Full Mackintosh

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Full Mackintosh Page 12

by Deb Kemper


  “She’s still stiff, turnin’ blue.”

  “Get her out of the water and rub her down, like you would a horse after ridin’ hard. She needs more air.”

  Gerty dashed up the kitchen stairs. “What’re ye doing here, ma’am? Ye’re not to be down here. Ye could get sick or the bairn could….”

  “Go help the laird. He’s tryin’ to break Jessie’s fever, Gerty. I’ll tend to myself.” She paced the end of the corridor.

  Millie topped the stairs at the other end. “What’re ye doing there, milady?”

  Amalie turned Ewan around. “Listening, Millie. I haven’t been in the room. Please go help the laird deal with Jessie. Is the physician comin’?”

  “Right behind me. Granny Mae’s on her way, she had to stop to cut herbs. She’s bringing elderflower for tea and camphor oil to rub her down.”

  “Good, is Mallow still in the hall kitchen?”

  “Aye, she kens Jessie’s ill but I don’t want ’er up here.” Millie scrubbed her hands down her aparan.

  “No, she need not be in the muddle. I’ll go to my room unless you need me. The door’ll be open so I can hear you holler.” Amalie turned to the gallery and slowly took a few steps toward her chamber.

  “Milady, she’ll be alright.” Millie sounded so certain it caused Amalie to pause. Millie stopped in the doorway and crossed herself.

  “I pray so, Millie.” Amalie and Ewan waited a moment longer for news from the nursery’s bathing chamber. When none came she slipped away.

  Amalie propped in the ancient rocker her husband brought from the nursery two years earlier. Her son lay limp on her shoulder. She started when voices rose. She gently laid her sleeping boy in his bed and returned to the hallway by the nursery.

  Garth stepped through, pale in the dim light.

  “Well?” Amalie waited for him to explain what happened.

  “The physician thinks she has infection in her belly. He wants to take it out.”

  “Well, then, has he washed and sterilized his instruments?”

  “Millie just sent fer the kitchen to boil water.” He rubbed his forehead and eyes. “I don’t know, Amalie. Is it safe fer a tyke to be cut open like that?”

  “If it has to be. Do you want me to go examine her? I’ll tie a kertch over my face, just in case it’s catchin’.”

  He gazed wearily into her dark eyes. “I don’t want ye harmed in any way. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Go wash up, change your clothes, and tend to Ewan, if he needs you. I’ll take a quick peek at our darlin’.” She fetched a kertch from her dresser and tied it over her nose and mouth.

  Amalie paused at the doorway to the nursery. Please, Adonai, don’t let this be catchin’. Protect me and my children. Give me wisdom in decidin’ what to do with our little girl. She stepped in and around the corner, to the strong scent of camphor.

  The physician, Mortimer, bowed his head at her entry. “Milady.”

  “Sir.” She returned the nod. “I need to check Jessica to assure her da we’re doing the right thing.”

  “Aye, ma’am.” He took a few steps back from Jessie’s bed.

  Amalie sat on the edge and felt her forehead. “Still burnin’ up.” She lifted Jessica’s gown and gently probed her soft abdomen. Her small body recoiled, with a whimper, when Amalie touched the tender spot on her right side. “Aye, I know what you’re seein’, Mortimer. It may be her appendix.” She covered Jessie with a blanket and rose. “Please use caution to scrub yourself well so there’ll be no infection. We can take her down to the dining room table. I’ll tell milord. Have you any ether?”

  “Aye,” Mortimer smiled indulgently, “but she ain’t got whoopin’ cough or a toothache.”

  “Sir, its benefit may prove priceless in keepin’ a small child still during surgery. Send for it, please.” Lady Mackintosh was not amused.

  He sobered. “Aye, milady.”

  Amalie returned to her chamber and scrubbed her hands well with soap, rinsed, and dried on a linen towel. She removed her kertch and turned back to find Garth behind her.

  “What?” His expression was hopeful.

  “Let’s move her down to the dining room table, light all the candles, and open the drapes, so he can see well. I’ll change into clean clothes and help him.”

  “Ye’re sure of this thing?”

  “No, but I must be there to help. I know a good bit about anatomy, and have mastered a smidge of chemistry so mayhap I can be of use.” She unbuttoned her blouse to change to a plain white shift.

