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She sat up, immediately wincing as her body groaned in protest. Bright light streamed from the right side of the room, and she had to squint to see large and expansive windows, bracketed by heavy, golden drapes. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the light, she could see rolling hills and lush greenery outside, stretching out as far as the eye could see.

“Yer awake,” a soft, female voice sounded from the left.

Helen slowly turned her head, surveying her surroundings as she did so. The room was furnished with the most exquisite pieces of furniture, all seeming to be of old, polished wood, carved with intricate designs that Helen could not begin to fathom. A plush velvet settee sat near the window, its deep red color offsetting the dark wood of the floorboards, while a small writing desk with a leather blotter sat against the opposite wall.

Several portraits hung on the walls, all painted in an elegant, lifelike style. Helen couldn’t make out the depictions of all the paintings, as they were quite far from her position on the bed, but she definitely wanted to explore more. Only one painting stood close enough for her to notice the subject: a ginger-haired girl with a dog by her side.

When Helen finally turned toward a lady sitting beside her, she was met with a cup of tea extended toward her.

“Here,” the lady said with a soft smile. “Ian said ye’d want a drink when ye woke up.”

Ian? Where was he?

Helen gratefully took the cup and drank a few sips, reveling in the feel of warm liquid passing through her scratchy, dry throat.

“Thank you,” she said and handed the cup back. The woman took it with a smile and placed it on the bedside table, which also held a vase with gardenias. Ah, so that’s where the scent of flowers came from.

The lady turned back to Helen and smiled.

She had stunning ginger hair that was a sight to behold, with soft, luscious curls falling out of her coiffure in an enchanting and carefree manner. Her hair was a radiant mix of deep auburn and fiery red hues, and it seemed to shimmer in the light as she moved.

Her delicate, yet slightly defined cheekbones and nose were dotted with a smattering of freckles that added a touch of whimsy to her already beguiling features. She turned toward Helen with an ever-present smile on her lips.

“I hope yer feelin’ better,” she said with a prominent Scottish accent. “Ian was so worried that he hadnae left yer side for two days.”

“Two days?” Helen was completely bewildered. Where was she? And what had happened during those two days?

“He barely slept, the poor soul. But he wisnae gonnae leave his wife all alone.”

Helen’s reared back in surprise. “Wife?” Ian was married?

“I’m sure ye want tae see yer husband. But we had to drag him awa’ because he was so tired an’ miserable.”

“Husband?” Helen whispered, only able to repeat the beautiful lady’s words from shock. Now her mind was in complete disarray.

The woman before her didn’t seem to realize Helen’s speechlessness and utter befuddlement as she continued talking merrily. “But ye were feeling better. The salve was helpin’ wi’ yer skin, yer fever was gone, so we thought it was time fer Ian to get some rest as well.”

Helen’s gaze fell to her hands. Her skin wasn’t angry red anymore, the rash was easing, and the salve, whatever it was, was soothing her skin.

“We got the best healer in these parts,” the lady continued, unaware of Helen’s inner turmoil. “She said fer ye tae come tae her when ye felt better. Ian said you fall sick often, an’ she can help you, I am sure.”

Helen stifled a grimace. She’d seen an unconscionable amount of healers and doctors and none thus far were able to help her. The few recent ones even made it worse.

She was reluctant to see another one. And she felt too tired to smile when yet another person suggested a new healer for her to see, or a new treatment that was ‘definitely going to cure her.’

She had lost all hope. And that was the main reason why she’d even gotten involved with Ian.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely, then cleared her throat. “For helping me, and looking after me, Lady…?” She trailed away hoping the woman would finally supply her name.

“Oh!” The lady laughed a joyful sound and covered her mouth with her hand. “How rude o’ me. I am Lady Anna McAllistair. Ian’s sister.”

Helen’s eyes widened in surprise. Ian had a sister? What else did he not tell her?

She looked away, feeling quite foolish. He did not tell her quite a few things—important things. Wasn’t that the reason for her predicament?

“But ye can call me Anna,” she added with an ever-present smile on her face. “After all, yer family now.”

Helen flinched. “Can I see Ian?”