‘Why do you smile so seldom?’
Lynelle couldn’t have been more stunned if the world turned upside down and dropped her on her head. She searched William’s face, sure he must be jesting. She delved deep into his troubled, serious gaze.
‘Is it an offence to not smile in Scotland?’ She wished she could bite off her tongue the moment the caustic remark fell from her dry lips.
‘Nae. But you should find a reason to smile more often. It becomes you.’
He reached past her then and opened the door. She hesitated before spinning on her heel and marching from the chamber. Pushing her door wide, she sailed into her room, turned to close the door and came face to face with William.
‘Till the morn, healer.’
‘Good night, Sir.’
He stepped out into the corridor, pulling the panel with him as he withdrew. Lynelle was certain she heard a mumbled ‘Sweet dreams’ before the latch clicked into place.
Wandering to the table, she set down her sack.
Why do you smile so seldom?
She smiled often. Didn’t she?
Lifting a hand to her mouth, she traced her lips with her fingers. Thin. Tight. She closed her eyes and William’s image filled the dark void behind her lids. Her frown loosened, eased. The taut flesh beneath her fingertips relaxed. Her lips softened.
A gentle shiver rippled through her heart.
She’d never had reason to smile, but now...
Chapter 17
‘IS something wrong, Will?’
Edan’s question broke into William’s harsh thoughts. He forced his feet to halt their incessant pacing and looked at his brother.
God’s blood. Everything is wrong.
He’d barely caught a wink of sleep last night and every time he’d found the elusive state, he’d soon woken in a lather of sweat, rock hard and wanting.
‘Nae, Edan. Naught is wrong.’
Spearing his fingers through his hair, he silently cursed the healer and her pouting lips. Full, soft lips that in his slumber smiled constantly for him.
‘Aye, Will. Whatever you say.’
William walked to Edan and sat on the side of the bed. ‘I didn’t sleep well, lad.’
‘You don’t need to stay with me every moment of the day, Will. I’m not a bairn.’
Peering into his brother’s grey eyes, William noticed the clouded frustration caused by his infirmity, along with a hint of sadness. ‘I spend my time here because I want to,’ he said. ‘All know as well as I that you’re far from being a babe.’
‘At least have a pallet brought in then, instead of sleeping in a chair.’
‘The chair suits me. I think idleness is to blame for my poor sleep. But as I told you, I have a few things needing done this day and Mary will be back soon to keep you company while I’m gone.’
A light tapping at the door signalled Mary’s arrival. William stood. ‘Enter.’
Mary sailed into the room, with Lynelle close at her heels. As she’d done the previous night, the healer glanced to the window and then the hearth. Was she searching for him? Turning, her gaze found him and she noticeably stiffened.
‘Good morn, gentlemen,’ she said, approaching the bed.
‘Good morn, Lynelle.’ Edan’s face visibly brightened.
‘How are you feeling, Edan?’
‘Much better now, thank you.’ The lad was definitely easily influenced by a pretty face.
Her mouth tilted up at the corners as she looked down at his brother and William caught a glimpse of white teeth between her soft lips. Those damn lips had tortured him the whole night through. His hands curled into fists.
She shifted, using the table to mix Edan’s brew. The fragile smile still hovered about her mouth – a smile for his brother, never for him.
He turned away at the black thought and found Mary staring at him with an all-knowing look on her kind, annoying face.
The healer sipped and passed the potion across to him. He drank and waited a moment before allowing Edan to drain the vessel.
‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ he said, gently squeezing Edan’s shoulder. His brother nodded, but William didn’t miss the disappointment in his eyes.
‘I’ll see you this evening, Edan,’ the healer said and headed for the door.
William followed and Mary sidled over to him and whispered in his ear. ‘You shouldn’t frown so. You’ll frighten the lassies and the children.’
He glared at her and closed the door firmly behind him.
‘Is there anything you need to fetch to tend Elspeth?’ he asked Lynelle as they stood alone in the dim corridor.
‘I have everything here,’ she said, indicating her sack.
