The Healer (17 page)

She gaped at him, the blood draining from her head to pool in the soles of her feet.

‘Have you any suggestions?’ he asked.

Her jaw dropped impossibly wider.

‘Aye, how could I forget?’ His features hardened to match his tone. ‘You believed I intended to toss you into Closeburn’s dungeon, most likely to wither and die.’

Lynelle tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. She clutched her sack so tightly her fingers ached. William stepped toward her, so close she had to tilt her head back to view his angry face. She wanted to look away, but the fury swirling in his turbulent gaze held hers.

‘I prefer not to be deemed a monster until my actions prove me such.’ Each word he forced out strained through his gritted teeth.

The truth of what he said set her cheeks aflame.

Shame for having judged another, as she’d been judged all her life, swamped her. Her heart constricted and heat prickled behind her eyes. Desperately needing to offer the solace she’d never been granted, she reached up and skimmed his cheek with the tips of her fingers. ‘Forgive me,’ she whispered.

He jerked away. His sooty brows lifted, showing his surprise, but he was no more surprised than she. Her hand fell stiffly to her side, fingers curling inward, the feel of his roughened jaw safely trapped within her palm.

Splinters of silver flashed in his slate coloured eyes, enchanting her. Something unknown passed between them. Something ...

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke the spell. ‘Are you ready, laird?’ An older man stood at a slight distance, his eyes downcast.

‘Aye, Geordie. ‘Tis past time we left.’ His voice sounded rough, gravelly. ‘Come.’ Turning, he gestured to the pier, where Geordie held the rowboat steady.

Ignoring his command, Lynelle stood firm and lifted her chin. ‘Lest my imagination take flight again, I’d prefer to know your plans for me.’

He slowly faced her, setting his fists on his lean hips. After giving her a meaningful look, he nodded and said, ‘You have unfinished business in the village. I am here to see you complete what you began.’

Her brow knotted, and her puzzlement must have shown.

‘Elspeth is expecting you.’

‘She is?’

‘Aye, if we hurry, perhaps we will make her cottage by nightfall.’

He was punishing her by giving her permission to continue tending Elspeth. She stared at him and realised he hid a softer side beneath his fierce visage – and perhaps a sense of mirth. Hope welled in her chest.

‘We’d best make haste then.’

Consumed by a weightless sensation, she seemed to float to the dock, and with William’s aid she climbed into the small boat. Unfurling her fisted hand, she peered at her fingertips. They looked unchanged, but they still tingled.

A gentle nudge signalled they’d reached the loch’s outer pier and she quickly tucked her fingers back into the centre of her hand. Silly, but she was certain she’d captured something special and she didn’t want to lose it.

Aided by the boatman, she clambered to shore. Half way to the village she suddenly stopped. ‘Wait. Where is Ian?’

William halted and faced her. ‘Ian is none of your concern.’ He turned and resumed walking. Lynelle trotted after him.

‘Please do not punish Ian. I alone am to blame for leaving the keep.’

Skidding to a stop, she shrank away from William’s wintry grey gaze.

‘I am laird here and will deal with those who compromise my clan’s safety as I see fit.’

He set a brisk pace and as she struggled to keep up, guilt churned in her belly. If Ian suffered punishment because of her, she’d never forgive herself. The blade of William’s sword glinted with each long stride he took, escalating her heartbeat and her fears for the young boatman. Where had his softer side gone?

Likely buried back in the pit of his soul
.

Lynelle desperately tried to erase the grim images swirling through her mind. William’s hand clutched her shoulder, startling her to a halt. She stared at the plume of smoke rising from the cottage she’d visited the day before.

A calloused hand cupped her chin and tilted her face up, sending sparks of warmth down her neck and along her jaw. Flint-coloured eyes studied her and then darkened to resemble storm clouds. ‘Ah, I see your imagination has flown again.’

‘Lynelle. Lynelle,’ a little voice squealed in excitement.

Shaking free of his hold, she spun around at the sound of her name. Carney charged toward her with all the speed a three-year-old boy’s legs could muster. She braced herself a moment before he barrelled into her thighs.

‘You come back. You come back,’ he said clutching her legs and gifting her with an enormous smile.

Her chest constricted and warmth fused her cheeks at the little boy’s unfettered delight. ‘Yes, Carney. I’ve come to see your mother.’

