The Healer

by Allison Butler

  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.

  Chapter 16

  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.

  Lynelle grasped the candle, stepped closer and with gentle fingers she tilted his head to allow her a better view. A rank odour rushed out to greet her as Dougal expelled a breath. Not even the mint or pungent scent of the feverfew could mask the smell of diseased flesh. Blinking the tears from her stinging eyes, she moved the candle higher until she found what she was looking for.

  The problem tooth was positioned half way along the left side of his lower jaw. A gaping hole in the tooth’s centre stared back at her and the gum cradling the rotten tooth flamed a fiery red.

  She straightened, put down the lit candle and moved to where she’d set aside the leather satchels she’d found earlier.

  ‘Did you find the troublesome tooth?’ Mary asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said absently, unrolling the soft, worn leather. ‘And I believe I can fix it.’ Staring at the strange metal implements tucked safely in the satchel’s folds, she bypassed the long, thin knife and blanched at the thick, jagged-edged blade in the next pocket.

  ‘How?’ Dougal’s mumbled question snapped her attention to the third metal instrument. Drawing it from its niche, she studied the two grasping jaws that opened and closed as she worked the two short handles, the feel of the cold steel seeping into her fingers. She replaced the tool and looked over at Dougal.

  ‘Firstly, I will make more of the cleansing wash. You must rinse your mouth again thoroughly this eve and then again in the morn. It would be best to ease the swelling before we proceed further.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Then I suggest you consume a generous amount of ale.’

  ‘What?’ Dougal groaned and cupped his jaw with his massive hand. Mary patted his huge shoulder, but Lynelle could see the same question painted on her kind face.

  Shifting closer, she peered into Dougal’s distressed eyes. ‘The tooth has to be removed, Dougal, or your pain will only worsen.’

  She heard him swallow. ‘Why not just do it now, eh?’

  ‘As I said, ‘tis best to allow time to reduce the swelling and...I also need to garner someone’s help.’


  Dougal heaved a resigned sigh and said, ‘The morrow it is, then.’

  ‘Give me a moment to prepare your mouth tonic.’

  She quickly blended the crushed herb, mint and salt in with the remaining wine. She gave Dougal the jug, repeating her instructions, all the while avoiding Mary’s inquisitive eyes and willing the giddiness in her belly to disappear. She knew its cause, but had no wish to discuss it with the steward’s wife.

  It was one thing to spend time with William to find out more about him, but having to ask for his help meant giving him an opening to ask something about her. Was she willing to reveal her well-kept secrets to aid Dougal? She had the skills to rid him of his pain and couldn’t allow him to continue suffering.

  The last time she’d asked William for help it had been a ruse. This time, she truly did need his aid. She needed his strength. In the process, if it assisted in restoring his faith in the healing arts, so much the better.

  Selfishly, and to her own consternation, she was pleased that having him assist her also gave her the chance to spend more time in his company.

  Perhaps her plunge into Castle Loch the previous day had affected her ability to hold sensible thoughts. Or maybe, she’d just experienced her first.

  ***

  Invisible sprites danced a jig in Lynelle’s stomach as she returned to her chamber and wrestled with the enormity of asking William for help. Would he refuse? Perhaps concentrating on mundane tasks would distract her and calm her.

  Pouring water from the ewer into the basin, she quickly splashed the dust from her face and was securing the ends of her re-braided hair when Mary delivered her trencher.

  The meal of stuffed pheasant, turnip and greens looked delicious, but worry for how William would react curbed her hunger. She picked at her food and then checked her herbs, adding some of the boiled and dried bandages to her sack.

  She stared at the door and pressed a splayed hand to her middle in an effort to settle the mingled anticipation and trepidation welling inside her. The waiting seemed worse than the imagined outcome.

  Thankfully, Mary soon came and ushered her into Edan’s chamber. On entering, she looked to the wall near the window and then glanced at the hearth, the places William usually occupied when she arrived. The places she’d always avoided looking before.

  Her breath stalled in her throat. Both places stood empty. The trapped air in her lungs rushed out as she focused on the muscular, plaid-draped figure bent over the bed.

  Dark eyes turned from his task of unravelling the bandages from Edan’s chest and latched onto her. Her breath hitched again and her heartbeat thundered at a rapid pace.

  ‘Thank you, Mary.’ His gaze never strayed from her. ‘We will manage from here.’

  The soft click announced Mary’s departure and distracted Lynelle enough to stop her ridiculous gawking. She moved to the unoccupied side of the bed.

  ‘Good eve...gentlemen,’ she said, not certain how the laird’s name would sound coming from her lips.

  ‘Hello, Lynelle,’ Edan responded cheerfully.

  ‘Good eve,’ William said.

  She wondered if he too found it awkward to speak her name aloud.

  ‘How are you feeling, Edan?’ She unpacked all she needed from her sack.

  ‘Mostly fine,’ he replied. ‘But my leg itches something fierce.’

  ‘A sign your wound is healing well,’ she assured him with a smile.

  ‘It is?’

  ‘For certain,’ she said, grinding the herbs for his potion, while furtively watching William’s long, capable fingers unwind the dressing from his brother’s thigh. ‘It proves your skin is stretching as the wound grows smaller.’

  ‘Praise Saint Patrick,’ he spouted on a sigh.

  Lynelle’s lips twitched at his exaggerated relief and she flicked a glance at William. Her tiny smile froze when she found him staring at her mouth. Her smile slipped. His gaze lifted to hers. For several missed breaths she peered back. But when a fine sheen of sweat erupted over every inch of her skin and her lungs screamed for air, she ducked her head and finished making the tonic.

