Chapter 6
Amanda’s head bobbed up to the surface one more time before Hamish could get to her, but as he put out his arms to grab her, she sank underwater again, utterly exhausted. Hamish dived under the surface of the water, only to see that her body had gone absolutely limp, and was sinking fast.
He kicked out and thrust towards her, then reached out to seize hold of her and pull her towards him. He felt no movement, since she was unable to do anything to help herself.
Not knowing if she could hear him, Hamish said urgently, “Amanda, I’ve got you. You are safe now.”
He was spluttering, coughing out river water, kicking and treading water to stay above the surface, desperately hoping his strength would not give out before he reached the shore.
Amanda neither moved nor spoke and was a dead weight in his grasp. Hamish somehow managed to pull them over to the shore and dragged them both out onto the muddy bank, where they lay face first in the mud. Hamish was gasping for breath, but Amanda was completely immobile.
Hamish’s heart skipped a beat, then began to thud in panic.
“Amanda!” he cried.
Was she dead?
“Open your eyes! Talk to me!”
Her dark hair was stuck on her face, her lips were tinged blue, and her eyes were closed.
He sat her up, then shook her and slapped her back, but, just as he was about to give up, Amanda coughed up a huge mouthful of water and began to swallow great lungfuls of air.
She could do nothing but cough for several minutes as she expelled great gouts of river water.
Hamish’s heart almost burst with relief. He pushed a hand through his fair hair, thanking all the saints that she was alright. He began to unbutton Amanda’s tight bodice to help her to breathe better, then they waited a few moments until she had fully recovered her breath and calmed down.
When she looked up at him, her eyes were streaming, with tears of shock—and something else.
“I didn’t run away,” she told him desperately. “Truly, I—”
Hamish put a finger over her mouth to stop her from speaking. “I know,” he said gently. “I know why you came here, Amanda. It was to help a sick person, and that is admirable. Do you think you can walk back to camp?”
Amanda nodded. “Yes, but please get some water so I can treat Jimmy,” she said. “He is in a bad way.”
Hamish was astounded at Amanda’s unselfishness. This woman had almost lost her life, yet her only concern at this moment was the welfare of someone else. His admiration for her increased in leaps and bounds.
“I won’t leave you alone in this condition,” he told her. “Someone else will have some. Think of yourself now, Amanda. You are safe with me.”
Amanda made sure that the pouch of willow bark was still attached to her belt, then fell into step beside Hamish as best she could. He put an arm around her waist, and they trudged forward slowly, both of them freezing and soaked to the skin.
While they were moving along, Amanda’s spirits sank to her toes. What would happen to her now? Had Hamish McNeill really believed that she was not running away? Would Fiona somehow manage to poison his mind against her?
Whatever her fate was, there was nothing she could do about it now, she thought, but she was so, so weary of being frightened. Perhaps it was time to accept her lot. She was a prisoner, and she might as well become accustomed to it.
Hamish could feel by her constant shivering that Amanda was freezing. “Not far now,” he assured her, as they saw tents through the trees. “Then you can dry yourself off, and I will have one of the ladies lend you some clothes.”
They emerged from the trees into the camp, whereupon every eye turned to look at them. Suddenly, Fiona raced over to them holding a blanket, her expression one of deep concern.
“What happened?” she asked, raising a brow. “Are ye a’ right, Sassenach?”
She draped the blanket over Amanda’s shoulders and Amanda thanked her with a nod, since her teeth were chattering too much to speak.
Hamish looked at Fiona suspiciously, knowing that her concern was false, but he ignored her. He knew they both looked dreadful, soaking wet, filthy and disreputable, but he was not overly concerned about that, since he was more worried about Amanda’s welfare.
She needed to be dried off and warmed up as soon as possible, or he feared that the consequences would be serious, so he tried to lead her off to the side to get her warmed up.
“Come,” he said. “We can dry you off in my tent.”
However, what she said next astonished him.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “My patient comes first. I will feel better knowing that he is recovering.”
“You will be no good to him if you make yourself ill too,” Hamish protested. “Look after yourself first!”
Amanda opened her mouth to argue with him, but at that moment Fiona stepped out in front of them, frowning deeply.
“What happened tae youse two?” she asked, looking them both up and down.
“I was trying to fetch the water and I slipped,” Amanda replied.
She was suddenly furious as she looked at Fiona.
However, she did not waste time berating her, but marched past her into the tent where her patient was lying.
Hamish followed on her heels. To her relief, some kind soul had left a basin of water there for her, and she soaked a cloth in it and applied it to his forehead.
There was still the wound on his arm to be seen to, however, and Amanda looked at it grimly for a while, knowing she would have to disinfect it somehow.
“I need some honey and red wine,” she told Hamish. “This wound will kill him if we leave it much longer. And can you please hold him down while I see to it? It might be quite uncomfortable for him, and I don’t want him wriggling too much.”
Hamish frowned, then nodded. He went to fetch the substances Amanda needed, then held the patient down by leaning on his shoulders as she directed while she squeezed the poisonous pus out of the wound. It was not too difficult, since Jimmy was too weak to put up much resistance.
