Highland Wolf (Highland Brides #10)(72)
Midmorning again, Claray thought when she saw the position of the sun. She’d slept late and that irritated her. All she’d seemed to do since waking three days ago was sleep. She’d wake up, Conall would feed her and then they’d talk for a bit, or play a game, and then at the first sign of a yawn, or drooping eyelids, Conall would be urging her to sleep again. She hadn’t even been out of her bed in all that time until last night, when she’d insisted she wanted to get up and Conall had carried her to the table and set her in a chair for their shared sup. They’d played Nine Men’s Morris afterward and talked, and she’d managed to stay awake for longer than the usual hour or so she’d managed each time before that. Claray wasn’t sure how much longer, but guessed by the number of rushlights they’d gone through that it had probably been close to three hours. A sure sign she was healing well, even if she’d slept long afterward.
Another sign that she was healing was that she was sick unto death of being stuck in this room. And she was definitely done with lying about in bed, Claray thought grimly, and pushed the bed linens and furs aside to sit up. She managed the move with little effort. Sitting up in the bed was something she’d done several times a day since waking, and while the first few times had left her shaky and a little breathless with effort, she suspected it was as much from the pain it had caused her wounded shoulder as the weakness the fevers had left her with. This time she felt little more than a twinge from her wound at raising herself to a sitting position, and there was no trembling or weakness at all.
Buoyed by that, Claray slid her feet to the floor, grasped the bedpost and eased to her feet. It took more effort than it would have before taking the arrow in the shoulder, but she managed it. She then simply stood there, grasping the bedpost as she waited for her heart rate to slow, and her legs to stop trembling.
As she waited, Claray glanced around the chamber, trying to plan her moves to use the least amount of effort necessary to dress and leave the room. Weak as she was, she knew the task she’d set herself would be a challenge. But it was one she planned to succeed at. She would get out of this room today. There was too much to do at Deagh Fhortan for her to be a lie-abed. Besides, she was sick of staring at the same four walls. Although she hadn’t minded so much when Conall was there with her.
Claray smiled at the thought of her husband. He’d been at her side almost every moment she’d been awake since her injury, feeding her, helping her with her ablutions, playing games and talking. It was the conversations they’d had that she’d enjoyed the most. Especially when he spoke about his hopes for the future of Deagh Fhortan. He was determined to return it to the happy, prosperous castle it had been before his parents’ death. From what he had said, his parents had cared greatly for their people, making sure they were clothed, well-fed and happy, and he wanted to do that too.
A smile had curved Claray’s lips as she’d listened to his plans. She’d liked that he cared about his people, that he wanted to do right by them. Her parents had been the same, but she knew many supposedly fine lairds and ladies who abused their people, meting out unfair or overharsh punishments, leaving them dressed in little more than rags and, more often than not, with empty bellies. That was no way to treat family, and that’s what clan members were, whether by birth or marriage. Sometimes they were family several times removed, but they were still family and deserved their laird and lady’s care and concern.
Once the first wave of weakness passed, getting about was not so bad. Being cautious though, Claray was quick about her ablutions, and tried to conserve as much of her energy as she could while brushing her hair and dressing. She bent over as little as possible and stopped to rest when needed.
Still, Claray was quite exhausted by the time she had finished and almost changed her mind and climbed back into bed. But that seemed a great waste after all her efforts. Besides, she really did want to go below and check on what progress had been made since she’d been wounded.
Conall had told her that his aunt Annabel had taken control of things in her absence, at least since she’d regained consciousness and no longer needed constant attention. Apparently, Lady MacKay had gone down the next morning and organized the women into groups, keeping half with her, and assigning half to Kenna. She’d wanted to whitewash the walls before arranging the furniture and goods they’d received, but that task would have to wait until they had the lime to do it. In the meantime, they’d set up the kitchens, and then arranged what furniture they had in the great hall, before heading out to clean the bakehouse even as the men were building a new roof on it.
During that time, Kenna’s ladies had finished preparing the cellars for the beer, mead and wine they hoped would soon arrive, and then had headed outside to continue Claray’s efforts in the gardens.
Her husband had assured her that the two women were in bedchambers and no longer sleeping on the keep floor. Conall had also told her that he’d assigned men to make furniture and they’d made beds for the mattresses that had arrived in the wagons, as well as trestle tables and benches and such for the great hall. He’d said they weren’t fancy, but would do until the few carpenters they had amongst the clan could create more elaborate furniture.
Claray had been pleasantly surprised to learn that three of the MacDonald men who had worked as mercenaries for her husband had actually been trained as carpenters before he’d taken them on. He’d also told her he had other skilled men in his ranks such as stonemasons and blacksmiths, etc., and that their skills had actually saved time and coin in the repairs because they had been able to start the jobs right away rather than wait to find and hire outsiders in the trades. Their skills would continue to be valuable in future too.