Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“How old are ye?” Jeane asked, holding a notebook she scribbled in from time to time.
Fergus watched her, rapt.
She seemed to know what she was doing.
“Eighteen,” Lottie said proudly.
Fergus could barely believe it. When he looked at Lottie, he saw her at three years old, grabbing onto his tunic and following him everywhere, sucking on her thumb.
“What were ye doin’ when ye fell ill?” Jeane asked.
“Nothin’ in particular,” Lottie said easily. “I suppose it was after Aiden and I went swimmin’ in the Loch.”
“God kens what kind of critters and illnesses live in the Loch,” Fergus groaned, but Jeane ignored him as she was wont to do.
Aiden frowned. “I told her we shouldnae—” he started, and Fergus glared at him. Aiden clamped his mouth shut.
“Ye cannae control a wee girl?”
Lottie groaned. “I’m nae a wee girl.”
Fergus ignored that comment the way she had ignored his. He focused on Aiden.
“Next time, ye tell her what to do, nae the other way around,” Fergus suggested.
Aiden nodded, but Lottie scoffed.
“Let him try it,” she muttered, but again, Fergus ignored it.
Aiden stood there, frowning, gesturing wildly. He knocked over the healer’s bag with the action, and it clattered on the floor, making Jeane jump nearly out of her skin.
“It’s all right,” Fergus murmured, stepping closer to the lass, putting a hand on her shoulder, but she stiffened, and he removed it.
“I cannae believe ye talked me into—” Aiden started ranting, but Fergus cut him off.
He knew how much the man fretted over Lottie.
He supposed that one day, Aiden and Lottie might be married.
Aiden was a good man, and Fergus was not against the idea, but he did not want Aiden getting in Jeane’s way at the moment.
Not to mention, the lass was skittish. He called her “little mouse” for a reason.
“Ye go check on the horses,” Fergus said. “Mine was pretty spooked out in the forest.”
Aiden’s jaw tightened.
“I daenae want to leave Lottie. She‘s nervous about her first appointment with the healer.”
“I dinnae say I was nervous,” Lottie argued, and Aiden sighed.
Fergus glared at Aiden. “Are ye questionin’ yer laird?
Aiden stared back at him, and for a moment Fergus thought he would really stand against him, but in the end, he just shook his head.
“Nay, Me Laird. I’ll go.”
Aiden dropped a hand on Lottie’s shoulder briefly. She smiled, looking up as she squeezed it. Aiden left the room, and Fergus turned back to Jeane.
He watched Jeane as she examined his sister.
She had a magic touch, it seemed, because his side, which had been screaming all night, had quieted. The pain was now just a simple ache instead of the stinging burn it had been.
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorjamb as Jeane pressed her ear to his sister’s back.
“And ye havenae traveled outside of the country?”
“Heavens, nay. Fergus barely lets me leave the castle. He thinks there’s an enemy hidin’ in every corner, waitin’ to grab me.”
Jeane smiled, but she tapped on Lottie’s chest, as if listening for something. She was focused on the exam instead of his garrulous sister.
“Cough,” Jeane ordered, and Lottie did so, dissolving into a coughing fit that made Fergus frown and straighten up.
“Why’d ye make her cough?”
“Be quiet, Fergus,” Lottie scolded. “She’s tryin’ to make me better.”
“So that I can tell if there’s fluid in her lungs or nae. I’m afraid there is,” Jeane said quietly, not sugarcoating things. Fergus respected that.
“Is that bad?” Lottie asked, fear across her features.
Before Jeane could answer, Fergus spoke.
“She will make ye better.”
“I will do all I can to help her,” Jeane said, smiling at Lottie.
They stepped outside, shutting the door behind them, and Jeane glared at Fergus.
“Ye cannae make me make promises to the lass I cannae keep,” she warned.
“Ye’ll heal her, or I will have ye head,” he said sharply, even though he did not mean it. He would not kill a woman, but Jeane did not have to know that.
