Chapter 5
Amanda looked down into the flushed face of the young man, then raised his head off the ground and felt his forehead with the back of her hand, finding it unnaturally hot and sweaty.
He was not deeply unconscious, but delirious, muttering unintelligible words and shivering uncontrollably.
She knew that if he was not treated quickly, his condition would become worse and might even be fatal.
She knew what to do, but she had none of her medication with her, since it had all been left at the carriage. Then she remembered one thing that she always carried with her, and took it out of her pocket.
Willow bark was the best thing for lowering fever, and Amanda made sure she always had some on hand, but there was not enough for her needs.
“I need some more willow bark,” she said urgently, “and water. Can any of you get some for me?”
“Get it yourself!” Fiona snapped, before turning on her heel and flouncing away.
Forcing down her anger, Amanda tucked the piece of bark under his tongue.
“Do not spit it out,” she told him.
She was not sure if he could hear her, but she had to try. She asked two of the men to lift her patient into a place where she could treat him, and was led to one of the biggest tents, which she thought that she could make into a makeshift infirmary.
He was laid down on a cot, and Amanda checked him over again to see if he had any more wounds, but there were none. She was not happy about leaving him in this situation, however, but it seemed that she had no choice. She asked one of the women to sit by him, then asked his name.
“Jimmy,” the woman replied. “He sharpens a’ the blades o’ the swords an’ knives. That is likely how he cut himself.”
Grateful for her help, Amanda said, “Can you tell me your name, please?”
“I am tellin’ ye nothin’ more, Sassenach,” the woman said scathingly, then walked away.
Amanda sighed. Getting these people’s cooperation was like banging her head against a brick wall. She looked around, saw a bucket in the corner of the tent, and picked it up. She ran outside, but stopped first to go to see the women who were grinding the herbs.
“I need some willow bark,” she said hurriedly. “There is a young man called Jimmy out there who has a fever and an infection, and I need to lower his temperature. Do you have any?”
They conversed briefly amongst themselves, looking concerned, then one of them said, “We dinnae have any here, but there are willow trees down by the river. Ye can get some there.”
“Thank you.”
Amanda turned and ran a few hundred yards down to the river, where she saw two willow trees standing with their branches drooping into the fast-flowing water.
She stopped to strip off some bark and stuff the fragments in a pouch she kept tied to her belt for that purpose, then went down to the waterside, where she took off her boots.
Looking at the river, she was not at all sure that she wanted to go in again, but she had to. Jimmy’s life might depend on it.
Once again, Amanda thought of the helpless young man lying on the ground and a wave of pity washed over her, as well as anger that very few people in the small community seemed to want to help him.
The ground beside the river was slick and muddy, so Amanda stood on a boulder to steady herself, then she bent down to dip the bucket in the water.
At that moment, however, there was a splash as a large stone fell into the river, and the boulder on which she was standing suddenly became too slippery to stand on.
She yelped, and her arms windmilled in the air as she tried to balance, but it was no good. Her feet could not gain purchase on the slick surface of the rock, and they skidded out from under her.
As she slid into the water, the back of her head hit the hard surface of the boulder, and stars erupted before her eyes before blackness took over.
However, it was only for a few seconds, and she recovered momentarily as her head was sucked under the turbulent water, and she breathed in a lungful of it.
The shock of the icy river brought her consciousness back, and she managed to reach the surface again, then took in great gulps of air, her heart hammering in panic as she did so. She tried to find purchase on the bottom of the river, but it was too deep, and her feet could not reach far enough.
Once more, Amanda was dragged under the water, but this time she found it almost impossible to surface. Her arms were aching from trying to keep herself afloat, and her chest felt as though it was on fire as she coughed convulsively, trying to empty her lungs of the invading river water.
She was weakening, she knew, but she would not give up without a fight. She had never been taught how to swim, but perhaps if she tried to stay afloat long enough someone would come to rescue her.
“Help!” she yelled. “Help! I’m drowning!”
Her next words were cut off as the water sucked her under again. She felt a stab of despair shoot through her. These were her last moments. She was going to die.
Amanda could not speak, for her lungs were full of water, but she conjured up a picture of her sisters in her mind, both of them smiling, both happy with their adoring husbands, Rose with her baby.
She was sorry, however, that she would never see Claire’s child, or have one of her own.
She was glad for both of them, and she had the comfort of knowing that their lives would be full of love, even if hers never could be.
Then, suddenly, she found herself kicking up to the surface again as the will to survive took over, and with her last ounce of strength she yelled, “Help me!”
She gave one final kick and felt the strength in her legs and arms ebb away, then it was all over.
Hamish had ridden hard through the forest, his jaw clenched in anger after what he had seen in the village of Inchkeith.
