“You don’t. I would need a syringe, a type of needle, to get it out, but they broke on the trip.”
“What are these wee things?”
“Bandages. Small portable ones that will stick to your skin.” She held up one of the bandages so he could look at in the light. “They have an adhesive on the back to make them stick to your skin. It keeps the dirt from getting into a wound. It would be beneficial for you in the lists. If a man has a cut, it might keep it from turning bad. You’ve seen wounds that get all full of pus? White stuff and green stuff?”
He nodded.
“Well, these could prevent that from happening.”
“Why did ye bring all these things to ward off sickness? Are ye that worried about getting sick?”
That statement made her realize something a bit frightening. “I’m not worried about me. I brought them for my sisters in case they needed help.”
“So ye would no’ use these things if ye needed them?”
Dammit, she was just one giant caregiver, wasn’t she? To her patients, to her dad and his diabetes, and now to her sisters. “No, I’d save these things for them.”
“They’re more important than ye?”
She scowled, not knowing how to answer his question. Fortunately, he didn’t wait for her answer.
“Nae more dick covers?”
“No. You know what that means…”
His expression turned serious. “Tell me ye won’t go yet. Stay a little longer.”
She turned her head away. “I’ll go to some neighboring clans with you to look for Caroline and Hannah, but if I don’t hear of any new lasses nearby, I’d like to go back.”
“I’ll plan a trip to Murray land for the morrow, but ye should wait for the next festival before ye go.”
“Festival?”
“Aye, we have a festival in a sennight. The one where the women are allowed. ‘Twould be yer best opportunity to look for yer sisters. All the neighboring clans will be there.”
“All right. I’ll stay, but just to look for my sisters.”
He arched a brow at her. “But no dick covers…what will we do?”
She scowled, only because she knew that would be difficult for her.
“There are other ways, as ye know, lass. I need not plant my seed in ye to make ye yell my name.” He whispered the last part so close to her ear that she shivered, but she pulled away, not wanting to hop back into bed with him just yet.
She pasted a smile on her face and said, “Of course there are.” However, she had no willpower around him. She knew what he did to her. She’d be begging him in no time.
No time at all. She would not get pregnant in the fourteenth century.
He brushed her arm and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to the hall so I dinnae do what I shouldnae at the moment.”
As soon as he left, her gut clenched. It wasn’t his quick departure that upset her, but the revelation he’d brought out of her—she cared more for her sisters than she did for herself. Something was wrong with that.
Why didn’t she like herself?
***
The next morning, Brann led a group toward Murray land. He’d given everyone strict instructions on how they were to conduct themselves, especially Allison. He still feared some fool would try to steal her away and marry her, which was part of the reason he’d insisted she ride in front of him.
The other reason he didn’t like to admit. He liked being close to her.
He noticed her gaze searched far and wide as they rode, probably hoping to see one of her sisters. He didn’t blame her. He’d do the same if he were in her shoes.
He’d comb the island from one coastline to the other if Lachie ever went missing. Even Taran’s disappearance would affect him more than he cared to admit. This he decided to ignore.
Taran was dead to him.
They drew closer to the gates, and Brann waved his hand to indicate the horses needed to slow down. Something wasn’t right. Murray guards always greeted anyone who approached their land.
No one had greeted them today.
He had a sick feeling in his gut as he approached the gate, which only worsened when one warrior, pale in color, came out to greet him.
“I’m here to visit yer chieftain.”
The warrior leaned on the curtain wall, clutching the stones as if to prevent a fall. “Go home, MacKay. We’re all sick. If ye come in, ye’ll be sick, too.”
Brann motioned for his men to turn around. He couldn’t put his men through the same sickness or a different one either. “We’ll return in two days.”
Allison didn’t agree with his decision. “Wait, Brann. If it’s the same sickness you had, we can’t catch it.”
Angus said, “I’ll stay out here.”
Brann arched his brow at her.
“Fine. Help me down and I’ll go see by myself.”
“Nay, I dinnae want ye going inside,” Brann said. “Ye’ll risk getting us all sick.”
Allison said, “Brann, I can’t explain it all to you, but just trust me. I need to see if I can help at all.”
“Nay.” He was not about to risk her safety. She’d just have to follow his orders.
She twisted around to stare at him. “I know you like to be bossy,” she whispered, “but not about this. I’m going inside to see if I can help. I’ve been doing this in some form or another for several years. I won’t risk exposing your clan to another round of sickness, but I’m getting down and you aren’t going to stop me.”
Before he could argue, she slid down the side of his horse so quickly she almost fell over when her feet hit the ground. Her abrupt dismount neither stopped nor slowed her, and she took off in a run toward the guard at the gate. “Open up. I’m here to help.”
“How can ye help us?” the guard atop the wall asked.
“Have you just opened a new cask of ale from the same batch you brought to the MacKays?”
“Aye, we celebrated a betrothal at high sun the day before. And we need to drink ale today because we’ve been heaving so.”
“Then I can help. Let me in.” When he didn’t jump to do her bidding, her hands went to her hips. “You think because I’m a lass I cannot help? Or are you just a fool? What person in their right mind would refuse help?”
