Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
"There's sickness in the southern villages."
Magnus looked up from the ledger he'd been studying, squinting against the morning light streaming through the narrow window of his study. Torvald stood in the doorway, his expression grim.
"How bad?"
"Bad enough that they sent a runner. Fever, mostly. Some vomitin’. Started three days ago and it's spreadin' fast." Torvald moved into the room, closing the door behind him. "Mairi's still on Lewis, helpin' with a difficult birth. She willnae be back fer at least a few days."
Magnus cursed under his breath. The island healer was one of the few people he trusted completely—skilled, practical, and utterly loyal to Barra's people. Without her, they were left with hedge witches and prayer.
"How many are sick?"
"A dozen, maybe more by now. Mostly the fishin' families near the southern shore." Torvald crossed his arms. "I can take supplies and go meself."
"Nay. I'll go." Magnus stood, already moving toward the chest where he kept traveling gear. "If it's spreadin', me people need tae see their laird takin' it seriously."
"And the lady?"
Magnus's hands stilled on the leather satchel he'd been pulling out. "What about her?"
"She's still here. Still yer intended bride, whether ye like it or nae." Torvald's tone was carefully neutral. "Brian's already askin' questions about when the ceremony will be. Ye cannae avoid her ferever."
"I'm nae avoidin' her. I'm givin' us both time tae—" Magnus stopped, shook his head. "It daesnae matter. She'll stay here while we're gone. Isla can see tae her needs."
"Aye, if ye say so."
They gathered supplies quickly—clean cloth for bandages, dried herbs that might help with fever, waterskins, bread and dried meat for the journey. Magnus sent word to the stables to prepare horses, then made his way down to the courtyard.
The morning was gray and cold, typical for Barra. Wind whipped across the stones, carrying the smell of salt and rain. Magnus pulled his cloak tighter as he waited for the horses to be brought round.
"Me laird?"
He turned. Ada stood at the edge of the courtyard, still wearing one of the plain gowns Isla must have found for her. Her blonde hair was braided back, her face pale but determined.
"Lady Ada." Magnus kept his voice neutral. "Is somethin' wrong?"
“Where are ye goin’?”
"Ridin' tae the southern villages. There are sickness reports I need tae see tae."
"Take me with ye."
Magnus stared at her. "That's nae possible."
"Why nae?"
"Because it's nae proper fer a lady tae ride intae a village full of sickness."
"I'm a healer." Ada moved closer, her chin lifted in that stubborn way he was beginning to recognize. "I've spent the last year workin' with healers and midwives across the Highlands. I ken how tae treat fever, how tae make poultices."
"The answer is nay."
"Me laird."
"I said nay." Magnus turned back toward the stables, dismissing her. "Stay in the keep. Isla will see tae yer needs."
He heard her sharp intake of breath behind him. Good. Let her be angry.
But then she moved around to stand directly in his path, blocking him.
"Yer people are sick," she said, her voice low and urgent. "Ye dinnae have a healer, I heard some maids talking about her. And I'm offerin' tae help. What harm could it dae? Dinnae ye want tae help yer people?"
"Ye could get sick yerself."
"I've been around sickness before. I ken how tae protect meself."
"Ye could slow us down."
"I'm a good rider."
"Ye—" Magnus stopped, frustrated. "Why dae ye care? These are nae yer people. Ye're only here because the king commanded it."
"Because I can help. A healer cannae ignore the need fer help. It is part of who I am. Because…" She stopped, seemed to gather herself. "Because if I'm tae be lady of this keep, then they are me people. Whether ye like it or nae."
Magnus studied her face. She meant it, he realized. This wasn't some ploy tae gain his favor or prove something. She genuinely wanted to help.
And God knew they needed help.
"If ye slow us down," he said finally, "I'll send ye back."
Hope flared in her eyes. "I willnae."
"If ye get sick…"
"I willnae."
"And ye'll dae exactly as I say. Nay arguments, nay questions."
"Aye. I promise."
Magnus wanted to refuse anyway. Wanted to send her back to her chamber, where she'd be safe and out of his way and not complicating things further. But Torvald was right, she was his intended bride. His people would have to accept her eventually. And if she truly had healing skills...
"Fine," he said. "But stay close, and dinnae touch anythin' without askin' first."
Ada's face lit up with something that looked dangerously close to gratitude. "Thank ye."
She hurried off to prepare, leaving Magnus standing in the courtyard wondering what he'd just agreed to.
Torvald appeared at his elbow. "That was almost kind of ye."
