The Healer (11 page)

The healer flinched and lifted blue eyes full of uncertainty to his. Clad in a white gown, a nightgown, laced high on her throat, she looked as innocent and as lost as Mary had described.

Her hair was fashioned in a single plait that draped over one shoulder and shone red-gold in the flaming torchlight. His gaze travelled down the length of the garment and he spied bare toes peeking out from under the hem. The small toes curled inward as he watched.

‘I’ve come to see to Edan.’

Her voice held remarkably steady, considering the nervousness emanating from her. She had a right to feel nervous, for in his tired and uncomfortable state a sense of wickedness had swelled in his blood. He held it in check.

‘My brother awaits.’ He gestured to the bed, where Edan lay quietly, and then poured the last pail of the now warm water into the tub. If he didn’t make use of the cooling water soon, he might as well strip naked and wash outside in the rain.

Placing the empty vessel beside the others, William wandered to the unoccupied side of the bed as Edan finished telling the healer he hadn’t suffered any ill effects from his drenching.

She mixed a potion using the water and wine set on the bedside table and sipped. William then tasted it before passing it to his brother. Her hands trembled slightly as she scooped the salve from the pot and painted it onto his proffered wrist. She used gentle strokes to coat Edan’s thigh wound, wrapped his leg with thick bandages and then re-splinted his broken arm.

William aided her in binding Edan’s bruised torso, her fingers brushing his as they passed the long strips of linen back and forth. Her breathing hitched with each feather-like touch and the control he mustered to tame his sinful thoughts slipped a notch every time she gasped. The scent of lavender wafting from her silky hair and skin only heightened his sense of wickedness.

She swiftly gathered her herbs, gently ordered Edan to rest before bidding the lad a good night and walked to the door. William reached for the latch and hesitated. Her gaze slowly travelled the length of his arm, burned a path over his shoulder and up along his neck, until her eyes met his.

A sinful thought broke free. ‘Have you no commands or wishes for me?’

Her gaze dropped to his chest and skittered away. ‘I suggest you rid yourself of your wet clothes...’ She stopped speaking and looked at him with shock in her wide eyes.

The urge to smile tugged at his lips. He suppressed it. ‘Are you offering to help me?

‘No.’

His mouth curved faintly as her pale cheeks turned scarlet and she clutched her satchel closely to her chest.

‘‘Tis as well I can see to myself then.’ He opened the door and watched her hastily cross the hall, shutting herself inside her chamber.

Fixing the latch in place, he studied Edan’s sleeping form for a moment, before he finally stripped out of his sodden clothes.

He stepped into the tub and sank down into the lukewarm water, relieved it had cooled. Though bone-weary from lack of sleep and mind-weary from his constant worry over Edan, the part of him that proved him male stood proud and tall, craving attention.

Thank the saints he’d asked Mary to uncover the healer’s secrets for him. He could then learn all he wanted to know about her but only need suffer her unsettling presence each time she tended Edan. It would be safer this way, safer for him and for her.

William groaned and slipped beneath the tepid water.

LYNELLE woke as Mary entered her room with a laden tray the next morning. She dragged herself up in the bed. Despite spending the night in such a luxurious bed, she hadn’t slept well. Her dreams had been tormented by images of a damp shirt, clinging to the muscled contours of a powerful chest, and dark eyes full of mischief.

‘Morn, lass.’

Pushing her mussed hair from her face, she watched the older woman potter about, fussing with the hide draping the arrow-slit window and checking Lynelle’s boots drying before the dying hearth. The tub had been removed while she’d tended Edan the night before. ‘Have you seen Edan this morn? Is he well?’

‘Aye. He slept the full night and is resting in his chamber.’

Lynelle slid her feet to the cold, wooden floor and crossed to the small round table where Mary had left the tray. ‘You should not be serving me.’

The older woman turned and looked at her. ‘Ach! Sit and eat, lass. Start with the bowl of oats. They taste better warm.’

Perching on the stool, Lynelle scooped up the oats with a spoon made of bone. Combined with goat’s milk, the oats were delicious.

‘If I didn’t bring you something to break your fast, you’d waste away to naught.’ Lynelle paused from eating the next spoonful. ‘The laird has commanded you to stay within this chamber.’