The guard glanced over at Brann to get his approval, a shocked expression on his face.
“Ye’ll no’ allow this, will ye?” Angus asked, his horse prancing a wee bit from his master’s agitation. “She could get us all sick again.”
Brann glanced up at the guard and nodded. “Open the gates. I’ll go with her.”
“Ye cannae risk yerself! Ye’re the chief,” Angus said.
“Angus, can ye no’ see he has the same sickness we had? Murray brought us the cask. The ale sickened his men just as it did ours.”
“But mayhap they did poison us apurpose.”
“Why would they poison themselves, too? I think this proves Murray’s innocence. Something else happened to those casks, and we need to discover what. Take the rest of the men home. I’ll stay inside the gates with Lady Allison. When she gets a notion in her head, it doesnae leave her.”
Angus studied him for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll leave a few men a ways out to escort ye back.”
“Aye. We shall return before nightfall.”
The gate opened and Allison rushed inside without waiting for him, headed straight for the hall.
Angus said, “I dinnae know where she came from, but the lass has bigger bollocks than most men.”
“Aye, she does,” Brann murmured, watching her march across the courtyard with purpose and determination.
“Ye’ll have yer hands full if ye convince her to stay. Ye ken that, aye?” Angus said, a knowing gleam in his eye.
“I do,” he said, staring after her.
“If ye need anything, send a few men back to me, and we’ll have more men here as fast as we can.” Angus turned his horse around and motioned for their men to follow him.
Brann led his horse into the stables and settled him inside with some oats since there was no one around. What the hell was he to do with Allison?
Stubborn, sassy, strong-minded, intelligent, passionate—these were words he would use to describe her. If anyone had asked him what he wished for in a mate, the only one of those words he would have thought of was passionate.
Before they’d met, he had thought of only one thing—being recognized as the strongest warrior in all the Highlands. That hadn’t changed, but it had been a lonely life, fighting at the corners for all to see, traveling to long-distance fairs to fight. Despite what Shona had done to him, he wished for companionship, for a true partner.
Strong men needed strong partners. A strong lass like Allison would surely give him strong sons, something else he yearned for but didn’t like to admit, especially after the mess with Shona. How many times had he heard of weak women dying in childbirth, unable to bear the pain and succumbing for whatever reason?
Not Allison. Allison would roar that child out of her, and it would be a strong bairn with a husky cry. There’d be no need for a wet nurse to take over for her. She’d be strong enough to feed three bairns, if he had to guess.
For the first time in his life, he pictured himself with a woman at his side and many bairns surrounding them—and he liked what he saw.
He shook his head to jar the thoughts from his mind. Relations with the lass had weakened him for certain. He climbed the stairs and entered the great hall—an empty great hall. Murray’s kitchens were attached to the hall, and he could already hear Allison’s strong voice barking orders to the Murray cook about boiling water.
He moved inside the kitchens, surprised to find only two workers inside. As if the cook read his mind, she glanced at him, totally confused.
He stood behind Allison and set his hands on her shoulders. “We had the same illness at my keep. The people who got sick all drank from a cask of ale given to us by yer chief. Allison had us all drinking water after it had been boiled, and we improved within a day. I’d listen to her.”
Allison glanced at the two Murray servants, one and then the other. “Did you drink any ale?”
Both women shook their heads. “We dinnae, but the men did. Most of them.”
“Don’t drink it and don’t allow anyone else to drink it. Have you any bones left? Venison or mutton? I think it would be best to start some broth cooking. Maybe only put in a few carrots. Keep it bland.”
“Where’s yer chief?” Brann asked.
“In his chamber. He hasnae moved since last eve.”
Brann said, “Boil a large pot of water for ten minutes, then let it cool. ‘Tis all yer people should have today. Mayhap they’ll be fit enough to drink the broth by this eve.”
“Only if they’ve stopped heaving,” Allison clarified. “Once they’ve stopped for half a day, they can try the broth.”
“Aye. We’re going to visit with yer chief.”
Before they left, Allison spun around and said, “And only cooked porridge and broth on the morrow. They must eat slow. And more water. No ale for two days and open a new cask.”
They found Ewan Murray lying on his bed, his eyes in a vacant stare.
“Ewan?” Brann asked.
Allison moved over to the bed and set the back of her hand on his forehead.
“I’m dying.”
She pulled a stool over next to him and sat down, holding his hand in hers. “No, you’re not dying. You’re sick from the ale in your cask. Either it wasn’t sealed properly or you made some mistake in the brewing process, but I promise you that if you don’t drink any more ale, you’ll survive. Your men, too.”
It was a testament to the man’s illness that he looked not at all surprised by Allison’s accent nor her brash, direct manner.
Brann said, “We went through the same at our keep. We opened the cask ye brought over and drank it that night. Dozens of my clanmates were sick the next day. We narrowed it down to the ale. Everyone who had taken sick had drunk a goblet of ale. Ye did, did ye no’?”
“Aye. Two goblets. My men have been coming back inside for more, Cook said. Please tell her to stop it. Have someone empty it into the dirt.” His skin was pale and drawn, his eyes dull.