It was not yet sunset, and it was not his custom to return to the camp before nightfall, but he could not shake Amanda Tewsbury out of his mind.
He needed to speak to her urgently and tell her what was on his mind—and most of all, he needed her to agree to work with him to end the feud with his brother once and for all.
If it could be done peacefully, well and good.
If not, then he would do whatever it took, even if it meant killing Struan.
That was not his aim, however, since he would much rather see the heartless wretch condemned to a life of imprisonment until the day he died. He needed Amanda’s help to do it, but for that to happen they had to work out a plan.
The plight of the old people and the children that he had seen that day was breaking his heart. He did as much as he could for them, hunting, fishing, fixing their tumbledown cottages, but it was never enough.
“What’s wrong wi’ ye?” the man riding beside him asked, frowning. “We never go back before it’s dark. Somethin’s got intae ye. Tell me what it is.”
Hamish sighed and ran his hand back through his hair in a gesture of great agitation. Gregor was a tall, dark man, older than Hamish, but more immature than his age would suggest. Nevertheless, he was the finest and most trustworthy warrior Hamish had.
As Hamish’s second, Gregor knew that look, and it did not bode well for any of them.
Hamish had something on his mind, and when that happened, it usually ended in violence of some sort.
But as he looked at his friend’s face, he suddenly suspected that something else was troubling him—something of an entirely different nature.
Gregor could see how difficult it was for him to come out and say it, and Hamish was rarely lost for words, so he grinned and asked mischievously,“Is it the Sassenach?”
Hamish whipped around to look at his friend, annoyed by his flippant tone.
“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning deeply.
“I mean, why are ye keepin’ her here?” Gregor asked. “Dae ye have a plan for her?”
Hamish nodded. “She is expected at the castle, and Struan will let her in,” he replied. “The old bastard who was sent to get her is dead, and we have the coach driver in our custody, so my brother is none the wiser. We have to look after her properly.”
Hamish looked at him keenly. “But that isnae a’ that is worryin’ ye.”
“No,” Hamish admitted. “Something is wrong. I feel it in my bones, but I have no idea what it is.”
He urged his horse into a canter and a few moments later they entered the camp. Fiona came out to meet them, wearing a wide, welcoming grin as she saw Hamish. As he dismounted, she went up to reach out to him, but he took a firm step backwards, frowning at her.
“Ye’re early in the day!” she remarked, looking up at the sky, which was just beginning to darken. “In a hurry tae see yer Sassenach?” Her voice was scornful, as was her expression.
“Not in a hurry, no, Fiona,” he replied, looking around for Amanda. “I did want to talk to her about something, though.”
Fiona pointed to the tent where the fevered patient was lying, and Hamish peeped inside. He was horrified by the sight of the young man, who was lying, flushed and bathed in sweat, writhing and moaning in distress.
“What happened to Jimmy?”
“He had a wound that got infected. The Sassenach went tae get willow bark for him,” Fiona told him. “But that was a while ago. She should have been back long before now.”
Hamish stared at her in disbelief. “And you never thought to go and look for her? You never thought to get it yourself and let Amanda—a trained healer—look after him? My god, Fiona. I thought you were better than that!”
Fiona’s mouth dropped open, and she was utterly unable to speak for a moment, then she asked, “Dae ye think she might have run away? Well, I hope she has! She is probably a spy anyway.”
Hamish could listen to her no more, and he turned and sprinted towards the river, wondering if Fiona was right.
Amanda could have swum across the water and disappeared into the woodlands on the other side.
Nobody would find her there. He would have to bring out his hunting dogs to sniff her out, and even then, it would likely be impossible, since her scent would have been washed away.
Damn it! Why did I leave her untied? he thought furiously. Hamish, you are such a fool!
“Amanda!” he called. “Come back! I will not hurt you!”
He waited for a moment, but there was no answer, so he called again.
What if he had lost her? Losing her meant losing his best chance to help his people.
Dreadful thoughts made his skin prickle with panic.
His plan had failed. He would never be able to save his people and Amanda…
how would a Sassenach like her survive the wildness of the Highlands alone?
Another soul Hamish failed to protect…
Then, he heard the faint sound of a woman’s voice, calling for help, before it was abruptly cut off.
Chills went down his spine at the sound.
He recognised that voice, and suddenly another possibility occurred to him.
Amanda had fallen in the river and was drowning, but it might not be too late to save her.
His heart lurched, and he speeded up his pace, then skidded to a stop on the bank. He immediately saw by the turbulence in the water that someone was moving under the surface, churning the current into white frothy waves. It might not be too late.
Hamish did not think twice. He did not stop to strip off his boots or any of his clothes, but launched himself into the strong current of the river, feeling its pull almost immediately. If he, a big strong man, was having trouble fighting against the current, what chance did a little woman have?