He needed Lottie better, and Jeane was going to make it happen.
“I cannae control yer sister’s body or how she heals,” Jeane shot back. “I’m a healer, nae a god.”
“I daenae care what ye say. Ye will heal me sister.”
He liked this feisty side of the lass. He liked the lass in general, if he was honest with himself. He had not had much interest in women since his accident. Not particularly. Only to warm his bed, not to let into his heart.
But Jeane seemed different. Mysterious. Alive.
It made something long dead in his chest start breathing again, and Fergus did not know what to do with it.
Aiden returned, skulking outside the door, and Fergus came out into the hall, reluctantly withdrawing from the argument with Jeane. He shut the door to let Jeane finish her examination.
“What did the healer say?” Aiden asked anxiously.
Fergus clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“She will be all right, Aiden. Daenae fret so. We’ve got a healer now. Morna’s death took us all by surprise,” Fergus said, speaking of their previous healer. She had been an old woman but had shown no signs of decline until Mary found her, lying dead in her bed. “How far away is yer brother?”
“Nae far. I have him near the castle, just in case we ever did get a healer,” Aiden admitted.
Fergus nodded. “Then I will take her to him. Have ye called a meeting with the council?”
“Aye, we meet at midnight,” Aiden told him.
Fergus had been worried he’d be bored to death by the last meeting, but there was plenty to talk about in this one.
The Leary clan was still out there. Still wanted Fergus’ head.
“Midnight it is, then.” Fergus paused. “What do ye think of the healer?”
“She’s pretty,” Aiden answered, and Fergus felt his shoulders stiffen. His fists clenched, his eyes darkening as he looked at the other man.
“Aye,” he said quietly, almost a whisper, and Aiden’s eyes widened.
“I didnae mean it like that, Me Laird. Ye ken I—”
“I ken,” Fergus said gently. He knew that Aiden wished to marry Lottie, and Fergus was taking it under consideration. All he wanted was for her sister to be safe, close by, and loved. Aiden would do that.
Jeane came out of Lottie’s room, interrupting the two men.
“I gave her some medicine. It should help her rest. The more rest she gets, the quicker she will heal,” Jeane said.
“What medicine? How long before she’s better?”
Jeane held out her hands as if in defense. “Some medicine to help her cough up the fluid. I cannae tell ye that. I’m doing everythin’ I can, but she might not be well for some time.”
“I will give ye a fortnight?”
Jeane stared at him. “Ye cannae put a deadline on this kind of thing, Me Laird—”
“Nay,” he agreed. “But I am, all the same. Ye’ll have a fortnight to make her better.”
“Or what?” Jeane asked, her brown eyes cool as she looked up at him.
He did not answer.
“Are ye up for one more visit?” he asked.
Jeane stared at him for a long moment but then simply nodded, and Fergus followed Aiden out to his horse, riding toward the staff’s quarters, where Aiden had put his mother and youngest brother.
“Daenae worry,” Fergus said gently. “Jeane will help him.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Jeane asked.
“Same as Lottie but worse. Cough, fever. Waking up at all hours of the night.”
Fergus was not so sure that she could help, but he wanted his friend to have hope. The boy was much worse off than Lottie was.
“His name is Ian,” Aiden explained.
Fergus walked close behind her, trying not to stare at the lines of her body. The lass was terrified of nearly everything. There was no way she could ever love a man like him, a man with his face, but it was a happy thought at least.
He did not want her getting away, not just yet.
He knew of Laird McKay, and he had not heard much good about him. He had only heard of how harsh he was with his wife and child, how power-hungry. It was no wonder that Jeane did not want to go back.
They walked to the staff quarters with Jeane and Fergus following Aiden inside.
The bed was set up in the foyer near the windows.
“Thought the fresh air might help,” Aiden’s mother said, worrying her skirt between her hands.
“Aye,” Aiden said. “I’ve brought a healer, Ma. Let her take a look at Ian.”
