The Healer

by Allison Butler

‘No. My...Lord Fenwick wasn’t there. He doesn’t know his son was taken.’

  ‘Where is the lad’s father?’

  ‘It was Truce Day.’

  ‘At Rockcliffe?’

  ‘Yes.’

  William knew of Truce Day. In the future, he’d likely have to participate in the proceedings, now he was laird. As the second son, he’d been tutored in sword fighting and defence, not crime and politics as his older brother Roger had been.

  But Roger was dead and the responsibilities of his clan now rested squarely on his shoulders.

  ‘Why did you kidnap Thomas?’

  Her soft-spoken enquiry broke into his thoughts.

  ‘The boy was there for the taking,’ he said, repeating Lachlan’s response when he’d asked the same question. ‘He was returned, unharmed, as promised,’ he said, annoyed by the need to reassure her.

  ‘So you said.’

  Did she doubt his word? Her opinion of him shouldn’t matter, but he found it did. William fought the anger swelling inside him. He’d no need to defend himself to this Englishwoman.

  ‘Fenwick will no doubt reward you handsomely for rescuing his heir from the savage Scots,’ he said unkindly.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  Her response surprised him, again. It wasn’t only how swiftly she’d admitted to anticipating a prize for rescuing Fenwick’s heir, something many people would deny. It was the fervent hope she’d instilled in the single, softly spoken word.

  William clamped his jaw and fought the need to ask what fee she’d demand, in return for telling him exactly what reward she hoped to gain.

  ***

  He asked no more questions, for which Lynelle was infinitely grateful. Her father’s approval was the reward she desired most, but William didn’t need to know. She had no desire to share her secrets with him, didn’t want to reveal anything about herself if she could help it.

  William’s muscled thighs flexed and tightened around her. She’d heard anger in his voice when he’d made his final statement about her gaining a reward.

  She hadn’t meant to anger him and was confused as to how she’d managed it. She’d said very little, really. She’d given him honest answers and asked only a single question in return.

  She’d tried to hold her tongue, a trait she’d mastered over the years – until now. It was as if she’d become a different person since setting foot on Scottish soil, as if the real Lynelle, buried deep inside for so many years, had finally awakened. She discovered she wanted to be her true self immensely.

  She was a prisoner, and yet ahead of her lay fourteen days of freedom. Freedom to ask questions, to speak her mind, and use her healing knowledge to aid the sick. Two weeks of living among strangers, people who knew her as Lynelle the healer, not Lynelle the cursed.

  Two whole weeks with William Kirkpatrick.

  Lynelle swallowed, forcing her thoughts away from him to study the landscape ahead. The beauty of the gentle rolling hills in the distance and the haunting cry of an osprey overhead failed to provide the distraction she hoped for. It was impossible with her bottom imprisoned in his lap and his body heat seeping through her clothes, warming her skin.

  They stopped beside a trickling stream and Donald helped her to the ground. The older man’s hands at her waist didn’t cause the burning sensation she’d experienced when William had lifted her earlier. Why was it William’s touch had such a profound and lingering effect when Donald’s did not? She tucked the confusing thought away for later.

  Slowly making her way to Edan’s side, she marvelled at how her legs and buttocks were less sore this time.

  ‘How is your leg?’ she said, crouching down before Edan.

  ‘Whatever you gave me has helped with the pain,’ he said with a smile. ‘Thank you, Lynelle.’

  Lost for words, Lynelle returned the smile, as a feeling of warmth and wonder unfurled inside her. This must be the pleasure Ada had so often spoken of when she’d eased someone’s suffering.

  A shadow fell across Edan’s form. She didn’t need to look up to see who it was. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin and it suddenly seemed harder to breathe.

  ‘Hungry, Edan?’

  The sound of William’s deep voice rained down around her.

  ‘A little,’ Edan said.

  ‘Good. We’ll eat now and then press on.’

  William moved away and Lynelle drew a full breath. Glancing up, she watched him converse with Donald while he unpacked bundles of food from one of the sacks.

