The Healer (10 page)

She swallowed, took a small step closer and bobbed her head in acknowledgement. The steward returned the favour.

‘Malcolm’s wife will be along soon to see you settled,’ Donald said. ‘I must go.’

Lynelle didn’t want him to leave her alone with the steward, but refused to beg him to stay. ‘Thank you, Donald,’ she said.

‘I’ll deliver your belongings soon.’ Donald gently squeezed her shoulder. ‘You’ll be fine, lass.’

Surprised by the reassuring touch to her shoulder, Lynelle watched him walk back out into the unwelcoming night.

She soon lost sight of him, but through the driving rain she could see Closeburn’s looming high curtain wall, so similar to Fenwick’s. Both embraced the occupants with safekeeping, but she knew she wasn’t happily accepted inside either.

Would that not change when she returned to Fenwick? After securing Thomas’ safety, would her father open his arms and heart to her and finally call her daughter?

Pray to God your healing success remains unblemished
.

William’s softly spoken threat loomed in her mind.

Before she discovered how her father might greet her, she had to fulfil her part of the bargain here. There was no doubt William would blame her if Edan’s condition took a turn for the worse. She shuddered.

‘Here, lass. You’ll catch your death if you stand there any longer in those sodden clothes.’

Lynelle spun about to find Malcolm offering her a blanket.

‘Give me your cloak,’ he said.

She stared warily. It was the only one she had.

Steady brown eyes met hers. ‘I’ll see it’s returned to you when it’s dry.’ His tone rang with kindness.

She fumbled with the ties at her throat and passed over the dripping, threadbare garment in exchange for the dry woollen blanket. ‘Thank you.’

He accepted her gratitude with a small smile. ‘My Mary shouldn’t be far away now. She’s seeing to the laird and young Edan.’

Before he’d finished speaking, a short, round woman bustled into the alcove.

‘If only the laird would allow me to do my duty. But nae, the stubborn man has to tend wee Edan himself.’

Lynelle stared in shock at how the older woman spoke of her laird. Her father would never tolerate being called stubborn, or anything else.

‘Now Mary, it’ll do your heart nae good to be fretting over the laird,’ Malcolm said. ‘He knows what he’s about.’

‘I know, Malcolm. But the young lad is injured and with Jinny gone...’ Concern rang in the woman’s voice. ‘Who’s to tend his wounds?’

‘I am.’

Two sets of eyes, one brown, and one grey, fixed on her.

Fine white brows rose above the grey eyes. ‘You’re a healer?’

Shock laced Mary’s tone. Did she not look as a healer should? The woman couldn’t know Lynelle wasn’t a true healer, could she?

Lynelle straightened and answered ‘Yes’ with as much confidence as she could muster.

‘And you’re English?’ The older woman’s brow shot impossibly higher.

Lynelle clamped her jaw and answered with a slow nod.

Grey eyes stared into hers. ‘Never mind. You can’t help where you were born, lass.’

Lynelle blinked.

‘Come, then,’ Mary said, beckoning Lynelle forward with a pudgy hand. ‘I’ll have you dry, warm and fed before you know it.’

Lynelle hesitated for a moment more, but she knew she couldn’t continue standing here dripping wet. She caught the folds of the now damp blanket in front of her and crossed them closed before bobbing farewell to Malcolm and following his wife inside.

Warmth brushed her cheeks as she entered a huge chamber. The haze of smoke hovering overhead tickled her nose as a sea of faces turned to stare at her.

These were William Kirkpatrick’s clan. She was inside his castle, a fortress filled with his people, Scots people, and she was pretending to be a skilled healer. She ducked her head as a feeling of aloneness swamped her. Is this how a mouse would feel among a pack of wolves?

Keeping her eyes on Mary’s generous curves, she climbed the stairs at her heels. Her legs were trembling by the time she made her way up the third flight of thick stone steps. Two days on horseback, a short ride in a boat and her struggle against the drenching elements had sucked her dry. She wanted to lie down and simply stop all movement just for a while.

As if sensing Lynelle’s physical strain, Mary turned and said, ‘Not far now, lass.’ The encouragement proved enough to get her to the next landing.

Padding her way along a torch-lit corridor, Mary ushered her into a room on the left. The heat from the blazing hearth instantly touched her cheeks, but the sight of the chamber’s interior brought her to an abrupt halt.