  “Amalie, I canna lose ye. I’ll die.” Garth hovered over her.

  His wife patted his arm and stretched on tiptoes to lay a kiss on his mouth. “We shan’t die today, milord.” She spun her braid into a bun and pinned it up.

  Garth eased into the nursery to Jessica’s bedside. “Hello, little

  one. Da’s going to carry ye down to the dining hall now.”

  Jessie watched him and tried to nod. “Da.” She breathed his name.

  “Aye, sweet lass?”

  Her lip trembled; tears welled in her eyes.

  “Mam will be with ye while the physician works to make ye better.” He scooped the tiny bundle into his arms, laying a kiss on her fevered brow.

  Jessie turned her face into his arm, sighed, and closed her eyes.

  ****

  Jessica’s frail form lay in brilliant light at the end of the table, nearest the kitchen, on a white sheet. Her cheeks blazed as the fever raged. Amalie wrapped her in a blanket and stayed with her while the physician prepared himself and his instruments according to her instructions.

  Amalie perched on a chair by Jessie and whispered encouragement. She kissed her temple and nuzzled her sweaty hair. The bottle of ether sat near the child’s head along with several cotton rags. “I love you, sweetie. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. Do you want me to get Mallow?”

  Jessica shook her head. “Where’s Da?”

  “Da’s near. He’ll be seein’ to himself and Ewan so I can help. I’m with you for him. He can’t stand that you’re sick and he can’t fix it.”

  Millie arrived with a bowl of hot water covered with a cloth. “How is she, milady?” She placed the bowl on the table and leaned down for a kiss on Jessie’s brow.

  Jessie squinted up through bloodshot eyes.

  “We’re doing, Millie. How’s Da?” Amalie stroked Jessica’s cheek as the little one shivered.

  “In the study with his old friend, mead.” Millie made a motion with her hand to emulate a cup tipped to her lips.

  Amalie smiled. “He’ll be fine then.”

  Mortimer came into the room, well-scrubbed, wearing two of Millie’s clean white aparans, back to front. “As a note, ladies, I think this is ridiculous.”

  “Sir, may I remind you that you serve at the pleasure of The Mackintosh?” Amalie’s chin rose.

  “Aye, milady, I ken that. But I never heard o’ so much washin’.”

  “The Danes have been doing it for more than half a century. It vastly improved the survival rate of their patients.”

  He frowned at her. “Really? Danes? I never kent such, but if it means folks won’t die, I’ll be washin’.”

  “Good! Now, tell me how to use the ether, without dosing myself.” She lifted a folded cloth and bottle.

  “Ye’ll dab a bit on the rag and hold it o’er her nose, bein’ cautious not to inhale. As she sleeps we’ll try the incision. We’ll need a few braw lads in to help hold her if it don’t do the trick.”

  Millie left for the kitchen to fetch pages and have them scrub.

  ****

  Two hours later Amalie tapped on the study door and opened it. “Milord?”

  Garth stood at her entry. “What news, Amalie?”

  She smiled and covered the distance between them.

  “She did well. Dr. Mortimer removed her appendix. It was enflamed and appears to be the problem. Now we have to get her to drink and she’ll be fine. The fever’s already g
oing down. She’s asleep, so it would be a good time to move her. Now tell me how you are.” She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest inhaling his scent.

  “I’ve been worried sick, woman. Mallow came in and took Ewan to the nursery. Are ye sure that thing made Jessie ill?”

  She nodded. “Don’t borrow trouble. Go get her. We’ll carry her back upstairs. Put her in my chamber so I can keep an eye on her and Ewan at the same time. Nurse and I will take turns sittin’ with her. Unless of course, the poor girl quit and left for home already.”

  Garth bent for a quick kiss. “Thank ye, my heart. I’ll apologize if I must.”

  “You may very well have to. We can’t afford to lose her.” She passed through the door he held.

  Chapter 23

  Jeremy Collin

  A gangly man with waist length wavy blonde hair, a graying beard, and vibrant blue eyes swaggered through the castle gates into the midst of the barmekin. A black stallion followed at his heels, carrying his own lead. The stranger’s cool blue eyes surveyed the walls, guards, and towers.