  ‘My brother won’t hurt you.’

  Lynelle’s eyes darted back to Edan’s face. What expression must she have worn for him to make such a statement?

  ‘Mother taught us to be gentle with women,’ Edan said.

  Lynelle noted the wistfulness in his voice. ‘Your mother is dead?’

  The young man nodded.

  ‘And your father?’

  Edan lowered his lashes, but not quickly enough to hide the flash of pain in his eyes.

  ‘I never knew him,’ he said softly. ‘He died three months before I was born.’

  Lynelle’s heart clenched within her chest. Edan would never know his father. Yet she had the chance to know hers, if only her father would allow it.

  ‘From what I’ve been told, father’s ideas were the same as mother’s. He was an honourable man and died a hero.’

  ‘How did he die?’ Lynelle couldn’t help asking.

  ‘He was struck down by some English dog at Otterburn. He didn’t survive his wounds, but he fought bravely, just like the Earl of Douglas.’

  Lynelle noted Edan’s anger and distress. It might have been a Scottish victory, but not for this young man.

  ‘Perhaps my being English is the reason your brother isn’t fond of me,’ she said.

  ‘I believe it makes little difference to William where you come from. Being a healer is the reason my brother is wary of you.’

  Lynelle stared into the serious grey eyes observing her. ‘He doesn’t trust healers?’

  ‘Nae,’ Edan said.

  Before she could ask why, a footfall sounded. She glanced up to find the topic of their conversation striding toward them, carrying a platter of food.

  Lynelle stood and looked down at the injured young man. ‘I will leave you to your meal. I need to wash.’

  She headed to the stream and knelt to splash her face and hands with the cold water. Satisfied she’d removed the dust from her face and the smell of horse from her hands, she walked back and sat on a grassy mound a slight distance away from the others.

  Donald brought her a wooden cup of wine and a platter piled with bread, a chunk of cheese and several slices of smoked ham. She thanked him and he returned to sit with Edan and William to eat his repast.

  As she nibbled brown, grainy bread, she watched the others. It was a pastime on which she’d spent hundreds of hours during the course of her life.

  Keith sat a little way downstream, where the horses lazily drank the cool, running water and rested. He seemed more comfortable with the four-legged creatures than with the two-legged kind.

  Her gaze wandered to the three men sitting together. Donald chewed and chatted with his mouth full, his lined face breaking into a grin at something he’d said. She watched Edan, pleased his wounds hadn’t interfered with his appetite.

  Soon she’d have to unravel and remove Iona’s dressings and see to Edan’s wounds herself. A knot of apprehension blossomed low in her stomach. It would be the first real test of her healing knowledge, and one she prayed she wouldn’t fail.

  She tried to avoid looking at the third man in the group, but her traitorous eyes settled on him despite her efforts. Even sitting on the ground consuming slices of ham, the man exuded power. He sat side on to her, his dark, shoulder-length hair hiding most of his handsome face. His back remained straight, his every movement one of purpose.

  He was a leader, as was her father, but as she observed William’s gestures and manner, she realized the similarities
ended there.

  She couldn’t envision her father, or any of the lords who visited Fenwick, perched on the ground sharing a meal and banter with their men. And never would her father share his saddle with another, as William had done for her, unwilling or not.

  The idea of tainting a potion to make him ill suddenly soured her stomach.

  She glanced down at her trencher, surprised to find it empty. Worry for Thomas had overridden hunger when the maid had delivered a tray to her room at dawn. She hadn’t touched a single morsel then.

  Thoughts of her stepbrother loomed, but he was far away at this moment and she had more important matters to focus on. She needed to survive the coming days by pretending to be an accomplished healer.

  Sipping from the drinking vessel, she drank only a little. She needed to keep her wits about her here among these strangers.

  Why did William mistrust healers? Edan’s revelation snared her curiosity and she desperately wanted to learn the cause of his wariness. Discovering his reasons might help her understand the man better.

  Or it could lead her into further trouble.