Never had she seen such a glorious room. It wasn’t surprising, since she’d never set foot inside Fenwick’s keep.

A high bed strewn with cushions hugged the wall to her left. Stone walls were decorated with tapestries of wildflowers and animals of the forest. The thick hides thrown on the floor looked soft, inviting and far too lovely to walk upon. The huge, steaming tub positioned in front of the fire stole her very breath.

‘If you don’t hurry, the water will be too cold to warm your bones.’

Lynelle blinked and drew in a rush of lavender-filled air. ‘This is for me?’

‘Nae. It’s for William’s bad-tempered horse.’ Lynelle’s gaze rounded on the portly woman’s face and found her studying her intently. A small frown puckered Mary’s brow. ‘That was a jest. Of course it’s for you. Come now,’ she said, coaxing Lynelle forward. ‘And just so you know, I wouldn’t allow that beast to set one hoof inside these walls.’

Still feeling a little uncertain about Mary and of where she was, Lynelle carefully walked around the perimeter of the room to avoid muddying the furs with her boots. She stopped beside the round tub and peered into its depths. The scent of lavender was stronger here and the dancing flames licking high in the grate teased her with warmth.

‘I can help you with your bath, lass, or leave you,’ Mary said. ‘The choice is yours.’

Lynelle clutched the borrowed blanket more firmly. ‘I will manage on my own.’ She always had. ‘Thank you.’

‘If you’re sure, then?’

‘I am.’

‘Then I’ll fetch you something to wear for when you’re done and bring you a tray.’

Mary strode to the door, but paused before leaving. ‘I’m a good listener if you need an ear to bend, lass.’ With those puzzling words and a direct look, the woman departed.

Lynelle stared at the closed door. All day she’d wondered about finally arriving at William’s home and what it would mean for her. Since the crack of the dreary dawn, she hadn’t doubted they’d reach his castle today. Even the horses had seemed to display a restlessness, a heightened edge of expectation.

As the day wore on, she’d resigned herself to expect the worse. Expecting the worse saved one from grave disappointment. Did Closeburn have a dungeon complete with rats and oozing moss-covered walls? Would she be dragged into the bowels of the fortress, permitted above only to tend Edan, never to see the light of day again?

But then the rain had tumbled down and William Kirkpatrick had pressed her against him, sheltering her from the downpour.

His caring manner had mystified her.

A log crackled in the hearth, drawing her back from the unfamiliar warmth and security his embrace had offered. She peered into the clear, still water and saw her lips were curved in a smile. Her eyes lifted to the graze marring her left cheek. Memories of her stepmother’s fury flooded her mind and her smile fell. A droplet from her wet hair broke the water’s stillness, distorting her features, shattering illusions.

She vividly recalled the hostile glare William bestowed upon her in the boat. The man didn’t trust her. He didn’t even like her. Gifting her with a bath hadn’t changed anything. She’d been brought here to heal Edan, nothing more. She must remain wary and be prepared for the worst.

Lynelle quickly discarded the blanket and peeled off her sodden gown and shift, along with her sorry boots and hose. She threw nervous glances toward the door as she placed her clothes on the bare floor by the wall. Then on white, wrinkled toes, she used the wooden footstool and climbed into the tub.

A delicious shiver rippled through her as she sank down into the hot, scented water. A sigh slipped free and her skin prickled. Closing her eyes, she basked in the glorious feel of restored warmth, surprised how swiftly the chill left her.

William’s dark, rain-swept visage loomed behind her closed lids. Her eyes snapped open. If the laird was wet through, how had Edan faired?

Worry spurred her on. She dunked her head beneath the fragrant water and made quick use of the pot of soap resting on the tub’s edge. Hair and body scrubbed and rinsed as well as she could manage, she climbed out, dried her body and wrapped her long tresses in a towel.

Standing in front of the blazing hearth, she searched the chamber for something other than the drying cloth to cover her nakedness. She was eager to see to Edan’s wounds, but could hardly tend him without a stitch on.

The image of William’s stormy eyes assessing her unclad form rushed in from nowhere, sending a flash of blinding heat into her cheeks, a scorching so intense that no bath or flame could compete with its fierceness.