‘Good. Let’s away then.’
They descended the stairs and upon reaching the great hall, William paused to assess the two men seated on a bench at the far side of the room.
‘If there is something you wish to do, I will wait here for you.’
‘Nae. All seems as it should be.’ He caught her questioning look as he gestured for her to precede him out into the courtyard. ‘I have given Donald the pleasure of watching over Dougal while he numbs his pain.’ Still she appeared confused. ‘Consumes a generous measure of ale.’
‘Oh.’ Her frown disappeared. ‘Has he begun already?’
‘He started at dawn.’ Her large, blue eyes rounded before she peered skyward. ‘Aye. Two full hours have passed and nae doubt half a cask of Closeburn’s fine heather ale, too.’ They strode through the massive timber gates standing ajar and trod the slight slope down to the pier.
‘Lord above. He’ll be insensible for days.’
‘Not likely. With Dougal’s size, it takes the man a full day and copious amounts of the heady brew to even dampen his wits.’ William aided her into the boat Geordie held steady, and then found his seat once she’d settled on the plank opposite.
‘It’s just as well he’s made an early start, then.’
‘Aye.’ He scanned his lands, anything to divert his attention from the woman throwing numerous fleeting glances his way.
Something in her manner had changed.
Her gaze continued to settle on him frequently, when prior to last night she’d done her best to avoid looking at him.
Last eve, when her fingers brushed his, she hadn’t jerked away, hadn’t gasped or lowered her lashes as they dressed Edan’s injuries. But he’d witnessed her trembling and he’d recognized the awakening desire shimmering in the depths of her troubled sapphire eyes.
His groin stirred at the memory, and a rush of heat pulsed through his veins, just as it had last eve.
The boat docked and William shot to his feet. They climbed ashore, and with a nod to Geordie they headed for the village.
‘Is it difficult being laird?’
The soft, breathless sound of her voice made him turn and he noticed her efforts to keep even with his brisk stride. He slowed his pace.
‘It must be like having a mountain sitting on your chest. So much responsibility for so many.’
‘I wasn’t born to be laird,’ he said. ‘Nor raised.’
A look of astonishment appeared on her flushed face. ‘If not you, then who?’
‘My brother.’ His heated blood ran cold, chilling him and banishing his swelling arousal.
‘Edan?’
‘Nae. Roger.’
‘You have another brother?’
‘Had.’ His chest tightened as he uttered the single word. Thankfully, she held silent for several moments, giving him time to release the painful breath trapped in his throat.
‘When did Roger pass?’
Pass? She made it sound like some peaceful, gentle thing.
‘He died last autumn.’ On a day drenched in sunshine. ‘Their boat overturned in the loch.’
‘Their?’
‘His wife was with him. She was carrying their first child. It would have been born this spring.’
Her gasp echoed in his ears, reminding him
of Roger’s battle to breathe when he’d dragged him from the water.
‘Three lost all at once.’
‘Nae. Only two. Margaret was already gone when I pulled her from the loch. Roger survived for two days more.’
‘Dear God. To hold such hope...’
‘Not hope,’ he cut in. ‘Roger gave up the moment he learned the fate of his wife and unborn babe.’ Fury spiked in his heart and he clenched his fists till his knuckles ached.
‘‘Tis not your fault,’ she said quietly.
‘Nae. ‘Tis Roger’s.’
‘You are vexed at him for dying?’ She sounded incredulous.
‘He didn’t have to die. He gave up, sought death rather than to live without his wife.’
‘He must have held a great love for her,’ she said softly.
‘Aye, but he had us. He could have lived for Edan’s sake. For mine.’
Horrified by what he’d revealed, William stopped and turned in her path. His face close to hers, he said, ‘You go too far. None of this is your concern.’
‘You said I judged you an ogre without knowing you,’ she said, staring up at him. ‘A misdeed that shames me deeply. But now when I attempt to know you, to understand you, you tell me I go too far.’
He scowled. ‘Perhaps it would be best if you see me as the monster you first believed me to be.’
