile as she wiped her eyes. “Now that is what I wanted to hear ye say.” She stood. “If ye promise to stay abed, I’ll fetch your missive from the table.”

Before Kennan answered, the door swung open. “Praise God and all the saints!” boomed Da as he strode inside. “I was afraid you’d never wake.”

“Ye ken no one can keep me abed for long.”

“Never could.”

Divana gave Kennan the letter—addressed to him but already opened.

Da leaned over the bed. “I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of reading Lachie Mor’s note.”

Kennan unfolded the parchment. “There are no secrets between us.”

Da patted Divana on the shoulder. “This lass hasn’t left your side. I reckon she ought to head for her chamber for a good night’s sleep.”

Kennan looked to the window and then to the mantel. Eight o’clock. Divana should go no matter how much he wished for her to stay.

“If ye wouldn’t mind, I’d like to make up a pallet in here,” she said. “Sir Kennan has only just opened his eyes, m’laird. I reckon ’tis still too soon to leave him alone.”

*  *  *

At the sound of creaking floorboards, Divana roused from a deep sleep and sprang from her pallet. “Ye should have awakened me!”

Wearing only a plaid tied around his hips, Kennan gave her a sidewise glance from the washstand. “Why? You were sleeping peacefully.”

“But ye might have fallen.”

“’Tisn’t my legs that are sore, lass.” He winced when he tried to pick up the ewer with his left hand, then switched to his right. “I’ve been downtrodden enough times to ken the only way for a man to regain his strength is if he pushes himself.”

She supposed he was right. After all, he’d pushed himself a great deal on Hyskeir. Most likely, she’d do the same. “What can I do to help?”

“I’m starved.”

“Good.”

“Hmm?” he asked, splashing his face with water.

“Last eve I ordered—”