  Grayson, the gatekeeper, a giant of a man, spotted him and approached slowly. “May I hep ye, sir?” The big Scot looked down, at the intruder in front of him, who stood barely as high as Grayson’s shoulder.

  “Aye, ye can do that, lad. I hear Himself is in the market fer a champion. I come to apply fer the position.” The outsider’s fiery gaze studied the situation around him. When Grayson didn’t scamper to the chore he lifted his countenance with a frown.

  “Yer comin’ fer Quentin’s job?” Grayson chuckled and crossed his arms to finger the hilt of his dirk, sheathed under his arm.

  The outsider’s hand rested on the butt of a pistol in his belt, his head cocked to one side. “What’s so damn funny?” His features set in a fierce scowl.

  “Yer only ’bout half the man of the former champion.” Grayson grinned and shook his head.

  The foreigner joined him in a chuckle. “Well, I tell ye what ye do. Go to yer laird and tell him that Jeremy Collin is here to pull his sorry arse outta the fire a-gain. Ye got that or shall I write it down fer ye?”

  “Ye know my laird, Irish?” Grayson lost his humor.

  “Aye, fought alongside him in France fer five years. What say ye to gettin’ along with yer errand? I’m in need of refreshment. ’Tis a warm day, lad. And while yer at it, have a page tend my horse.”

  “Perry!” Grayson shouted toward the wall. “Come down and tend the stallion.” He glanced over the Irishman again. “Follow me to the great hall. The Mackintosh is sittin’ judgment. I’ll hie to the kitchen and see what Millie’s got. Ye favor ale or stout?”

  Collin nodded his gratitude. “Thank ye kindly, stout to cut the dust outta me throat.”

  The pair of mismatched men strode into an eerily quiet great hall. Diners of the midday meal were gone, leaving the laird and a line of petitioners. Collin stopped in the cool darkness, studying the layout, and the big man in the great chair, at the head of the hall.

  Garth slumped to one side as he listened to two brothers’ conflict. He held up his hand for silence. “Let me ken what yer problem is. Ye been reivin’ the same cow back and forth for longer than ye can remember. Now ye’re in dispute o’er who owns the cow. Lads, it’s simple. Butcher the cow and divide it.”

  “But, sir, we need the milk from her.” They replied in unison.

  “Ah, ye didn’t say that. She should be producin’ enough to feed both families most days, is she not?”

  “Ah, sir, that she is, a fine milker.” The elder brother declared proudly.

  “Then share the milk, straight down the middle every day. Ye live beside each other, do ye not?”

  “Aye, sir, we do.” The shorter and younger confirmed.

  “Then use yer noggins. If ye bring such a matter before me again, she’ll grace the table in this hall. Ye’re brothers. Ye should be able to talk about anythin’. Work it out.” He waved his hand in dismissal.

  He watched the back of the room for Amalie. She was due any moment with a tankard of ale for him and he didn’t want to be involved with anyone when she came.

  As he surveyed the room his eyes landed on the newcomer. He studied the man’s movements for a few seconds and shouted from his seat. “Will that be Collin in my house, then? The famous Irishman who’s quick with a sword? Has the swaggerin’ bard of the Celts come callin’?”

  Grayson approached the high seat. “Aye, sir, that’s who he be. Ye want him to come in or can I throw him out?”

  “Grayson, don’t lay a hand on him. He could kill ye before ye blink. He’s the deadliest man I’ve ever encountered and I’m fortunate to be his friend.” Garth answered quietly as he looked up into the bushy brows of the gatekeeper.

  “Has he bested ye, sire?” Grayson’s head cocked to one side; sure he would hear a tall tale.

  “Thrice he took my sword and I’ll be buggered to figure out how he did it.” Garth abandoned his chair, chuckling.

  Grayson scratched his grizzled chin and shook his head. He left to see to food for their guest.

  Garth met Collin half-way across the hall as Amalie emerged from the kitchen with ale.

  She strolled to where the two men stood, embracing each other at arm’s length.

  “Collin, meet my wife, Amalie. Beloved, Collin’s an old friend.”

  “My pleasure, sir. Welcome to our home.” She curtsied.

  “Irish then?” He grinned wolfishly.

  “Aye, sir, as is our chatelaine, Millie.” She responded coolly.

