Ginny smiled a soft smile and re-entered the tent. As Ginny went about what ministrations she could provide, considering her lack of supplies, Aileana sat quietly and answered what questions she could. The examination took only a few minutes. Aileana had been raped repeatedly, by many different men, who cared little about her safety. Ginny never dealt with a rape victim before and didn't know what she could do for this woman now. She had no antibiotics to give her in case of venereal disease. She had no way to ease her discomfort with pain medications. So, in the end, she did what she could by gently washing Aileana from head to toe and soothing her with impotent words.
Calling out to Alec, Ginny ordered hot water and soap. When those things were brought in, she asked for a comb and scissors as well. The poor woman, above everything else, had lice. Ginny used a washcloth to wash off the filth the woman had been living in for weeks. Bowls of hot water needed to be replaced every few minutes, since it took no time to turn the water grayish-brown.
Hating to ask it of her, Ginny knew a good way to get rid of lice was by cutting her hair. Not being much of a history buff, she seemed to remember that long hair was important during this era. “I need to cut your hair, to help get rid of the lice. If you don't want me to, I'll do my best, but can't promise anything.”
Aileana was silent for a moment. It seemed that she had lived through so much humiliation, what was one more thing. She had been growing her hair since childhood. Her golden brown tresses now reached to her backside and had waves of natural highlights. Alec loved her hair, loved the way it tickled his chest when she made love to him up top. For some reason, Aileana wanted it gone. She didn't feel beautiful anymore, so what did it matter. “Cut it,” came her whispered answer.
Ginny chopped her hair and began using the comb to remove the nits. Having a horrible dislike for most bugs, this duty was nearly overwhelming her. After every few minutes, Ginny would wash her hands to prevent them from transferring to her. Still, she thought she could feel them crawling over her, making her tremble.
Ginny was trying to think of some of the natural cures for lice and remembered something about oils. She knew there were several that you could use together, like lavender and olive. Thinking about the time period, there were few choices. Eucalyptus was definitely out, rosemary was a likely choice. Olive oil was probably ridiculously expensive and not likely available. In the end, Ginny did her best and would check what the supplies that soldier brings back from the keep.
When complete, Ginny asked, “Do you want me to fetch your husband?”
“Will I die soon?”
“What?” Ginny gasped. “I don't think your injuries are so serious that you'll die.”
“Would ya help me if I wanted to?” Her voice was desperate and tears filled her eyes. She knew that she would never be whole again and certainly didn't want her husband to live out his life with half a wife. Every night in that cell, she would pray for the end. Every morning she would be disappointed. Now, above all else, she wanted to sleep forever and let the pain finally disappear.
“I can't do that,” Ginny said quietly. “I will do anything else for you, but I won't help you die.”
“Then, yes, ya can fetch my husband for me.”
Ginny hesitated and stared at the woman lying on the ground. Aileana would not meet her gaze, but stared at the wall of the tent instead. Where there was companionable silence during the examination, now there was tension. Ginny couldn't give her what she wanted, so now she planned on asking her husband the same request. Ginny barely knew Alec, but it was pretty obvious he adored his wife. This request, made out of desperation and grief, was likely to destroy the man.
Ginny left the tent, and Aileana's request, to search for her husband. She didn't have to look far, since he was never out of sight of the tent. He strode over to her, with purposeful strides, looking hopeful. Ginny had trouble meeting his gaze at first, but forced some courage into her system and looked up. Alec saw it immediately and was stopped short in his tracks.
“No,” Alec whispered.
“Your wife will survive her injuries, I think.” Ginny paused, trying to think of the right words, “But I don't think she wants to.” The anguish that crossed Alec's face was like a body slam to Ginny. The air whooshed out of her lungs and she had trouble replacing it. It was one thing for someone to lose their battle against disease or injury, it was quite another for someone to give up. Aileana was giving up.
Alec looked confused. “What do ya mean? Will she live or no'?”