"Shut up."
"She might actually be useful."
"Or she might be a liability we cannae afford." Magnus moved toward the stables where the horses waited.
They rode out within the hour—Magnus, Torvald, Ada, and two guards. The path to the southern villages wound along the coast, rocky and treacherous in places. The sea churned gray and restless below them, waves crashing against black stone.
Ada rode well, Magnus noted grudgingly. She kept pace without complaint, her seat in the saddle confident despite the rough terrain. She'd borrowed one of Isla's riding gowns and a heavy cloak, both too big for her slight frame, but she didn't seem to care.
They'd been riding for a while when Ada's horse stumbled.
The mare had been favoring her left foreleg for the last mile, Magnus had noticed, though he hadn't said anything. Now she pulled up short with a pained whinny, nearly throwing Ada from the saddle.
Magnus reined in immediately. "Hold."
Ada was already dismounting, moving to examine the horse's leg with quick, practiced movements. Magnus swung down from his own mount and joined her.
"She's pulled somethin'," Ada said, running her hands gently down the mare's leg. "Nae broken, but she shouldnae be ridden."
Magnus cursed under his breath. They were still miles from the village, and turning back would cost hours they didn't have.
"She can ride with me," Torvald offered.
"Nay." Magnus made the decision before he'd fully thought it through. "Yer horse is already carryin' the medical supplies. The extra weight would slow ye down too much." He looked at Ada. "Ye'll ride with me."
Ada's eyes widened slightly. "Are ye sure?"
"Dae ye have a better suggestion?"
"Nay."
"Then get yer things and let's go. We're losin' daylight."
Ada gathered her small pack, then approached Magnus's horse with visible reluctance.
The stallion was tall, nearly seventeen hands, and broad enough to carry two riders comfortably. But "comfortably" didn't account for the fact that Ada would be sitting directly in front of Magnus, pressed against his chest for the rest of the ride.
Magnus tried very hard not to think about that.
He mounted first, then extended his hand down to her. "Come on."
Ada took his hand. Her fingers were cold, he noticed, and smaller than he'd expected. He pulled her up easily, settling her sideways in front of him. She fit against him awkwardly at first, too stiff, trying to keep space between them that didn't exist.
"Ye'll have tae lean back," Magnus said, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "Or ye'll fall off when we start movin'."
"Of course." Ada shifted, her back pressing against his chest. She was small enough that the top of her head barely reached his chin. He could smell her hair, some herb he didn't recognize, clean and faintly sweet.
Magnus tried very hard not to think about that either.
He nudged the horse forward. Ada tensed immediately, her hands gripping the front of the saddle.
"Relax," Magnus said. "I willnae let ye fall."
"I ken that, I just—" She stopped. Took a breath. "I'm fine."
She wasn't fine. He could feel the rigidity in her shoulders, the way she held herself carefully away from him despite having nowhere to go. It would be easier if she'd just give in to it, lean into him properly instead of fighting the inevitable.
"This was yer idea," Magnus reminded her. "Ye wanted tae come."
"I ken that."
"Then stop actin' like I'm goin' tae throw ye off the horse."
Ada made a small sound that might have been a laugh or a scoff, he couldn't tell. But slowly, incrementally, she relaxed. Her weight settled more fully against him, her back conforming to his chest. The tension in her shoulders eased.
Better. That was better.
Magnus told himself it was only practical. That having her fight him the entire way would be exhausting for them both. That this meant nothing beyond necessity.
But he was aware, painfully aware, of every point where their bodies touched. The curve of her spine against his chest. The way her hip pressed into his thigh. The softness of her even through layers of wool and leather.
He tried very hard not to think about that most of all.
They rode in silence for a while. The path grew rougher as they descended toward the coast, forcing Magnus to slow the pace. Ada swayed with the horse's movements, her head occasionally brushing against his shoulder when they hit a particularly rough patch.
"How far?" she asked eventually.
"Not much longer."
"And ye said it's mostly fever?"
"Aye. Some vomiting. It started suddenly three days ago."
Ada was quiet for a moment. "That's fast fer a natural sickness tae spread. Usually takes longer."
"What are ye suggestin'?"
"I'm nae suggestin' anythin'. Just... thinkin'.
" She shifted slightly, turning her head to look up at him.
Their faces were very close suddenly. Magnus could see the gold flecks in her hazel-green eyes, the faint freckles across her nose.
"When we get there, let me speak with them.
Ask questions. Sometimes people tell a healer things they willnae tell their laird. "