She tightened the linen cloth about her and moved closer to the fire. Freeing her hair, she clawed her fingers through the tangled mass, staring at the pile of sodden clothes she’d recently discarded.

Her spare gown was inside her sack of belongings, but it could well be as wet as the one she’d dispensed. Donald said he would deliver her things to her, but how long would she have to wait?

She frowned at the muddied garments. Why hadn’t she thought to wring them out and hang them before the fire? A spare gown was one thing, but she only had one pair of hose and a single shift, as thin and worn as they were. Her boots were in an even sorrier state.

There was nothing else for it. Unless she wanted to parade around with only her waist-length hair adorning her body, she’d just have to dress in the cold, dirt-streaked clothes she’d lived and slept in for the past two days.

She imagined herself walking these halls naked and smiled. She could see the horrified stares from the women and the rounded eyes of every Scotsman watching her sail about the fortress with her shoulders back and her head held high. They’d think her mad.

She pressed her fingers to her lips to stifled the giggle building in her throat.

The memory of Edan’s trusting gaze killed her urge to laugh. William’s burning glare, hot enough to turn her flesh into a smouldering pile of cinders, wiped her smile clean. Then a sharp knock at the door had her reaching for her filthy attire.

***

William closed his ears to Edan’s constant chant that he wasn’t a babe and finished drying his ill-tempered brother. He laid him on the bed, threw the coverlet over his bruised and stitched body and plumped the bolster to annoy the lad further.

‘I’d prefer one of your drawn-out lectures to your mothering.’

William hid his smile and strode back to the tub and began topping it up with the unused pails of hot water. If complaints spelled good health, then Edan’s condition hadn’t worsened. He mentally sighed with relief.

A soft knock sounded. ‘Enter,’ William called.

Mary came in. Her inquisitive eyes studied Edan’s prostrate form and then settled on him. Why was she back so soon?

As if reading his thoughts she said. ‘The lass has bathed and dresses in a borrowed gown as we speak.’ William nodded and tested the temperature of the water.

‘Have you discovered all her secrets while settling her?’ Mary’s innate curiosity kept her abreast of even the smallest changes within the castle. It was a great help to a busy laird.

‘She refused my assistance, so I’ve had little chance to learn anything.’ A note of disappointment crept into the older woman’s voice. ‘When I returned to her assigned chamber, with a tray and the clothes one of the kitchen maids kindly offered, I found she’d already finished bathing and stood by the fire clutching her wet clothes.’

An image of the Englishwoman, dressed in nothing but pink flushed skin, rose to the forefront of William’s mind. As tired as he was, his body stirred to life.

‘She looks as lost as a frightened lamb and holds her secrets close,’ Mary continued. ‘But given time, I shall find out all there is to know about her.’

‘Good.’ William didn’t doubt it.

‘Donald fetched her scant belongings,’ Mary went on, ‘but they were in poor shape. She has her healing herbs and is eager to see Edan.’

Though he wanted to rid himself of his sodden attire, William said, ‘Bring her eagerness here, then. I doubt Edan will whine over her coddling, as he does mine.’

‘A woman is meant to coddle the sick and injured,’ Edan pointed out from the bed. ‘And she is much prettier to look upon than you.’

Aye, she was, even travel-worn and soaked through. How would she appear freshly bathed and free of the sorry cloak she’d worn like armour for the last two days?

‘Why don’t you tell me everything you know about her, laird?’

William turned and looked into Mary’s keen gaze. ‘There is little to tell, Mary. Edan needed a healer. The woman volunteered.’

‘Ah, blether. She’s English and there’s more to how she came to be here,’ she muttered and headed for the door.

‘One more thing, Mary,’ William said. ‘I expect you to pass on all you learn about the healer.’

Mary’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now I ken you’re hiding something.’ With a sharp nod of her head, Mary left the room.

William resumed filling the tub and sighed when a sharp rap sounded on the thick oak panel. Mary obviously wasn’t pleased with him. ‘Come.’

The portal opened and a scowling Mary trudged back in, followed by the healer carrying her herbs.

‘Thank you, Mary. You can find your rest now.’

She threw him a glare and turned on her heel. ‘Don’t let them keep you long, lass,’ she said to the healer. ‘After sharing their company on your journey here, you’ll be in need of a good night’s rest. I’ll come for you in the morning.’ She marched from the room, slamming the heavy door behind her.