“Her injuries are superficial. The deeper wounds are things I can't heal. I think she's been praying for death for so long now that she's forgotten how to live.” Ginny didn't think she was making much sense to the man, but these were the only words she had to describe it. Surprisingly, Alec nodded his head and went to the tent. Before he entered, Ginny said, “I had to cut her hair. 'Cause of the lice. Try not to look surprised.”
He nodded back at her and entered the tent.
No sooner had he entered the tent, did Ian walk up behind Ginny. He moved so stealthily that she didn't hear him coming. When he spoke, Ginny jumped like a skittish cat. Ian grabbed her to keep her from falling on her face. With laughter in his voice, he asked, “Did I scare ya?”
Ginny was in no mood for games. She shook her head in disgust and asked, “Do any of your men require any healing? I've done all I can for Aileana.”
Hearing the depression in her voice, Ian asked gently, “Will she no' live?”
Not in any mood to explain it to him, Ginny shook her head. “She'll survive... but I don't know if she'll live.” With that, Ginny walked away trying to find someplace to be alone. From the moment she'd come to this place, she'd been going full tilt. Now, as exhaustion was closing in, she wanted a moment to be alone and breathe.
* Chapter 6 *
Everywhere she looked, there were warriors. They were preparing meals, tending to horses, tending to fires. There didn't seem to be two square inches for her to be by herself. On the far side of the camp, was a small stream that wound its way down from the ridge. She walked over and drank from the edge, using her cupped hand to hold the water.
Then she used the water to wash her face. Before she scooped up the water, Ginny saw her reflection and realized that she was in someone else's body. Her face was smaller, heart shaped with full lips and almond shaped eyes. She couldn't tell the color from her reflection. She had black hair, pulled back into a braid that ran the length of her back. Ginny had to admit that Lady Chatham was quite a beautiful girl. Of course she is , she thought, this is a romance novel, right? She'd already realized she was shorter, but seeing this was strange, overwhelming.
After the shock of realizing that she wasn't herself, Ginny used the water to wash off. The coolness of the water refreshed her again, but did nothing to soothe the ache in her heart for Aileana and Alec. As she stared at the beginning of the sunset, Ian approached her, making himself known early on so as to not scare her again.
“Some of my men could use yar skill. Minor injuries, but...” Ian stopped and just stared. He noticed that she was beautiful, but in the coming sunset, with the sun so bright on the horizon, she was breathtaking.
Ginny turned and looked at him. “Of course. Were you able to procure me any supplies from the keep?”
“Aye, Broderick found some things. I'll show ya the way.”
Ginny followed as closely behind as her legs would allow. Ian's legs were long and his strides purposeful. He scarcely glanced back to make sure she was keeping up. What a gentleman, Ginny thought as she started to double time it so as not to get lost.
Beside the tent for Aileana was another tent. Ian lifted the flap and motioned for Ginny to enter. Inside, there was a pallet on the ground for a makeshift bed and a bunch of old jars and bottles lined up along the one side. Ginny began to open the jars to try to discover what items Broderick had found. Nothing was labeled, of course, so Ginny was using her other senses to figure out the contents. Her gr
andmother, God rest her soul, was a huge fan of herbal remedies. Grannie would grow her own plants and mix them into potions and poultices that she would use on her neighbors, many of whom had no insurance and were happy for the help. Grannie passed on her knowledge to Ginny, who appreciated the time spent with her grandmother, but ended up pursing modern medicine instead.
Ginny found a needle and fine thread, good enough for stitches. She found what she thought was an opium based poultice that could be rubbed on a wound. Ginny had to give these people credit. Although they were working with very little knowledge compared to Ginny's standards, they were very resourceful with their treatment methods. Of course, nothing could replace decent hygiene for eliminating many of the ails of the day.
Ginny poked her head out of the tent and asked Ian for a few more things, “I need some hot and cold water. Also, can I have boiling water to put a few things in to sterilize them?”