Lynelle’s stomach tightened at hearing the truth of what she was. Although she was confined to a beautifully decorated room instead of the cold, slimy dungeon she’d imagined, she was a prisoner.

She’d known what to expect, had believed she’d prepared for the worse. But still. Lowering her lashes to hide the disappointment she shouldn’t be feeling, she took another mouthful. The oats now tasted like ashes. She pushed the tray away, leaving the bread and cheese untouched, and sipped from her cup, swilling the cool water around in her mouth.

She mustn’t let disappointment find her again.

‘Whose chamber is this?’

Mary ceased tidying the bed. Three heartbeats later she resumed smoothing the covers. ‘This was sweet Rhona’s room. She was sister to William and Edan.’

Lynelle’s disappointment lessened as her gaze wandered about the feminine chamber. ‘What happened to her?’

Mary stopped rearranging the pillows and stared down at the rose-hued cushion she held. ‘The ague.’ Squeezing the bolster to her chest, she sniffed and gently laid it on the bed with the others. ‘Such a bonny wee lass and far too young to leave us.’

A knot of sorrow filled Lynelle’s chest as she watched the older woman struggle to bring her grief under control. ‘Forgive me. I...I didn’t...’

‘‘Tis good to speak of Rhona,’ Mary said, cutting off her apology. ‘‘Tis nice to have a lass of similar age to fuss over.’ She gave Lynelle a small, watery smile and walked to the door. ‘I’ll return with your attire soon.’

Left alone, Lynelle padded on bare feet to the window and peered out at the new day. With the hour still early, the sky appeared to struggle between blue and grey. Meek sunlight filtered in from the east, and each ray of pale gold seemed to point out the puddles and wet spots from the deluge last evening.

Had Rhona looked out her window each day and gloried at the gently rolling hills to the south? Was her hair as black as her brothers’ hair and her eyes the same silver-grey? Had William wept when his sister passed on?

He was extremely protective of his younger brother, an honourable trait. Had he been as vigilant a guardian with Rhona? Had a healer tended Rhona? If so, what had happened to the healer?

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to clear her mind of her unwanted thoughts.

Hearing Ada talk about the joy of aiding the ill and easing another’s pain had been the one bright spot in her cursed existence. Now Lynelle’s small experience with healing had given her the first real feeling of accomplishment in what she sometimes saw as her wasted life.

It saddened her greatly to think anyone doubted the good of healing. Healing was a gift, a knowledge that needed nurturing. It must be, for if it wasn’t she had nothing else to believe in.

Mary returned with her spare gown, and a young woman with bright red hair carried in a basin of water. Although the younger woman’s time in the room was brief, she sent numerous fleeting glances Lynelle’s way, before leaving along with Mary.

After washing, Lynelle dressed and welcomed the small measure of normalcy wearing her own clothes afforded her. She then spent the better part of the day sorting what remained of her herbs and studying the contents of the sack the Elliots’ healer had given her.

Other than the pot of salve, mortar, pestle, bowls and clean linens, the gifted sack contained only a small pouch of yarrow leaves used to stem bleeding. Lynelle’s own supply of feverfew was dangerously low, as she’d used the herb each day to make Edan comfortable and prevent a fever taking hold. She’d need to find a way to replenish her stock.

How was she to do this while confined to her room? Her answer came late in the day with a knock on the door and a summons, not from Mary but from the laird himself.

‘Edan’s leg pains him,’ William said.

Lynelle jumped to her feet and tore her gaze from the broad shoulders filling the doorway.

‘I will come immediately.’

She retrieved all she needed and kept her gaze averted as she walked toward the door, expecting him to move. Instead, he turned sideways. Her eyes lifted, assessing his carved profile. Did he see her as nothing other than a healer, a prisoner?

She sucked in a deep breath and fought the frustration heating her cheeks. Edging past him, his masculine scent teased her nostrils, and her breasts brushed his broad chest. She froze. Her breath caught. She darted through the doorway, crossed the dimly lit corridor and stopped in front of Edan’s chamber. William halted beside her. His size made her feel tiny, fragile. Her sudden vulnerability annoyed her and excited her in an unfamiliar way.

She looked up into his dark, watchful eyes. ‘To prevent Edan pain, it would be best for me to tend him each morning and night.’