  “Do ye think I can send everyone home fer the day?” Garth found her hand. She didn’t get within range but he touched her as often as possible.

  “I’ll do it, then I go up to our son. He’ll be bellowing for his mam.”

  She continued up to the dais and the high chair to make the announcement to the fifteen people still waiting for Garth. “He’ll see you on the morrow. You’ll take your place at the front if you’ll tell the bailiff I said so.” She spotted her friend in the small crowd. “Ceidra?”

  The pretty, petite, dark-haired woman peeked up from her young son and smiled. “Aye, milady?” She inched her way toward Amalie, pressing through a few disgruntled folks.

  “What’d ye need, dear? Is there aught I can do?” Amalie squeezed Ceidra’s thin arm.

  “Don’t wanna bother ye, ma’am.”

  “Say or you’ll have to walk to the castle with me to feed my bairn.”

  “It’d be a pleasant journey.” Ceidra blushed.

  “Let’s go then. How’s Seth doing?”

  Ceidra paused to loosen her son’s hold on her leg and Amalie turned to her. “He’s doing well with the numbers ye give me but he don’t like readin’ atall.”

  Amalie laughed. “Lads tend to be harder than lasses when it comes to reading.”

  “How’s yer Jessica?” Ceidra kept pace with Amalie’s long legs.

  “Still not recognizing letters and sounds. I think the fever burned through the part of her that was catchin’ on. I’ll stick with it if it takes her whole life. She so loved learnin’ to read.” Amalie shook her head sadly.

  The ladies hied to the castle.

  ****

  Amalie lay on Garth’s arm running her fingertips through the mass of curled hair on his chest. “Are you going to take Collin before the council?”

  “Aye, he’ll be a fine champion for the Chattan. He’s a Godsend though he’d never acknowledge it.” Garth turned on his side to face her. “He ran into Quentin at the wharf in Aberdeen.”

  “He told me he’d sail from there. What an odd thing; the two of them meeting in that strange place. Where will Jeremy live?”

  “I’ll give him land to build his home. Why?”

  “Ceidra’s thinkin’ of rentin’ out Angus’ workshop. It’s almost as big as the cottage. She’d feel better if there was a man about the place, especially at night.” She squirmed closer into his heat.

  “I’ll tell him. C
an’t hurt either of them…I hope.” Garth looked doubtful.

  “Aye, he’s obviously a lady’s man but Ceidra’s a sound girl, not overwhelmed by flattery.”

  He brushed a hand across her hair. “Thank ye fer moving into my room. I like havin’ ye handy.”

  She pushed back with a throaty laugh. “Handy? Like your favorite pipe?”

  He took the opportunity to kiss her long white neck. “Like the extension of me that ye are. When I leave ye of a morn, it’s like leaving part of myself behind.”

  Amalie laid her hand against his rough cheek. “I feel the same, my love.”

  “I watch fer ye to emerge from the kitchen to steal a glance at ye, like a beggar waitin’ fer crumbs. I’m thoroughly besotted with ye, madam.” He pulled the ribbon on her gown, pushing the gauzy fabric out of his way. He pressed his face between her breasts. “Mmm, I’m about to invade yer garden, my heart.”

  She laughed again. “The path may be cool to your touch, milord.”

  He grinned up at her. “I can remedy that.”

  ****

  Jeremy Collin settled into the routine of village life. “Hioo!” He yelled as he approached the gate on foot.

  “Where’s yer horse?” Grayson asked.

  “Give him the day off. He’s grazin’ pasture today in lieu of oats at the stable.”

  “The mistress, Lady Mackintosh wants a word with ye.” Grayson dropped his gaze then checked the skyline.

  Collin hung his thumbs in the belt of his trews. “Is that supposed to worry me?”

  “No, Irish, I’m jest sayin’ she asked fer ye a little while ago. Tread real careful with her, that’s all.”

  Collin grinned. “Could it be the lass frightens ye, man?”

  Grayson shook his large gray head and rubbed his rough chin. “Wisdom dictates round her. She’ll not be won over with yer proud ways.”

  Laughter erupted from the smaller man. “I’ll use me courtly manners then, Grayson.” He slapped the big Scot on the back and swaggered away to the great hall.

 

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