His bright eyes found William, and Lynelle was quickly forgotten.

‘You come back, too.’

Carney knew William? Lynelle stared at William, wondering when he’d visited the village.

Surprising her further, William snatched Carney up from the ground and perched him on one of his broad shoulders, drawing a giggle from Carney.

First the softening and now this gentle play. If she hadn’t witnessed both acts herself, she’d never have believed him capable of either. It took her a moment to gather her wits and start after them.

Keita dashed out to meet her, as William disappeared around to the rear of the cottage with Carney, whose childish laughter filled the air.

‘I thought you worked at the keep till noon,’ Lynelle said.

‘The laird has given me leave of my chores until mother’s legs are better.’ Keita’s smile showed her relief.

Lynelle added kindness to William’s growing list of hidden traits.

‘How is your mother?’

‘Oh, much better, thanks to you.’ Keita grasped her hand and pulled her to the door. ‘Come in and see for yourself.’

Keita had been busy. The disarray she’d seen the day before had vanished. A large iron-pot bubbled quietly over the fire and the smell of vegetable broth scented the dim interior.

Elspeth lay propped up on one of the heather-ticked mattresses positioned against the side wall; the other lay bare, save for the woollen blanket neatly folded at its foot. Kneeling beside her, Lynelle could see the purple shadows beneath the older woman’s eyes had faded. They exchanged greetings and smiles.

As she peeled away the bandages from Elspeth’s legs, joy flowed through her. The angry redness surrounding each sore had eased and the yellow pus weeping from the ulcers had lessened. Using the same methods as the day before, she quickly tended to Elspeth’s wounds.

‘Keep resting Elspeth, and you’ll be on your feet and dancing before you know it.’

Elspeth’s soft laughter made her smile as Keita walked her to the door.

Stepping outside, Lynelle leaned close. ‘Keita, I believe your mother is going to be fine, but I’m worried for Ian.’

‘Why?’ Keita said, with a puzzled expression.

Grasping the young woman’s sleeve, she said, ‘It wasn’t Ian who rowed us across the loch today, but another man. I fear the laird may be punishing Ian for aiding me.’

To Lynelle’s surprise, Keita smiled and blushed. ‘The laird has been very kind and I hope Ian doesn’t feel he is being punished.’

The sound of rumbling voices grew louder as William, Ian and Carney strolled into view. The two men appeared to be deep in conversation, while Carney seemed intrigued by the flashing sword hanging from William’s hip.

‘Ian arrived at first light this morn,’ Keita whispered. ‘He has already repaired the chicken enclosure, and chopped wood for cooking and heating.’

The young maid’s excitement was evident in her tone, and Ian didn’t look as if he’d been beaten or whipped, as Lynelle had imagined.

Her gaze crept to William and her heart tripped within her chest. She didn’t know what to think of the insufferably handsome man. Why did he act the tyrant with her, yet allowed her to see snippets of his caring side while dealing with others?

She murmured her farewells and she and William soon retraced their steps to Castle Loch. Lynelle failed to notice the luscious scenery or feel a sense of peace, as she had on yesterday’s journey.

On waking this morn, she’d been prepared to face any form of punishment metered out for escaping the castle. Instead, she’d received flowers and had been asked to tend Elspeth. Moreover, Keita’s duties had been suspended until her mother recovered and Ian’s had altered so he could assist Keita’s family.

Saint Jude, save me
. She’d never been so addled in her life.

Without turning her head, she stole a peek at the man beside her. There was an air of confidence and purpose about his lean, muscular frame. Head held high, an aura of pride and satisfaction surrounded him as he surveyed his lands.

Simply watching William walk sent tiny tendrils of excitement skittering through her. How fierce would the heat become if she were the object of his undivided attention? Casting her eyes forward, she locked out such thoughts.

Despite her desperate struggle to avoid William at all costs, her gaze constantly slid back to devour his dark, tempting countenance. Her traitorous mind began conjuring ways to spend more time with him.

Dear Lord. If she thought she’d slept poorly last night, she knew there’d be no respite from her tormenting dreams tonight.

THE moment Lynelle returned to the castle, Mary swept her down through the stone passageway to the healing room. A shadow of disappointment seeped into her chest at being separated from William so soon after she’d decided to stop avoiding him. Having witnessed his softer side, she wanted to glean any other attributes he kept hidden beneath his harsh, brooding exterior.

