Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"Ye're starin’ at me."
Mhairi opened her eyes to find Alpin propped on one elbow in her bed, watching her with an expression somewhere between amusement and concern. Morning light streamed through the window, painting golden stripes across the rumpled sheets.
"How long have ye been awake?" she asked, her voice still rough with sleep.
"Long enough tae watch ye sleep." His mouth quirked.
He pressed a quick kiss to the nape of her neck before getting up. "Get dressed, lass. Before I forget we have responsibilities and keep ye in this room all day."
"Ye wouldnae."
"Try me."
Mhairi dressed quickly after that.
Alpin handed her clothing as she needed it, watching with obvious appreciation as she made herself presentable.
"Ye're still starin’," she observed while braiding her hair.
"I'm admirin’. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Aye. Starin’ is rude. Admirin’ is payin’ proper tribute tae something beautiful." He caught her hand, pulling her close for a quick kiss. "And ye, Mhairi Munro, are very beautiful."
"Ye're goin’ tae make me late."
"Worth it." But he released her anyway, moving to the door. "I'll go first. Wait a few minutes, then follow. Nay point in makin’ the servants gossip more than they already will."
"They're goin’ tae ken anyway. Ye spent the night in me chamber."
"Aye, but we can at least pretend tae be discreet." He paused with his hand on the door latch. "Mhairi?"
"Aye?"
"Last night was... it meant something to me. Just so ye ken."
Her heart squeezed. "It meant something to me too."
He smiled, that rare full smile that transformed his entire face, then slipped out into the corridor.
Mhairi waited the appropriate few minutes, though every second felt like an eternity. Finally she opened the door, checked that the hallway was empty, and stepped out.
She made it perhaps three steps before running directly into Freya.
"Mornin’, miss!" The maid's eyes were dancing with barely suppressed curiosity. "Ye look... well-rested."
"I am, thank ye." Mhairi's face was definitely burning now.
"I'm sure ye did." Freya fell into step beside her as they headed toward the stairs. "And the laird? Did he sleep well too?"
"How would I ken how the laird slept?"
"Oh, nay particular reason. Just that I saw him leavin’ this wing of the castle about five minutes ago, lookin’ quite pleased with himself." Freya's grin was positively wicked. "Wearin’ the same clothes as yesterday, I might add."
Mhairi groaned. "Daes everyone ken?"
"Nae everyone. Just everyone who was awake and paying attention." At Mhairi's horrified expression, Freya laughed. "Relax. People are happy fer ye both. The laird's been alone too long, and ye... well, ye deserve some happiness after everything ye've been through."
"I need tae get tae the healin’ chambers."
"Of course ye dae." Freya was still grinning. "Though ye might want tae dae something about that mark on yer neck first."
Mhairi's hand flew to her throat. "What mark?"
"The one right... there." Freya pointed. "About the size of a man's mouth, I'd say."
"Oh God."
"I'd offer ye powder tae cover it, but honestly? Wear it proud, miss. Let people ken ye're spoken fer."
By the time Mhairi reached the healing chambers, she'd managed to position her shawl to hide the mark Alpin had left on her neck.
Though from the knowing look Donnach gave her when she walked in, she suspected it hadn't worked as well as she'd hoped.
"Mornin’, lass," the old healer said, his weathered face creasing into a smile. "Ye look... refreshed."
"Please dinnae start."
"Start what?" He was definitely trying not to laugh. "Now come over here. We've got a lot tae cover today."
Grateful for the change of subject, Mhairi moved to the worktable where Donnach had set out various strips of cloth, a wooden practice arm, and what looked like a collection of old injuries that had been preserved somehow for teaching purposes.
"Today we're workin’ on bandagin’ technique," Donnach explained. "Seems simple enough, aye? Wrap cloth around a wound, tie it off. But there's an art tae it. Too loose and the bandage willnae hold. Too tight and ye cut off blood flow, which can cause more damage than the original injury."
"How dae ye ken when it's right?"
"Practice. Lots and lots of practice." He demonstrated on the wooden arm, his gnarled fingers moving with surprising dexterity.
"See how I'm keepin’ the pressure even? And how I'm anglin’ the cloth so each wrap overlaps the previous one by about half?
That ensures complete coverage without using too much material. "
Mhairi watched closely, noting the way he secured the end with a specific type of knot that wouldn't slip but could be easily undone when needed.
"Now ye try."
She picked up a fresh strip of cloth and approached the wooden arm. How hard could it be? She'd watched Donnach do it and she understood the principle.