  Chapter 7

  RELIEVED the meal was over, William gave the order to move on. His agitation had nothing to do with the company he shared or the food he consumed. It had everything to do with his sudden urge to watch the healer to ensure she ate well. He’d won the initial skirmish, but knew he’d lost the battle when he’d asked Donald to report how much the woman had eaten.

  Everything, he’d been informed.

  He called another halt during the afternoon, giving them all a chance to stretch their legs, but mostly to give himself a respite from the woman nestled in his lap. Though she sat rigid and silent throughout the journey, he couldn’t ignore her feminine presence. He almost wished she’d grumble so he could justify tossing her from his horse and making her walk.

  She didn’t utter a single word of complaint. Her meek acceptance of the situation after he’d witnessed the flash of defiance in her eyes fuelled his thirst to know more about her.

  ‘Is there another at Fenwick who will tend the people in your absence?’

  She stiffened and kept her face averted.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You will be sorely missed, then.’

  William peered down and noticed her fingers twisting together. Before he’d spoken, her hands had been calmly folded and unmoving.

  ‘A healing woman lives in the village to the east. She will be called upon if her skills are needed.’

  ‘Have you saved many with your skills?’ William anxiously awaited her response, not realizing how important her answer was until he’d asked the question.

  ‘Wouldn’t you rather know how many have died after I’ve tended them?’

  She turned her head a fraction and stared down at her fidgeting hands. Her new position allowed him to see her face in profile. She appeared pale and drawn. Again she’d answered his question with one of her own.

  ‘Aye,’ he finally said.

  Her slender shoulders lifted as she drew a deep breath and William held his own at her lingering silence.

  ‘None I have treated have died under my care.’

  William exhaled slowly and looked away. His worry eased, but he couldn’t understand why she seemed displeased by her flawless record.

  Looking to the west, he found the sun creeping slowly toward the horizon. A few hours of daylight remained and he wanted to establish a makeshift camp for the night before full darkness fell.

  Ahead, a cluster of alder trees huddled together, protected by an outcropping of rock protruding from the hill.

  ‘Donald,’ he called. ‘We’ll rest here for the night.’

  ‘Aye, Will.’

  William’s eyes strayed to the bandages wrapped about his brother’s limbs.

  ‘Pray to God your healing success remains unblemished,’ he said softly.

  ***

  The moment Donald lifted her to the ground, Lynelle dashed toward the clump of trees as fast as her unsteady legs allowed. She used the excuse that she was easing a full bladder, when truthfully she needed distance between herself and William’s probing questions and soft-spoken threats.

  Twisting his words had saved her from revealing the fraud she was. But how long would it be before he asked a question she couldn’t alter?

  Knowing she couldn’t hide within the foliage forever, she emerged from the trees and found the three men making preparations for the night.

  Edan lay on the litter, but it had been disconnected from the horse and placed beneath a sheltering rock formation. Donald gathered their belongings and placed the sacks under nature’s stone roof for protection. Keith saw to the horses and William crouched nearby, building a fire. They all appeared engrossed in their tasks, but as Lynelle made her way to Edan she was aware her every move was being observed.

  Extracting her sack from the pile, she removed her herb satchel and sat beside Edan.

  ‘I’d like to look at your wounds while there is still natural light to see by.’

  Edan’s eyes widened a fraction and she heard him swallow.

  ‘My aim is to ease your suffering, not increase it,’ she said. ‘I promise to be gentle with you.’

  Edan rewarded her with a nod and a tremulous smile. She prayed she could uphold her promise.

  ‘I’ll start with your leg,’ she said, and shifted to her knees beside the pallet.

  Deep-voiced conversation sounded nearby, but she closed her ears to its content and focused solely on her task. With fingers that trembled only slightly, she began removing the strips of linen Iona had wrapped around Edan’s left thigh, all the while glancing at Edan to ensure she wasn’t causing him undue discomfort.

  She paused after unrolling half the dressing and drew a fortifying breath. Edan peered up at her and her stomach clenched. She managed a reassuring smile despite knowing this was the easy part. He frowned and focused on his lower limb.