‘I didn’t truly think you were a monster,’ she cried.
‘Of course not,’ he scoffed. ‘Yet you were prepared to march straight to the dungeon where you believed I was escorting you.’
‘I was prepared to suffer whatever punishment you named, because I’d erred. Not because I thought you a monster.’
William stared down into blue eyes brimming with truth and dismay. Her defence of him added to the burden of trying to draw air into his constricted lungs. A malady she seemed to be suffering too, by the swift rise and fall of her cloaked chest.
‘What if I confessed to being the fiend you so prettily defend?’ His voice rang low, his heartbeat quickened as he awaited her reply.
Her tongue darted out to moisten lush pink lips as her gaze searched his face.
‘I would still wish to know you and make my own judgment,’ she finally said.
Little fool. His heart hammered. He fought the urge to crush her against him and plunder her mouth with his, to prove a beast did indeed lurk inside him. He allowed a hint of ravenous lust to show in his eyes. She swallowed, but stood her ground.
‘I have seen monsters portrayed as men,’ she said with quiet confidence. ‘I do not think you are one of them.’
William clenched his jaw, rattled by the calm words and the decisive look in her unblinking eyes. God’s blood. The troublesome wench had turned his attempt to unsettle her back upon him.
She is a healer and an English one, he reminded himself sternly. ‘Come,’ he ground out. ‘Elspeth will wonder what keeps us.’
They covered what little distance remained to Elspeth’s cottage, and he scooped Carney up and onto his shoulders as the lad dashed out to greet them. The unnerving woman entered the cottage while he carried his wriggling burden around the back in search of Ian.
William’s tension soon eased as he watched his young clansman strain with the honest labour of working the patch of land marked for planting. The boatman turned farmer set aside his shovel at Carney’s call and approached, wiping the sweat from his brow.
‘Morn, laird,’ he said with a smile.
‘Ian.’ William gave him a nod. ‘Your new duties seem to please you.’
‘It’s harder than pulling oars, but aye, it suits me.’
William didn’t doubt having Keita nearby fuelled Ian’s grin.
‘Is Lynelle tending Elspeth?’
William nodded, his mouth tightening at the sound of the woman’s name on another man’s lips.
‘I’ll fetch you a log to rest your legs while you wait, then.’ Ian started for the pile of chopped wood neatly stacked under the lean-to.
‘Don’t bother, Ian. I’ll not be here long.’
‘Ah.’
‘What?’ William asked, lifting Carney from his shoulders and setting the fidgety lad on his feet.
‘Well. Keita mentioned some of the womenfolk from the village have come to call. She says they heard about Lynelle tending her mother and are keen for her to...well, to see to their ills, too.’
William stared hard at Ian for another long moment before his gaze shifted to the thatched cottage close by. A feeling of betrayal swelled inside him. But hot on its heels came the knowledge that his clansmen needed aid, the kind of aid he couldn’t provide. Some of them, like Elspeth and Dougal, were suffering, had been left unattended for too long.
Because of him.
His gut churned. Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply. When he opened them, he looked into Ian’s worried face and said, ‘Come. We’ll finish turning the soil together.’ He ignored Ian’s surprised expression and headed for the uneven turf.
Perhaps a bout of physical labour would settle his stomach. If only it was so easy to dismiss the guilt pricking his soul.
***
William noticed the flush in the healer’s cheeks as they left the village and followed the familiar path back to Closeburn Castle. He perused the clear sky, noting the sun wasn’t far off reaching its peak, and savoured the slight tightening in the muscles of his arms. It seemed an age since he’d exerted himself physically, an eternity since he’d practiced with his sword.
He peered down at the smooth hilt his fingers played over. An excuse to avoid staring at the wisps of red-gold hair defying the healer’s tight-woven braid and curling about her face and ears. Curls he longed to wind about his itching fingers. Ears he’d readily trace with his tongue.
God’s eyes. He’d arrange a bout of swordplay with Donald the moment he set foot inside the keep. Right after he rid Dougal of his blasted diseased tooth.
