The Healer (8 page)

He was a leader, as was her father, but as she observed William’s gestures and manner, she realized the similarities ended there.

She couldn’t envision her father, or any of the lords who visited Fenwick, perched on the ground sharing a meal and banter with their men. And never would her father share his saddle with another, as William had done for her, unwilling or not.

The idea of tainting a potion to make him ill suddenly soured her stomach.

She glanced down at her trencher, surprised to find it empty. Worry for Thomas had overridden hunger when the maid had delivered a tray to her room at dawn. She hadn’t touched a single morsel then.

Thoughts of her stepbrother loomed, but he was far away at this moment and she had more important matters to focus on. She needed to survive the coming days by pretending to be an accomplished healer.

Sipping from the drinking vessel, she drank only a little. She needed to keep her wits about her here among these strangers.

Why did William mistrust healers? Edan’s revelation snared her curiosity and she desperately wanted to learn the cause of his wariness. Discovering his reasons might help her understand the man better.

Or it could lead her into further trouble.

RELIEVED the meal was over, William gave the order to move on. His agitation had nothing to do with the company he shared or the food he consumed. It had everything to do with his sudden urge to watch the healer to ensure she ate well. He’d won the initial skirmish, but knew he’d lost the battle when he’d asked Donald to report how much the woman had eaten.

Everything, he’d been informed.

He called another halt during the afternoon, giving them all a chance to stretch their legs, but mostly to give himself a respite from the woman nestled in his lap. Though she sat rigid and silent throughout the journey, he couldn’t ignore her feminine presence. He almost wished she’d grumble so he could justify tossing her from his horse and making her walk.

She didn’t utter a single word of complaint. Her meek acceptance of the situation after he’d witnessed the flash of defiance in her eyes fuelled his thirst to know more about her.

‘Is there another at Fenwick who will tend the people in your absence?’

She stiffened and kept her face averted.

‘No.’

‘You will be sorely missed, then.’

William peered down and noticed her fingers twisting together. Before he’d spoken, her hands had been calmly folded and unmoving.

‘A healing woman lives in the village to the east. She will be called upon if her skills are needed.’

‘Have you saved many with your skills?’ William anxiously awaited her response, not realizing how important her answer was until he’d asked the question.

‘Wouldn’t you rather know how many have died after I’ve tended them?’

She turned her head a fraction and stared down at her fidgeting hands. Her new position allowed him to see her face in profile. She appeared pale and drawn. Again she’d answered his question with one of her own.

‘Aye,’ he finally said.

Her slender shoulders lifted as she drew a deep breath and William held his own at her lingering silence.

‘None I have treated have died under my care.’

William exhaled slowly and looked away. His worry eased, but he couldn’t understand why she seemed displeased by her flawless record.

Looking to the west, he found the sun creeping slowly toward the horizon. A few hours of daylight remained and he wanted to establish a makeshift camp for the night before full darkness fell.

Ahead, a cluster of alder trees huddled together, protected by an outcropping of rock protruding from the hill.

‘Donald,’ he called. ‘We’ll rest here for the night.’

‘Aye, Will.’

William’s eyes strayed to the bandages wrapped about his brother’s limbs.

‘Pray to God your healing success remains unblemished,’ he said softly.

***

The moment Donald lifted her to the ground, Lynelle dashed toward the clump of trees as fast as her unsteady legs allowed. She used the excuse that she was easing a full bladder, when truthfully she needed distance between herself and William’s probing questions and soft-spoken threats.

Twisting his words had saved her from revealing the fraud she was. But how long would it be before he asked a question she couldn’t alter?

Knowing she couldn’t hide within the foliage forever, she emerged from the trees and found the three men making preparations for the night.

Edan lay on the litter, but it had been disconnected from the horse and placed beneath a sheltering rock formation. Donald gathered their belongings and placed the sacks under nature’s stone roof for protection. Keith saw to the horses and William crouched nearby, building a fire. They all appeared engrossed in their tasks, but as Lynelle made her way to Edan she was aware her every move was being observed.

