The Healer (18 page)

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 dry 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.

‘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...

‘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.