The iron yett yawned open, granting them entrance and his steward met them with a haunted look on his face. ‘Ah, Will. ‘Tis glad I am you’ve finally returned.’
‘What ails you, Malcolm?’ Then William heard it. A pitiful wailing echoed from inside the great hall. Malcolm’s neck seemed to disappear as his shoulders lifted in attempt to cover his ears.
‘He’s been at it for the past hour,’ the older man said. ‘The servants refuse to set out the tables and the kitchen maids say they cannot dress the trestles if they’re still upended against the walls.’
‘Who is it? They must be in dreadful pain.’
William glanced down at the woman straining her neck to peer around him. ‘It’s wee Dougal,’ he said, cringing, as another string of wailing rang from the chamber within. ‘He’s murdering an old Scots ballad.’
‘Oh.’
‘I suggest we end his misery and thereby end our own.’
‘Oh, of course,’ she said. ‘But I need to fetch the pincers from the healing room.’
Turning back to Malcolm, William said, ‘Kindly escort the healer below. I’ll see to Dougal.’
Donald stood from the bench seat he shared with Dougal, a pained expression on his face. ‘Saints be praised you’re here.’
‘Perhaps you should have shared a cup or three with the wee lad,’ William said.
‘Aye,’ Donald said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘‘Tis a shame the idea didn’t tweak earlier.’
‘Hooo,’ Dougal breathed, peering up at William through a slack-jawed smile. ‘Hellooo, laird. Have a pint wi’ me, heeey?’
‘Christ.’ William turned his head. The fumes wafting up from the man burned his eyes and were enough to send a full-grown ox to the floor. ‘Thanks, Dougal, but I’ll pass for now.’
‘Suit yourssself... ‘ Squint-eyed, he peered past William. ‘Hellooo, Lynelle, have a pint wi’ me.’
William turned to see her smile at the beaming, drunken souse, before looking at him. ‘Malcolm has gone to fetch a few stout men to hold Dougal steady.’ She set a flaming candle down on
the trestle at the far end and turned to Dougal.
‘I need you to lie on the table, so we can remove your troublesome tooth.’
Dougal didn’t move, didn’t even blink.
Malcolm shuffled in with two men from the kitchen. Amid a chorus of grunts and groans, Malcolm, the two burly men and William heaved Dougal’s bulk onto the table. The hopeless drunk’s smile never wavered.
‘Thank you all,’ the healer said. ‘If you can grasp a limb each to ensure Dougal doesn’t move, we can have this unsavoury business done with.’
William accepted the odd-looking instrument she offered, his hand tightening around the cold metal. God above. He prayed she knew what she was doing.
‘Dougal, you need to open your mouth and remain completely still,’ she said gently to the grinning drunkard staring up at her.
She waved William closer and held the lit taper above Dougal’s gaping jaw. ‘I will point out the tooth you need to pull,’ she said softly. Her sweet breath fanned his face. ‘Do you see it?’ He forced his gaze from the smooth turn of her cheek and peered into Dougal’s mouth. ‘On the left, the one with the hole in the centre.’
‘Aye. I see it.’
‘Good. Please be sure you have a firm hold with the pincers before you pull.’
He slowly lifted his gaze until it rested on her face once more. ‘I’ll do my best.’ He heard her swallow, but she kept her eyes downcast.
William looked down again to his task and a smattering of unease trickled through him. Firming his grip on the tool, he found a comfortable hold with his fingers and forced the metal jaws open.
‘Be still,’ she urged Dougal, cupping his grizzly cheek with her free hand.
William shifted his stance, groping for a firm hold on the tooth.
‘Tilt your head forward a mite,’ she said to the prostrate man, allowing William better access.
The implement’s jaws slid and then found purchase on either side of the decayed tooth. Holding his breath, William squeezed the pincer’s handles tight and pulled with all his might. After an initial resistance, the tooth came free with only a slight grunt from Dougal. William stared at the ruined tooth clutched in the tool’s steel jaws, long roots tinged grey with disease and red with blood.
The Healer Page 15