Extracting her sack from the pile, she removed her herb satchel and sat beside Edan.

‘I’d like to look at your wounds while there is still natural light to see by.’

Edan’s eyes widened a fraction and she heard him swallow.

‘My aim is to ease your suffering, not increase it,’ she said. ‘I promise to be gentle with you.’

Edan rewarded her with a nod and a tremulous smile. She prayed she could uphold her promise.

‘I’ll start with your leg,’ she said, and shifted to her knees beside the pallet.

Deep-voiced conversation sounded nearby, but she closed her ears to its content and focused solely on her task. With fingers that trembled only slightly, she began removing the strips of linen Iona had wrapped around Edan’s left thigh, all the while glancing at Edan to ensure she wasn’t causing him undue discomfort.

She paused after unrolling half the dressing and drew a fortifying breath. Edan peered up at her and her stomach clenched. She managed a reassuring smile despite knowing this was the easy part. He frowned and focused on his lower limb.

Sweat beaded between her breasts as she continued unravelling the linen discoloured by the salve the Elliot’s healer had applied to the wound. Finally, she peeled the last of the dressing away and stared at the ointment-smeared wound.

‘I need to wash away the salve and apply fresh ointment before I redress it.’ The words slipped out as she spoke her thoughts aloud.

‘The water is almost boiled.’

Lynelle jumped. William stood close behind her, looking intently at his brother’s injury.

‘I witnessed Iona’s healing methods when Edan was first injured,’ he said. ‘She bathed his injuries before applying the stitches and the salve.’ His gaze slid to her. ‘I believe she included a pot of the ointment and fresh linens for the journey,’ he finished, setting Iona’s sack down beside her, before making his way back to the fire.

Lynelle blinked and reached for the sack, relieved she hadn’t known he’d been watching her work. She rummaged and found a small earthen jar wrapped among fresh linen strips, all neatly housed within two wooden bowls.

She set aside what she needed and withdrew the crushed sopewort from her own assortment of herbs, placing a pinch of the herb into each of the bowls. Following Ada’s adamant advice, she’d wash her own hands before touching Edan’s open wound.

William returned carrying an iron pot, the steam from the boiled water wafting into the air. Lynelle held both wooden bowls, while he poured hot liquid into each and she set them aside to cool.

‘Tell me of your other injuries,’ she said to Edan.

‘A bone in my arm is broken,’ he replied, looking at the splinted limb.

‘Is any of the skin broken on your arm?’

Edan looked puzzled and peered up at his older brother who stood watching over him.

‘Nae,’ William answered for him.

‘Then I will leave it untouched for now,’ she said, leaning closer to appraise the small gash on his face. She would wash the scratch and apply some ointment to it also. ‘Anything else I should know of?’

‘He might have broken a rib or two in the fall,’ William informed her.

‘May I take a look?’ she asked Edan.

He nodded, and using his uninjured hand he drew his shirt up for her to see. Lynelle examined his bound middle and spied the purplish discolouration above the dressing on his chest and below his lower abdomen.

‘You were certainly lucky to have Iona tend to your injuries. She is obviously a skilled and practiced healer.’

Gratitude for the learned healer welled inside Lynelle. Edan’s ongoing care had been made much easier because of Iona’s expert initial care.

‘I will leave these dressings intact until we reach your home,’ she explained, lowering his shirt back into place. ‘Now to your leg.’

Dipping the tips of her fingers into one of the bowls, she tested the temperature of the water. Satisfied, she washed her hands as best she could and dried them thoroughly on a piece of clean linen. She lifted the used bowl and placed it before William.

‘If you wish to test the cleansing wash, I ask that you use this one.’

William didn’t hesitate.

While she waited for his consent, she hid her irritation by retrieving a fresh cloth and dipped it into the second bowl, squeezing out the excess moisture.

‘Go on,’ he finally said.

Licking her dry lips, she looked into Edan’s wide eyes and explained what she meant to do. ‘It’s important to keep wounds clean. I’m going to bathe your wounds and then apply more ointment.’