“Ya want to what?” Ian asked, looking confused. In the short time he'd known this woman, she'd spoken oddly, even for the English, but he attributed it to her youth. Now, she wasn't making any sense at all.
“I need to clean the needle and thread. Boiling water will do the best job. Please,” Ginny looked at Ian hoping he would just do it and not ask a lot of questions.
“Aye,” was all he said.
As Ginny continued to investigate her booty, her first patient walked into the tent. Ginny was taken back by how young he looked. The boy, no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, was a tall, gangly creature with bright red hair and freckles that covered every inch of his body. He looked reluctant to be there.
“Hi there. My name is Ginny. What seems to be the problem?” Ginny tried to sound as friendly as possible so this kid didn't think she was going to hurt him.
The boy kept looking at everything but her. He would open his mouth, then quickly close it again. Then he would shuffle his feet, clear his throat and rub his hands together. Ginny continued to stare at him, but was afraid to say anything more since he looked like he was about to bolt.
As softly as possible, she turned to the boy and said, “I can't help you if you don't talk to me. I mean you no harm and will be very gentle.”
With that, the boy's head popped up and he looked angry. He spat out, “I am not afraid of ya. How dare ya think such a thing.”
“Alright then... boy... what can I do for you?” Ginny emphasized the “boy,” to show him that she was not afraid of him either.
He sneered and began to walk out of the tent, when he suddenly came back in, followed closely by Ian. The boy stood before the laird and bowed his head. He looked somewhat terrified of Ian, not that Ginny could blame him.
“Have ya been fixed already, Ronald? Ya were no' in here so long.” A smile came across Ian's face like he was in on a joke that Ginny was not privy too. It did not take long for her to find out what was so funny.
“Ronald here slipped and fell during the battle. He needs some stitching done to his arse.”
With the bright red hair and freckles, it was hard to believe that Ronald could get any redder. However, here the poor boy stood, practically glowing from the embarrassment. Ian looked quite proud of himself for discomfiting the young warrior. Like the army, you have to break them down, before building them back up. Obviously, Ian was still breaking this one down.
“Very well, please lie down on your stomach on the blanket and I'll take a look,” Ginny went into professional mode. She'd seen every kind of naked body and it didn't faze her in the least. Of course, this boy didn't know that.
Ronald shot a pleading look at Ian, who continued to stare back at him. When Ronald didn't move, Ian raised one eyebrow as if to say, “Well.” Ronald lowered himself to the floor and covered his face in his hands.
“I know ya willnae disgrace yarself or me, Ronald. I will stay here to make sure the lass does a good job.” With that, Ian turned to Ginny and waved her to continue.
Ginny knelt beside the boy and lifted his kilt. He had a nasty slash across his right cheek. “What did you land on, Ronald?” Ginny would often make idle chitchat to comfort her patients. She found that if they were talking, they tended not to be as scared.
“A scythe,” was the only answer he would give.
Ginny cleaned the wound as best she could, getting any debris out. She used the anesthetic she found to dull the pain of the needle. Then, as she'd done a thousand times before, under far better conditions, Ginny began to sew up the wound. She was surprised that the boy never flinched or cried out in pain. Ginny didn't think she would be so calm under the same circumstances.
When completed, she covered the wound as best as she could without any tape. “You need to clean the wound with soap and water at least three times a day. You need to keep it dry and covered until it's time to take the stitches out.”
Ginny barely got the instructions out before the boy bolted from the tent. She stared at the tent opening and began to giggle over the situation. She honestly felt bad for the boy, but he was practically purple by the time she'd finished. To avoid looking at Ian, who would probably send her into grand fits of laughter, Ginny walked over to the water and carefully washed her hands. She didn't have any soap, but used some of the alcohol she found among the items Broderick brought back.
Once composed, Ginny turned to ask Ian if there would be any more patients. As she turned, she saw another man walk into the tent. “Hello, what can I do for you?” Ginny noticed a large number of warriors right outside the tent opening, all staring inside.