She wrapped the cloth around the arm, trying to match his technique. But somehow the pressure wasn't even, the cloth bunched in places and gaped in others. When she tied it off, the whole thing immediately slipped loose.
"Too uneven," Donnach observed. "Try again, and this time focus on keepin’ yer hands steady. The cloth should flow around the limb, nae bunch up."
Mhairi unwrapped the cloth and started over. This time she went slower, really concentrating on keeping the pressure consistent. But she must have pulled too tight because halfway through, Donnach stopped her.
"That's cuttin’ off circulation. On a real patient, that would be painful and potentially dangerous. It shouldnae cut intae the skin."
Frustration flared hot in her chest. She'd done so well with other aspects of healing, why was this simple task defeating her?
"Again," Donnach said patiently.
She tried again. The wrap slipped loose immediately.
Again. Too tight.
Again. The angle was wrong, leaving gaps.
Mhairi exhaled sharply, pulling the cloth off with more force than necessary. "I cannae get it right."
"Ye've been at it fer ten minutes." Donnach's tone was mild. "I've been doing this fer thirty years and I still occasionally wrap too tight or too loose. Skill takes repetition and time, lass."
"But I should be getting’ it by now. I understand the principle, I ken what I'm supposed tae dae."
"Understandin’ and daeing are two different things." He took the cloth from her hands. "Watch me again, but this time pay attention nae just tae what I'm daeing, but tae how it feels. The rhythm of it."
He demonstrated again, slower this time. Mhairi forced herself to really watch, to see beyond just the mechanical movements to the subtle adjustments he made with each wrap.
"Now ye," Donnach said. "And stop thinkin’ so hard. Let yer hands remember what yer eyes saw."
Mhairi picked up a fresh cloth strip, took a deep breath, and tried again.
This time it was... better.
Still not perfect—there was a slight gap near the elbow—but the pressure was more even, the angle more consistent.
"Better," Donnach confirmed. "Much better. Now dae it again."
They spent the next hour practicing, with Mhairi wrapping and unwrapping the wooden arm over and over. Gradually, her technique improved. The wraps became more consistent, the knots more secure.
"Good," Donnach finally said. "Ye're getting’ it. Now let's try on an actual person."
He called in a passing servant who was not busy doing anything to serve as a practice patient. The young man barely twenty, with a friendly face extended his arm gamely.
"Go easy on me, miss," he joked. "I'm rather fond of this arm."
"I'll dae me best." Mhairi's hands were shaking slightly as she picked up the cloth.
This was different from the wooden arm. This was a real person with real circulation and real nerves that could be damaged if she got it wrong. But to be honest, also less slipepry than the wooden arm.
"Start at the wrist," Donnach instructed. "Work yer way up."
Mhairi began wrapping, hyperaware of every movement. Was she pulling too tight? Not tight enough? The guard's face remained neutral, giving her no feedback.
"How daes that feel?" she asked as she worked.
"Fine so far, miss."
She continued upward, trying to maintain the same rhythm Donnach had shown her. When she reached the elbow, she had to adjust the angle. That was the tricky part, where most of her practice wraps had failed.
"Steady," Donnach murmured. "Ye're daein’ well."
She finished the wrap and tied it off, then stepped back to examine her work. It wasn't perfect, there was still a slight unevenness near the wrist, but it was functional. The cloth held secure, the pressure looked consistent.
"How daes it feel?" she asked the lad anxiously.
He flexed his arm experimentally. "Good, miss. Snug but nae too tight. I can move freely enough."
Relief flooded through her. "Really?"
"Really."
Donnach was smiling. "Well done, lass. That was a solid first attempt on a real patient. With more practice, ye'll be bindin’ wounds in yer sleep."
The servant thanked her and left, and Mhairi found herself grinning despite her earlier frustration. She'd done it. Not perfectly, but competently enough that a real patient felt comfortable with her work.
"See?" Donnach said. "All it takes is patience and practice. Ye've got the hands fer this, Mhairi. And more importantly, ye've got the heart. The technical skills will come with time."
"Thank ye fer bein’ patient with me when I was getting frustrated."
"Every healer gets frustrated when learnin’ new skills. I threw an entire tray of instruments across this room once when I couldnae master a particularly difficult suturing technique." He chuckled at the memory. "The important thing is that ye kept tryin’ instead of givin’ up."
They spent the rest of the morning practicing on various volunteers from the castle. By midday, When Donnach finally declared the lesson over, Mhairi's hands were tired but steady, and her heart was full.
That was what she was meant to do.
That was who she was meant to be.