“Allison has already given Cook her instructions. She’s boiling water to drink and cooking broth. Yer men should have naught but water and broth and porridge for a day or two.”
“Then we’ll live?” The tremor in his voice reached out to both of them. Brann couldn’t believe his friend’s weakened state. How fortunate for his own clan that they’d had Allison at their side.
Allison’s voice took on an even more commanding tone. “Look at me.”
Ewan turned toward her voice.
“How much ale have you had?”
“Two goblets before I started heaving, then I had another in the middle of the night. I swear I have naught left to heave.”
“If you don’t have any more, then I promise you that you’ll survive. Don’t drink any more ale, just water, and when you haven’t heaved in half a day, try some broth. I promise you’ll get better if you don’t drink any more ale.”
Ewan’s gaze stuck on hers, and Brann thought he could detect a slight misting in the chieftain’s eyes. “My thanks to ye. Will ye tell my men no’ to drink the ale?”
“Yes. We’ve told Cook already, and Brann will tell the men we see on the way out.”
“Are ye sure I willnae die? If I do, I wish for Brann to take over my land, split it with Taran. I have nae sons. I have not yet married.”
Allison patted his hand. “Nonsense. You need not think like that.”
Brann continued to watch the woman in front of him, awed by her. Her tone of voice was magical, the calm force Ewan’s soul needed in the midst of the chaos. The soothing words, her small ministrations—they all did their work in a way he’d not seen before.
Allison was definitely something special.
On their way out, they spoke with the cook again, along with several of Murray’s men.
Brann paused before they were ready to leave, then turned back to Cook. “Have ye seen any new lasses here recently? Have any women joined yer clan over the last two moons, Cook?”
“Nay,” she said, “I would recall a new lass.”
Only one question persisted that he couldn’t answer.
Who had set out to poison both the Murrays and the MacKays?
Chapter Fifteen
Allie’s mind tortured her, jumping from one thought to another. She’d admitted to Brann that she would save the necessary medicine she’d brought for her sisters, which essentially meant she valued their lives more than her own.
But another thought made her feel quite ill.
She’d almost left Clan Murray without giving a thought to her sisters. Hadn’t that been the reason she’d agreed to stay with Brann? She’d planned to spend the next few days asking around about them.
Only she’d forgotten.
She hadn’t given her sisters another thought because she’d been so wrapped up in helping Clan Murray.
Had it not been for Brann’s question to Cook, she’d have no idea whether or not one of her sisters could be there.
Guilt riddled her nearly senseless. Why? Why had she forgotten something so important?
“Stop torturing yerself,” Brann said, his horse moving at a nice canter through the valley.
“What? What makes you think I’m torturing myself?”
“Because I can feel it in ye, lass. When ye get to know someone well, ye know how their thoughts turn before they do sometimes. Ye were worried about a clan of sick people thinking they were all dying. And I commend ye for taking the time to calm their laird’s fears.”
“Thank ye…I mean, thank you.” Dammit, now she was talking like them. If she assimilated any more, she may as well stay.
“Ye were a healer in yer time, aye?”
“Sort of. The nursing profession developed for many r
easons, but we have doctors and nurses and a few levels between them. The doctors assess patients and decide how to best treat them. Nurses fill a very different role. We administer some of the doctor’s orders, but we also help the patients deal with their situation, teach them how to adapt their lives to a sickness, and offer comfort where it is needed.”
“Ye have wonderful comforting skills.”
“That was my favorite part of nursing. Anyone can give medicines. Tell me more about the festival next week.”
“There will be many people there from the four bordering clans, but also visitors from beyond. Merchants and vendors attend to sell food and wares. ‘Tis a way to build yer coffers if ye have skills to market, or if ye can compete well.”
“Compete? What kind of competitions? Please tell me you aren’t going to fistfight ten men.” She turned around to give him a glare. “Blows to the head can do permanent damage, you know.” He’d told her about his barbaric competitions.
“I’ll be competing in other areas. No fistfights. ‘Tis too much for women’s tender sensibilities. We do archery, the log toss, and an obstacle course for horses and their riders. There will be sword fights, but ‘twill be to first blood only, not to the death.”
“Who sets up all the contests?”
“People who want more coin. There will be plenty of wagering. Ye must pay to enter, and others wager on who they think is best. The winner and second best will usually get a part of the wagers.”
“And you think my sisters would attend such an event? It doesn’t sound like it would be appealing for most women.”
“Och, but after they win their wagers, they take the lassies to the vendors’ booths and buy them sweet treats or ribbons for their hair. I’ve seen woolen garments sold, even fragrant oils or candles. There will be much to see, and ‘tis where ye should spend time looking for yer sisters.”
She couldn’t wait to go.
***
Brann led the group to the festival, though Angus rode on one side of him and another warrior rode on the other. Hamish had stayed home to protect the keep. They still hadn’t discovered how the casks had been tainted, but he wouldn’t give up looking. In fact, if he had the chance to speak with Sinclair at the festival, he’d be sure to tell him all alliances were off. He’d make no promises to anyone until the culprit was found.
Falling for the Chieftain: A Time Travel Romance (Enchanted Falls Trilogy, Book 3) Page 10