  Sweat beaded between her breasts as she continued unravelling the linen discoloured by the salve the Elliot’s healer had applied to the wound. Finally, she peeled the last of the dressing away and stared at the ointment-smeared wound.

  ‘I need to wash away the salve and apply fresh ointment before I redress it.’ The words slipped out as she spoke her thoughts aloud.

  ‘The water is almost boiled.’

  Lynelle jumped. William stood close behind her, looking intently at his brother’s injury.

  ‘I witnessed Iona’s healing methods when Edan was first injured,’ he said. ‘She bathed his injuries before applying the stitches and the salve.’ His gaze slid to her. ‘I believe she included a pot of the ointment and fresh linens for the journey,’ he finished, setting Iona’s sack down beside her, before making his way back to the fire.

  Lynelle blinked and reached for the sack, relieved she hadn’t known he’d been watching her work. She rummaged and found a small earthen jar wrapped among fresh linen strips, all neatly housed within two wooden bowls.

  She set aside what she needed and withdrew the crushed sopewort from her own assortment of herbs, placing a pinch of the herb into each of the bowls. Following Ada’s adamant advice, she’d wash her own hands before touching Edan’s open wound.

  William returned carrying an iron pot, the steam from the boiled water wafting into the air. Lynelle held both wooden bowls, while he poured hot liquid into each and she set them aside to cool.

  ‘Tell me of your other injuries,’ she said to Edan.

  ‘A bone in my arm is broken,’ he replied, looking at the splinted limb.

  ‘Is any of the skin broken on your arm?’

  Edan looked puzzled and peered up at his older brother who stood watching over him.

  ‘Nae,’ William answered for him.

  ‘Then I will leave it untouched for now,’ she said, leaning closer to appraise the small gash on his face. She would wash the scratch and apply some ointment to it also. ‘Anything else I should know of?’

  �
�He might have broken a rib or two in the fall,’ William informed her.

  ‘May I take a look?’ she asked Edan.

  He nodded, and using his uninjured hand he drew his shirt up for her to see. Lynelle examined his bound middle and spied the purplish discolouration above the dressing on his chest and below his lower abdomen.

  ‘You were certainly lucky to have Iona tend to your injuries. She is obviously a skilled and practiced healer.’

  Gratitude for the learned healer welled inside Lynelle. Edan’s ongoing care had been made much easier because of Iona’s expert initial care.

  ‘I will leave these dressings intact until we reach your home,’ she explained, lowering his shirt back into place. ‘Now to your leg.’

  Dipping the tips of her fingers into one of the bowls, she tested the temperature of the water. Satisfied, she washed her hands as best she could and dried them thoroughly on a piece of clean linen. She lifted the used bowl and placed it before William.

  ‘If you wish to test the cleansing wash, I ask that you use this one.’

  William didn’t hesitate.

  While she waited for his consent, she hid her irritation by retrieving a fresh cloth and dipped it into the second bowl, squeezing out the excess moisture.

  ‘Go on,’ he finally said.

  Licking her dry lips, she looked into Edan’s wide eyes and explained what she meant to do. ‘It’s important to keep wounds clean. I’m going to bathe your wounds and then apply more ointment.’

  Lynelle washed the gash on his cheek first and using a different cloth carefully began wiping all traces of the salve from his thigh. The flesh surrounding the wound looked slightly pink, but appeared free of infection. A neat line of dark stitches held the broken skin together and she stared in awe at Iona’s handiwork.

  ‘Where did you learn your healing methods?’

  Lynelle glanced up at William before quickly looking back at the wound. ‘My knowledge comes from Fenwick’s previous healer, Ada. She taught me everything I know.’

  About life as well as healing.

  Swallowing past the lump that formed in her throat, she gently patted both wounds dry and grasped the crock of salve. Releasing the stopper, she scooped a little onto her finger and rubbed it into the back of her hand. She knew what William expected of her and would rather do it without his command.