Chapter 26 #2
When her bags were packed, she left, arriving at the home of the struggling pregnant woman.
She found the woman’s husband pacing frantically outside the small cottage, further highlighting the heartbreak that would ensue if the woman died.
In that moment, she contemplated sending for another healer.
Unfortunately, the closest one lived a three-day ride away. The woman would surely be dead by then.
For the sake of the woman and her unborn child, Talia had to be braver than she had ever been.
“Miss Collins,” the husband said, rushing to take her bag when he saw her.
“How is she?” Talia asked, stepping into the small hot room where the woman lay on her back, her stomach looking even bigger now on her tired body, her face glistening with tears and sweat, her breath coming in big huffs.
She was growing weak, and from Talia’s previous examination, it seemed the child lay in a sideways position, so there was only one thing to do. Something a little bit mad.
Talia had seen it done for mares in Jonathan’s stables, and she had thought it possible to replicate on a human. When she had suggested it to Ayaan, he had brushed her aside, insisting it was barbaric and only suited for animals.
Fortunately, she was now the healer in charge, and she did not have any other choice but to do that, or else the woman would die with her child.
She was going to maneuver the baby while it was still in its mother’s womb so that it could be born.
Through tears, curses, prayers, and a great deal of intuition and skill, she managed to turn the child in his mother’s womb.
His first cry of outrage brought so much joy and relief to her. She had never been so grateful to hear a baby cry as she had been that day. After cleaning him up and handing him to the happy new parents, she left, heading towards the home of the boy who had broken his arm.
Apparently, he had gotten the not-so-bright idea to climb a tree close to the house and had eventually slipped, falling and breaking his arm.
She only extricated that information from him after applying some pressure.
Apparently, he had no desire for his parents to learn that he had fallen while trying to sneak into the bedroom of their neighbor’s daughter, whom he claimed to be in love with.
Between tears, frustration, sweat, and fierce concentration, she set the bones and restricted them with a makeshift sling, warning him to be careful with his arm until it healed. But even before she left, she could tell that he would not listen.
Most young men did not. Not because of maliciousness or recklessness, but because they needed to work and earn money. They simply did not have the time to wait in bed while they waited for a limb to heal. But that night, as she fell into bed with mind-numbing fatigue, she felt fulfilled and proud.
That one day was the beginning of many hard days that had made her into the brave healer she was. In the midst of all this, she had barely had a chance to spare a thought for Ayaan until he had shown up at McGhee Castle.
In the midst of all that chaos and his subtle cruelty, how was she supposed to suspect that he had softer feelings for her? Because he had never treated her like a man in love. Even Darragh, when he had been actively fighting attraction to her, had treated her better.
“But ye left, Ayaan,” she said, affecting sadness. “I didnae ken what to do when ye left me alone. I was verrra grateful when I finally had the chance to leave.”
Men like Ayaan loved to have their giant egos stroked, and she hoped that his arrogance would work in her favor this time and she would be able to defuse the situation.
“I didnae want to,” he spat, his anger flaring hotter. “I left because Jonathan refused to give me yer hand.”
“Perhaps because ye followed the wrong process. Ye didnae even try to speak to me about the tendre ye had for me before asking him.”
“Only guardians have the right to accept an offer on behalf of a lady,” he retorted, watching her skeptically, like she was speaking a strange language.
“Even if Jonathan accepted yer proposal, it wouldnae have guaranteed me agreement,” she said firmly.
“Ye have nay choice but to follow his orders,” he declared flippantly, as if it were an indisputable fact.
He was so sure of her being subservient to Jonathan.
“Then it just goes to show that ye daenae ken me, if ye truly believe that I can be forced to do what I daenae want to,” she said, her voice sharpening with annoyance.
“But I ken ye verra well. Ye were verra agreeable when ye learned under me. Laird McGhee has ruined ye. It wasnae enough that he took ye from yer home, but he also proceeded to fill yer head with verra twisted ideas.”
“Ye are wrong, Ayaan. I was always this way. I always had a mind of me own, and the people who care about me ken this. Jonathan kent this, and Darragh found out shortly after meeting me. Ye are the only one who didnae ken.”
“But ye can change. Ye can become obedient…”
“I have nay plans to become obedient, and nay man who truly loves me will expect that.” She shot him down staunchly, barely keeping her temper in check.
At this point, Darragh had had enough of trying to placate the man. Turnbull could go to hell, as far as he was concerned.
“Talia and I love each other. Ye will stay away if ye ken what is best for ye,” he said, coming to stand beside Talia.
Just like he had predicted, Turnbull loosed an arrow. It happened so fast that he only had time to shield Talia, but it still came as a shock when pain splintered through his shoulder, burning with the force of a brand, turning his arm into dead weight and numbing his fingers.
A quick look confirmed his suspicion. The arrow had found a home close to his heart. An inch closer and he would not be breathing.
Ignoring the pain and the ringing in his ears, he broke the shaft and steadied his stance. There was no more time to waste, or they would soon be dead because Turnbull was already drawing back his bowstring to let another arrow fly.
With a roar filled with primitive rage, Darragh lunged towards him, drawing his sword and swinging it hard.
Turnbull was ready, using his bow as a makeshift sword, blocking the blow and jumping away.
Darragh could not deny it; the man was skilled in the art of self-defense.
Perhaps he had even taken lessons in. But he did not have the experience of a seasoned warrior, or even a young one, and he certainly was not filled with the rage and possessiveness that had overtaken him now.
He might be spry and strong thanks to his profession, which required some level of physical strength, but he was also older. He should never have attempted to pick a fight with a young, angry man who would do anything to protect the love of his life.
So Darragh landed blows on the bow, endured and dodged a nick or two, until the man tired and started becoming desperate. That desperation was his undoing, because in the next moment, Turnbull unintentionally left an opening as he tried to stab Darragh in the thigh.
Darragh’s sword found a home in the man’s gut, causing him to cough up blood. He watched with satisfaction as the light dimmed in the man’s eyes until they glazed over and he dropped dead to the ground with a dull thud.
When he turned back, Darragh found Talia covering her mouth in shock, her eyes fixed on the dead man.
That was when the gravity of what he had done dawned on him.
He had killed someone in front of his love, someone who had been dear to her at some point, and now he didn’t know if she was shocked or disgusted.
Only time would tell how this would affect their relationship.
He itched to move near her but his vision blurred and then blackened and then he found himself falling to the floor.