Together, she and Mary began sorting through the room’s abandoned wealth. They dusted and removed wooden stoppers from each small jar and clay pot and sniffed the mysterious contents. A chorus of sneezing erupted as their labours stirred to life seasons of neglect and potent aromas from long-stored plants.

Lynelle discovered several rolled leather satchels and set them aside for closer inspection later. It felt good having something to occupy her hands, but the physical exertions, Mary’s chatter and the wonders she found couldn’t stop her from thinking about William and wishing the day would end so she could lay eyes on him again.

Opening a large earthen pot, she lifted it to her nose and quickly drew back from the bitter, aromatic scent of tansy leaves. She set the jar to one side, planning to mix the leaves with freshly scattered rushes to dispel fleas and lice.

A sharp knock rattled the doorframe and a heavily bearded bear of a man filled the doorway. The thunderous scowl creasing his forehead sent a shudder of fear down the length of her spine.

‘Ah, Dougal,’ Mary said, reminding Lynelle she wasn’t alone. ‘Is your tooth causing you grief again?’

‘Aye, Mary.’ His soft reply, murmured from one side of his mouth, was at odds with his savage appearance. Lynelle’s brows shot straight up. ‘I can’t sleep and it pains me to eat. I’ll soon be wasting away to naught if something isn’t done.’

‘Come, Dougal,’ Mary said, waving him into the chamber. ‘Come and sit.’ Mary helped him ease his bulk onto the stool she’d vacated. ‘Can you aid the lad, Lynelle? The poor mite’s been suffering with the aching tooth since last winter’s onset.’

‘Yes, yes...of course,’ Lynelle said, trying to overcome her surprise at Mary’s fragile description of the hulking Scotsman who sat slumped forward with his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands.

Racking her memory, she searched her mind for herbs to remedy his ailment. ‘I will prepare him a brew to lessen the pain, but I will need wine to make a mixture to cleanse his mouth.’

‘You’re an angel, lass,’ Mary said. ‘I’ll fetch the wine, while you prepare the brew.’ Mary walked to the door and turned. ‘Dougal, this is Lynelle. The lass has agreed to help you, so mind your manners while I’m gone.’

‘Aye, Mary,’ Dougal said, barely lifting his head.

Lynelle quickly blended a tonic to ease any swelling inside Dougal’s mouth, knowing the feverfew would also calm the giant. ‘Drink every drop. It will help with your pain.’

His large, meaty hand swamped the vessel she offered and he downed the lot without hesitation. ‘I thank you.’

She nodded, returning to the newly cleaned workbench to begin grinding the wood betony leaves, tossing in a pinch of salt and a sprinkling of dried mint. Knowing her preparations would give Dougal relief was heartwarming.

‘The next tonic is not to be swallowed, but to be held and swirled around inside your mouth and then spat out.’

Dougal grunted in understanding.

‘Once done, I will need to look to see how diseased the offending tooth has become.’ His next grunt sounded higher pitched than the first.

Turning to face him, she found his brown, pain-glazed eyes watching her.

‘I can see how badly the tooth troubles you,’ she said softly. ‘But if left untreated, it will fester and may spread to other, healthy teeth.’

He gave her a brisk nod.

‘Here’s the wine, lass,’ Mary said, re-entering the room.

Pouring a good measure into the cup containing the crushed herbs, Lynelle stirred it through. Locating a deep, wooden bowl and a clean strip of linen, she draped the cloth across Dougal’s knees and handed him the cup and bowl. ‘Remember, take a goodly swig, swirl it round for a moment or two and spit it into the bowl. Be sure to do it several times, until the tonic in the cup is finished.’ He eyed each wooden vessel and then did as she bid.

She retrieved one of the burning candles mounted in an iron holder and placed it on the bench near Dougal. Taking the empty cup and bowl of used mouth cleanser from his bear-like hands, she set them atop the work table as he wiped his mouth on the linen cloth. Even through the dark grizzly hair sprouting from his cheeks and jaw, she could see the swelling on the left side of his face.

‘I need to take a look now, Dougal.’

Heaving what sounded like a resigned sigh, he swallowed and opened his mouth.