The whole procedure made Hamish feel quite sick, but he noticed that it did not seem to bother Amanda at all; she was concentrating so hard on what she was doing that she was oblivious to everything else.
She washed the wound with wine, then smeared it with honey and finally applied a bandage which consisted of a piece of sheet from one of the beds.
Hamish was amazed yet again at her resourcefulness.
After that, she took off his shirt and breeches, leaving him in only his underclothes, and began to wash him all over. Meanwhile, some other women watched her, saying and doing nothing.
Once he was sure Amanda could handle the situation, Hamish strode over to Fiona, who folded her arms and tried to look concerned but only succeeded in appearing nervous. Hamish was not fooled. She could not rein in the hostility and jealousy that she felt for Amanda, no matter how hard she tried.
“How is the patient?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
Hamish saw red. “Do not pretend you care,” he barked. “If you had any concern at all for anyone but yourself, you would have gone to the river and fetched water instead of letting the lass do it. This is all your fault.”
He poked Fiona in the chest with his forefinger so hard that she stumbled backwards, then she looked up at him with undisguised fury in her eyes.
“Worried about your wee lassie?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She shrugged. “Why dae ye care so much? She’s just a Sassenach—nae good tae us or anybody else.”
If Hamish had been a different kind of man he might have shaken or slapped her, but had never, and would never strike a woman, so he merely glared at her furiously.
“She is the key to getting my clan back,” he growled.
“And I will not have you risk that in any way with your petty antics. We may need her services if we go into battle against Struan. We have his healer, so he has none, and that gives us a huge advantage, so perhaps you should learn to keep your mouth shut and help her instead of standing in her way. Now get out of my sight!”
Fiona had stiffened, looking up at him with an expression on her face that said, You have not heard the last of this, then she turned and stalked away.
Hamish turned to watch Amanda working, admiring the confident way she did her job with such competence and skill.
It was obvious, at least to him, that she had been born to be a healer.
He could see it in her every movement, her concentration, calmness, and most of all in the compassionate expression on her face.
Even though she was still absolutely soaked and shivering with the cold, Amanda prepared some willow bark tea without assistance.
This was no mean feat, since her hands were shaking so much she could hardly hold the jug, but somehow she managed to pour the tea into a cup and hold it up to Jimmy’s lips so that he could sip it.
Hamish was about to offer to help, but he held back.
Somehow, despite her shivering and exhaustion, Amanda Tewsbury seemed too proud to accept any help even from him.
“Come, drink this,” she murmured soothingly. “It will make you feel better, I promise. I am a healer, and I have cured many fevers this way. It works for me when I am sick, too. Drink up.”
Jimmy, who was now somewhat conscious, spat the first few mouthfuls out, since the tea was very bitter, but Amanda persevered, coaxing it into his mouth until he had swallowed all of it.
She applied a wet cloth to his forehead again, then stood up and looked down at him, sighing wearily as she wished that she had managed to rescue her store of medicines from the carriage.
She wanted some poppy milk to help him sleep and relieve his pain.
Amanda spread a blanket over the young man and tucked it in around him, then said, “I will be back to see you later.”
Amanda had been giving so much of her attention to her patient that she had forgotten how cold and wet she was. Now she looked down at herself and became aware again of the cold, which was making her shiver and her teeth rattle uncontrollably.
To add to her woes, a headache was beginning to throb behind her eyes. She knew that she should dry off and warm up, but she had no idea of where to go or what to do. She was hesitant to leave her patient, but she knew she had to at least get out of her wet clothes.
Hamish, seeing her plight, came to help her up, but Amanda shook her head and pushed him away, then rose to her feet unaided.
“You are very cold and wet,” he pointed out. “You must dry off and get warm before you become sick.”
“So are you,” Amanda pointed out. “Are you not worried about your own health?”
Hamish looked down at her, smiling warmly. “Do you always think of others before yourself?” he asked.
He had taken a woollen blanket from one of the other beds, and he draped it over her shoulders as he spoke.
Amanda looked utterly exhausted, he thought. Her face was pale, her eyes were bloodshot, and she was trembling all over. He was too, but there was a fragility about her that he knew he did not possess.
Abruptly, Hamish felt something within himself that he had not experienced for ages; he cared about her welfare.
He was absolutely astonished at himself, since tenderness was completely alien to his nature, or at least he had thought it was after his family had died, and his brother had robbed him of his birthright.
Perhaps he had just never allowed himself to feel it, building a wall around his heart so that he would not fall prey to the pervasive power of caring.
It weakened many men and led them to do the most stupid and outrageous things.
No. He would never be like that. He had made that promise to himself when Struan stole his birthright.
Amanda began to walk out of the tent beside him, but she managed only three steps before she could go no further.
She gave a long moan as her knees buckled, she closed her eyes and began to fall.
Hamish felt her weight shift against him, but he was able to catch her before she sank to the ground, and hefted her into his arms.
She looked at him for a long moment and began to whisper something, but before she got the words out she closed her eyes, her head lolled back, and she went completely limp in his arms.
“Amanda!” he cried frantically, but getting no response, he strode over to his own tent and laid her on his cot, telling himself not to panic.
He had handled worse situations than this before, so why was he so worried?