William’s gaze bore into hers before skimming her features. She willed her legs not to buckle, forced herself to stand her ground.

‘Whatever is best for Edan,’ he said, his voice deep and low.

He reached past her, his arm almost touching her shoulder as he opened the door.

Lynelle clutched her herbs to her fluttering stomach and entered the room. She conjured up a smile for the injured young man lying on the bed. ‘Good eve, Edan.’

His smile was lost in a pain-filled grimace. Guilt rose in her belly, turning the recent fluttering to nausea. She should have spoken sooner about tending Edan more often.

She quickly prepared the same tonic she’d used from the outset, noticing the wine and water already sitting on the bedside table. ‘This will stem your pain.’

Lynelle sipped the concoction and passed it to William, who drank, paused and offered the cup to Edan. Placing a knee on the bed, William propped his young brother up, as Edan drained every drop. He then gently lowered Edan back onto the bed.

Knowing it would take time for the tonic to take effect, Lynelle distracted Edan by asking of his other injuries. As they spoke, his body relaxed and his eyelids grew heavy. ‘Rest now. Your leg wound needs redressing, but I will tend to it later tonight.’

A faint smile curved Edan’s lips as his lashes dipped and closed.

Relief trickled through Lynelle and she looked across Edan’s sleeping form to William. He peered down at his brother and his wide chest expanded and released, as if drawing a huge sigh.

‘Do not worry. Edan’s sleep is a peaceful one.’

William’s troubled eyes caught hers and she glanced away from the open concern glinting in the charcoal depths. She gathered her herbs and strode from the room.

Pausing outside her chamber, she turned to face the man whose presence she felt like a touch.

‘My stock of feverfew grows low.’

One dark brow lifted as he peered down at her.

‘I must find more if I’m to continue aiding your brother.’

He folded large arms across his broad chest and leaned a muscular shoulder on the wall. He appeared relaxed, now Edan was asleep. Faint noises from the great hall below broke the quietness of the dim corridor where they stood alone. His lips looked full, having lost the tightness around his mouth. A shiver whispered along her skin and her heartbeat danced more swiftly in her chest.

Why did she feel hot and cold all at once when he was near? How could she feel safe, yet in danger at the same time?

Why did he not say something?

‘I will see your herbs do not run out.’

Finally
. ‘Thank you.’ She turned to the door. Fingering the latch, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip and turned back to face him. ‘I am sorry about your sister, Rhona.’

William surged away from the wall. His powerful arms dropped to his sides, stiff, rigid. His large hands curled into fists.

‘What do you know of Rhona?’ His tone rang with menace. His expression spoke of hurt and anger.

Lynelle pressed back against the oak panel behind her. ‘Only that she died.’

‘My sister is not your concern.’

‘Was there no one to care for her?’

‘You dare too much, healer.’

His arm shot toward her and she ducked her head, prepared for the blow. It never came. Instead, the solid mass supporting her weight from behind, gave way.

She stumbled backwards through the opened door of her room. With flailing arms she tried to catch her balance. Strong, warm hands spanned her waist, sending streaks of lightning through her body. The world righted itself.

Gasping for breath, she stared into silver, narrowed eyes that studied her too closely. She felt the pulsing warmth of bare skin beneath her palms. She glanced down at her small white hands clutching his sun-bronzed forearms. William’s arms, dusted with dark silky hair, and her hands, clinging for dear life.

Snatching them away, she stepped back and wrapped her arms about her quivering middle. Dear Lord. She didn’t know where to look. So she settled her gaze on the toes of his boots.

Why didn’t he leave? Was he waiting for her to thank him for preventing her fall? She should, but her voice seemed trapped in her throat. She struggled just to breathe.

The leather boots left her sight and she heard the sound of the door-latch sinking into place. He’d gone. She didn’t need to search the room to know. While his presence disturbed her, the loss of it filled her with a strange ache. Why? She had no clue. She only knew she must learn to ignore it.

***

William stared at the closed wooden panel, his thoughts consumed by the woman inside the room. Lifting his hands, he pressed his open-palms to the cold stone on either side of the door. Had she thought he’d moved to strike her? Had someone beaten her before? The gash on her cheek was still fresh.