  Dear God above. The man was a danger to her health.

  And a trigger to her senses.

  She sipped the brew and offered it to William, forcing herself to look at him. If she expected his help with Dougal and wanted to know him better, she needed to be able to make eye contact without turning away every time their eyes met.

  He watched her as he drank.

  Breathe. Hold still. Breathe. Hold still.

  William looked down at Edan and passed him the cup. The shift of his focus eased some of the tension throughout Lynelle’s body, but her stomach remained taut as she bathed Edan’s exposed thigh wound, pleased to see it was indeed healing. Retrieving the pot of salve, she painted the back of her hand with the ointment and drew a deep breath before turning to William.

  As she coated his inner wrist with the decoction, she returned his stare and prayed he didn’t notice, couldn’t feel her trembling.

  ‘Enough. See to Edan.’ William almost growled.

  Lynelle smeared Edan’s injury, using the last of Iona’s salve. ‘I will cover your wound tonight, but as of tomorrow you will no longer need the ointment applied and therefore it won’t be necessary to bandage your leg.’

  ‘You truly mean it?’

  ‘Yes, and perhaps in a day or two, after I remove the stitches, I may allow you to stand – with assistance, of course.’

  ‘Did you hear that, Will?’ Excitement rang in his tone. ‘I’ll be up and about before you know it.’

  ‘Aye, lad. Aside from you, nae one is more pleased than I.’

  ‘Your arm and ribs will take longer to fully mend.’ She loathed causing the small frown of disappointment creasing Edan’s brow, but he had to understand it wasn’t only his leg that needed to heal.

  ‘How long then?’ he asked, sounding frustrated.

  ‘As long as it takes, lad.’

  William’s intervention surprised her, and pleased her. His gaze lifted from his brother and settled on her. She gave a small nod to indicate her gratitude. He returned the gesture, stunning her further. A spark of hope flickered to life. He just might help her.

  Once again, they worked together, binding Edan’s ills and hurts. But each time William’s fingers accidentally brushed hers, she didn’t withdraw and avert her gaze. Instead she paused, savouring the tingling heat, allowed it to almost run its course before casting her eyes upon him to discern if he noticed or if he too was affected.

  Every fleeting lull prolonged the bandaging process and by the time they were done, she had to hide her laboured breathing and desperately wished to fall in the loch to cool her heated body.

  William showed not a single outward sign that he was suffering anything remotely similar to her burning breathlessness. Not until he straightened and bestowed his full attention on her. His fierce regard, so intense, turned his eyes a shade barely shy of black.

  Under the guise of packing up her herbs, she groped for something to support her, as her knees threatened to buckle. But even as she fumbled and struggled to remain on her feet, a whisper thread of excitement entwined around her heart.

  She wasn’t alone. William felt it too.

  Snuffling, open-mouthed snores floated up from the bed, signalling that Edan had already slipped into slumber. She gathered the remnants of her physical strength and her rattled wits and headed for the chamber’s exit, knowing well the laird would follow.

  She turned and faced him. ‘I have a request.’

  He stopped an arm’s length from where she stood – a short arm, by the warmth she could feel radiating from his lean form.

  ‘I am listening.’ His eyes smouldered deepest charcoal.

  ‘One of your men, Dougal, has a putrid tooth that must be removed.’

  ‘And?’

  It had been easier to look at him with a bed holding his brother’s sleeping form between them. She licked her suddenly dr
y lips. ‘I have given him a herbal rinse to cleanse his mouth tonight and once more in the morn. I then instructed him to consume a good measure of ale afterward to cloud the pain when the tooth is taken.’

  ‘I am sure wee Dougal did not argue against that particular command.’

  ‘Well, no. He didn’t.’

  ‘Please go on.’

  ‘Yes, well. I am confident as to which tooth is causing him such distress –’

  ‘Nae doubt the lad will be eternally grateful.’

  ‘If you will stop interrupting me, I can make my request and find my bed.’ Ignoring the tightening around his mouth, she continued. ‘I have the necessary tool to extract the tooth, but I lack the physical strength needed to pull it out.’

  Staring down at her, his lips compressed and a muscle flexed along his shadowed jaw.

  For a heartbeat, she wanted to stomp her foot. ‘Well?’

  ‘Have I permission to speak?’

  ‘Of course. Will you help me or not?’

  ‘You want me to pull Dougal’s putrid tooth?’ His dark brows thundered down in a scowl.

  ‘He is your clansman.’

  ‘God’s teeth,’ he said, tipping his head back.

  ‘No. Dougal is the one with the problem tooth.’ Her lips twitched.

  His head snapped forward and his stony gaze bore into hers. The hint of humour caused by her last remark withered and died in her chest.

  ‘He is in pain,’ she said softly. ‘He needs your help.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said, spearing his fingers through his hair. ‘I’ll do it, after we return from the village.’

  ‘The village?’

  ‘Aye. I’ve decided to escort you to Elspeth each day until she has recovered.’

  ‘Oh. I...thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. That’s your punishment for stealing out of my keep.’

  Angels of mercy. Did he think she’d view having him conduct her to tend Elspeth each day a penalty?

  ‘One more thing before you find your bed.’

  She stiffened. ‘I know the routine. You have agreed to my request and will now ask a simple question.’ Although she’d expected it, she couldn’t hide the trace of bitterness and underlying fear of what he might want most to know. She squared her shoulders and looked directly into his beautiful, slate-coloured eyes.