“I have been hurt, my lady,” the warrior said, with a gleam in his eye.
“Okay, where have you been injured?”
“Why, on my dallywag, my lady,” the warrior said with a big smile on his face.
Ginny had an idea where this was going. One of the first jobs she had out of school was an ER in downtown Phoenix. She'd treated her share of drunk college students who couldn't quite navigate a curb. Most would be all too proud to show off their goods, especially to the female staff. Ginny put on her game face and asked the obvious question, “And what, sir, is a dallywag?”
“This,” the warrior screamed and lifted the front of his kilt, laughing uproariously with his comrades behind him. When he finally took a breath, Ginny looked unamused.
In a loud enough voice so all the gang could hear, she examined his private area and exclaimed, “I can see what the problem is... you obviously lost most of it during the battle!”
The laughter died in seconds, but suddenly, all the men outside the tent began to roar again with laughter. The warrior in the tent immediately dropped his kilt back down, turned a bright shade of red and snarled at her like an animal whose food was threatened. If he thought he could intimidate her, he was mistaken.
“I'm sorry, sir, but my skills are not that good. I'm afraid I can't help you,” Ginny put on her sweet smile and turned her back on him. Let him stew in that for while, arrogant bastard , she thought to herself as she continued to inventory her supplies.
She felt him approach, before she heard him. As she turned, the warrior grabbed her by the arms and began to shake her. Ginny couldn't break free, since this guy was a good foot taller and weighed at least a hundred pounds more than her. So, she did the only thing she could do: she screamed.
A few seconds later, Ian walked into the tent. In a flash, Ginny was on the ground and the warrior was hurled out of the tent. Ian followed him out and began yelling in Gaelic. Ginny picked herself up and walked to the opening of the tent to watch. Ian said something about respect and protection. God, she hoped he meant for them to respect and protect her. The troublemaker began to speak to the laird quietly, while gesturing toward Ginny. She couldn't make out anything he said, but figured he was defending his actions because of Ginny's insult. She rolled her eyes in response.
Ian barked some orders at the men and they took off running. Then he turned to Ginny with fire in his eyes. Great, what now , Ginny thought glumly. She was in for something, t
hat was for sure.
Ian walked over to the tent and grabbed Ginny's arm to drag her back in. When safely inside, Ian turned Ginny toward him and grabbed both arms as the other warrior had done. Ginny winced at the soreness that would be bruises by tomorrow. When Ian saw her grimace, he released her immediately.
“What were ya thinking? He coulda killed ya for yar insult.”
Ginny's eyes widened. “Exactly what should I have done. He comes in here to try to shock me. Was I supposed to run out of the tent and scream 'Penis, oh my God, a penis.'” Ginny finished her a brilliant “damsel in distress” voice.
It was Ian's turn to look shocked. It lasted only a moment before he regained his composure. “And what do ya know of men's bodies?” His voice was mocking her, like he already knew she was pure. What he didn't know was that this body was pure, but the mind was not.
“I have treated many men for many different reasons. I am not so easily shocked as you or your men might think. My behavior toward your man was in response to his behavior towards me. I certainly don't think insulting him was unreasonable,” Ginny always thought she could have been a good lawyer.
Ian stared at Ginny blankly, but his jaw was tightening. This woman has no idea what she is in for , he thought to himself. However, he knew that if she was tough enough, she might just survive his clan. With a smile on his face, he said, “Aye, his behavior warranted an insult. And the one ya gave was... decent. However, ya must hold yar tongue. It will get ya in a heap of trouble if yar no' careful.”
“I have little doubt of that,” Ginny replied. This was a dangerous situation for her. Ginny often started to speak before thinking about what she was going to say. And currently, the people around her would be very unforgiving. Still, it was fun to play with them.
Ian stared at her for another minute, then turned and left the tent. Ginny followed close behind and asked, “I take it that there are no more of your men who will have me heal them.”
A Lesson in Passion Page 5