Lynelle washed the gash on his cheek first and using a different cloth carefully began wiping all traces of the salve from his thigh. The flesh surrounding the wound looked slightly pink, but appeared free of infection. A neat line of dark stitches held the broken skin together and she stared in awe at Iona’s handiwork.

‘Where did you learn your healing methods?’

Lynelle glanced up at William before quickly looking back at the wound. ‘My knowledge comes from Fenwick’s previous healer, Ada. She taught me everything I know.’

About life as well as healing
.

Swallowing past the lump that formed in her throat, she gently patted both wounds dry and grasped the crock of salve. Releasing the stopper, she scooped a little onto her finger and rubbed it into the back of her hand. She knew what William expected of her and would rather do it without his command.

The hog fat she believed Iona used to make the ointment made its application smooth and slippery. Not having prepared the salve, she didn’t know the precise ingredients Iona had used.

She waited, half expecting some strange reaction to unfold when a large masculine hand was thrust into her line of sight. The offending limb slowly turned, revealing a hairless wrist, the skin a shade paler than the bronzed upper side.

Her mouth suddenly turned as dry as the leaves in her herb satchel. For most of the day she’d endured him touching her by necessity, avoiding it whenever and however she could. Now, she was expected to touch him. The thought of doing so terrified her.

You freely touched Edan
.

But he is wounded, less dangerous
.

Two weeks, Lynelle. Get used to it
.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘No.’ She answered too quickly, her voice too loud. ‘No, there is no problem,’ she said more calmly.

She coated the tip of her finger with salve, resolved to have it done. Carefully bunching her remaining fingers so they wouldn’t brush against him, she aimed her extended finger at the centre of his inner wrist.

Heat shot through her finger on contact, but she forced herself to hold still and not snatch her hand away. With slow, even strokes, she painted an inch of his flesh with the salve. It was like caressing hot steel.

‘Enough!’

She jerked at his low growl and the mesmerizing moment was broken. Her cheeks warmed and she gazed intently at Edan’s bared wound to cover her embarrassment.

‘You may apply the salve and bandage the wound,’ William said. ‘I’d like to eat and have all settled before nightfall.’

Lynelle glimpsed the fading daylight and set to work. She smoothed a small amount of ointment to the scratch on Edan’s face and left it uncovered. As she applied a thick coating to the leg wound, she didn’t bother telling William she was capable of tending to Edan if he had other things to do. She knew he wouldn’t leave.

She wrapped fresh linens about his leg until a thick protective bandage covered the wound. Dropping back on her haunches, she inspected her work. Fierce pride filled her chest and a shimmer of moisture blurred her vision.

‘Thank you, Lynelle.’

Lynelle blinked and smiled into Edan’s young face. ‘You’re welcome, Edan. I’ll leave you to rest now.’

Standing, she waited for the blood to rush back into her lower legs and then bundled the bandages together to be boiled for re-use later. Gathering the used bowls, she wandered to the stream in the fading light and washed them clean. Once done, she set them on the grassy bank and sat back, wrapping her arms about her bent knees and stared into the darkening sky.

She wanted to jump up and down and shout and laugh with delight. She wanted to dance and cheer and let everyone know she wasn’t the blight on the world all believed her to be. Her body thrummed with repressed joy and her heart and breathing raced with excitement.

Nothing could erase her happiness. Not her predicament, or William’s mistrust, or even the scorching memory of touching him.

Eyes closed, restraining her legs with shaking hands, Lynelle rejoiced in trembling silence.

‘Keith has trapped and cooked several grouse if you’re hungry, lass.’

Lynelle’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Donald’s voice. He stood a few feet away from where she sat, as if he hadn’t wanted to disturb her.

‘Thank you, Donald.’ She couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, but knew he waited for her. Rising, she picked up the wooden bowls and followed him back to the others.

The aroma of roasting meat filled the air, but failed to entice her appetite. She was pleasantly full on her sense of accomplishment. Keith ate alone by the fire, and when she peered to her right she could just make out two shadowy figures nearby.