The Firebrand by May McGoldrick

longer, but I’ve never seen anyone who could sleep so long.”
    “How long, Gillie?”
    “A night, a day, and a whole night again, mistress.” The boy’s face brightened. “And you look very well this morning. Not green the way you were when I was fetched out of the water and brought in here by the master.”
    “You look very well, too, Gillie. All dried out?”
    The boy suddenly flushed. Scurrying away, the lad popped back a moment later with his wool tam, as usual, covering much of the scarred half of his face.
    “You don’t have to wear that around me, Gillie.”
    “I do, mistress. I always have to.”
    Adrianne shook her head in disagreement. “I think you are the most handsome of lads--just as you are.”
    Gillie’s visible cheek turned a darker shade of red as he scrambled to his feet. Crossing the ship’s cabin, he poured her a cup of water from a pitcher.
    Her mouth was dry as dust...and tasted about as badly. She smiled at him appreciatively as she raised herself on her elbows. It was then that she noticed the change in her apparel.
    Gone was her wet dress of two days ago. Her torn blouse. She was now wearing only a man’s shirt. A rather large man’s shirt. She peered quickly under the blankets and stared with dismay at her bare legs.
    “You would have caught your death, for sure, if he’d not got you out of those wet clothes.”
    Adrianne did her best to keep the note of panic out of her voice.
    “He?” she managed to croak.
    “Aye. The master...Sir Wyntoun.” The boy crouched beside the bed, his spindly legs hidden beneath his ragged kilt of red, black, and green plaid. “I was right here, though, mistress. The master did nothing...well, you know...he was right quick about it.”
    She pushed a shock of hair out of her face and spotted her clothes spread on the single chair by the worktable. A strange heat prickled in her belly, working its way outward, and she gnawed at her lip. Well, she couldn’t change what was past.
    “You must be thirsty, mistress.” Gillie held the cup out to her.
    Adrianne forced herself to focus on the boy, and reached for the cup. “This will not make me sleep more, will it?”
    “Nay!” he replied, watching her drink. “Auld Coll said you’ve had enough sleeping to last you a fortnight.”
    “And who is Auld Coll?”
    “He is one of the sailors, mistress. The one who found me hiding in a barrel.”
    “And one of the men who threw you overboard?” She sat up in the small bunk and gathered the blankets tightly around her bare legs.
    “Nay, not him.” Gillie shook his head. “He says he has been sailing the seas too long to be believing in fairy nonsense. He says luck is one thing, and curses is another. He had nothing to do with them when they tied me to a line and threw me to the fish. In fact, Auld Coll was a help to the master when he pulled me out.”
    “I’m sorry that happened, Gillie.” She touched him gently on the side of his face. “Were you frightened?”
    “Nay, mistress...well, a wee bit.” An impish smile tugged at his lips.
    “I believe I like Auld Master Coll.” Adrianne swung her feet to the floor, bringing the blankets with her. A flash of lightheadedness swept through her, and she waited a moment. “The ship’s not moving.”
    “We’re anchored in the Bay of Mull, mistress. If you look out that wee window there, you’ll see we’re but a stone’s throw from Duart Castle.”
    “A speedy journey,” Adrianne whispered, watching with amusement as Gillie moved across the cabin and returned with a trencher on which someone had placed a bannock cake and some salted fish. Putting it on the bed next to her, he then shook out a tartan shawl that lay folded at the foot of the bunk and put it around her shoulders.
    “Auld Coll came in a while back and said I should be letting him know as soon as you’re up and about. The sailors are running boats back and forth from the stone quay down the hill from the castle. I think he had in