“I’m… Liliana,” Jeane said haltingly.
“Ada Jones,” Aiden’s mother introduced herself.
The boy was asleep, sweat across his brow, much like Lottie. He was small, looked about eight years old, but Fergus knew the boy was going on twelve, just sickly and small for his age.
Jeane kneeled next to him, pressing her head against his chest. The boy stirred and coughed once, twice, but did not wake.
Jeane frowned, standing up straight. She looked at Aiden’s mother.
“Has he been coughin’ up anythin’?”
“Some sputum. Some blood,” Aiden’s mother admitted, worrying her dress harder.
Jeane hummed in the back of her throat. “How long has he been sick?”
“All his life,” Aiden’s mother mourned. “I fear he’s nae got long in this world.”
Fergus watched as Jeane stepped forward, taking Aiden’s mother’s hands in her own.
“I fear ye’re right, Me Lady,” Jeane said gently. “It’s his lungs. They’re filled with fluid instead of air. He will need a lot of care.”
“But will he live?” the woman asked in a raspy whisper.
Jeane hesitated. “I cannae say for sure. I daenae think he will ever be able to run around and play like other boys his age. His lungs seem too weak for that.”
The mother gave a small, bitter smile. “Aye, lass. We ken that much. Me Ian has never been like the other boys.”
Fergus froze. Wasn’t what was wrong with Ian also wrong with Lottie? Would she fail to thrive, fail to live a normal life?
Jeane rifled around in her bag, handing the woman a few draughts.
“This one, ye’ll give to him in the mornin’. The other, the evenin’.”
“Aye,” the mother nodded and took them gratefully. “Thank ye so much, Me Laird,” she said, looking over at Fergus.
Fergus nodded. “Yer welcome, but thank the lass, nae me.”
“Thank ye, healer,” the mother said, and Jeane nodded and turned to check on Ian once more. The boy did not wake.
“I will be back in two days’ time,” Jeane said.
“Thank ye,” Aiden’s mother said again, squeezing Jeane’s hands, and Jeane smiled at her.
Aiden nodded at Fergus, and Fergus knew he’d be seeing him at the council meeting at midnight. For now, Aiden stayed behind with his family.
As they walked out of the small room, Jeane turned her head toward Fergus.
“I ken what ye’re thinkin’.”
“Do ye, little mouse?”
“Lottie isnae the same as Ian,” she said quickly, and something tight in Fergus’ chest relaxed.
“She was struck ill. Ian has been ill all his life. Was probably born with bad lungs. It’ll take a long time for him to recover, and he will never be like other boys because of the length of time he’s been sick. ”
Fergus nodded. “Aye, he’s been strugglin’ since he was a wee babe.”
“Lottie can recover more easily,” Jeane assured him. “But it is dangerous. I will have to keep a close eye on her. And Ian, too. I will need more supplies.”
“Aye. Anythin’ ye need, little mouse. I had the staff clean out Morna’s room before I went out yesterday. Ye’ll live in the castle, close to Lottie’s quarters.”
Jeane blinked at him. “Ye want me to live at the McCloud castle?”
“Ye will,” Fergus said easily. “Ye did well in there. Ye had to give bad news, and ye did it respectfully. Ye will be a good healer.”
Jeane frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Aye. Take it or leave it.”
Fergus held up a hand to help her mount the horse, and she took it, her fingers small and cold in his.
“Ye’re still cold,” he said. “I will have the staff bring ye some of Lottie’s wool dresses.”
Jeane nodded, not speaking as they traveled back to the castle. She seemed subdued, but Fergus supposed anyone would be after the poor news she had just had to give.
It was not a death sentence, thank the Lord, but it was not good news, either.
Ian would never be the strapping man that his brother was.
Fergus respected her for not lying to Aiden’s mother, for giving her the news plainly, and for setting the right expectations for his recovery.
It showed strength, something that Jeane seemed to have plenty of.
It was a very attractive quality in a woman in Fergus’ estimation.