Chapter 8
Amanda went into the big tent with her heart beating nineteen to the dozen. As she was dressing she had been thinking about Hamish and was embarrassed that she had needed his help; after all, she was the healer, not Hamish.
As well as that, she had completely taken advantage of him when he had allowed her to sleep in his bed.
It had been incredibly kind of him, of course, and very uncharitable of her to think the worst of him.
She had slept in Hamish’s arms, and, remembering the feeling of his warmth around her, the scent of his body, and the feeling of safety he had engendered in her, Amanda wished she could remember more about their time together.
She blushed as she thought of the one thing she would like to have happen and then thrust the thought away. He was a Laird and she was a nobody.
Amanda entered the big tent, then realised that she had been so caught up in thinking about herself that she had forgotten about Jimmy, her patient.
However, as luck would have it, the first person she laid eyes on was Fiona, who looked at her and raised her eyebrows as she gave Amanda a thorough going-over from head to foot with a spiteful stare.
“I see my dress fits ye well, Sassenach,” she said airily. “I was goin’ tae tear it up for dishcloths, but I think it looks better on you. Just a wee bit better, mind, but dinnae let it go tae your heid.”
There was a chorus of laughter from the other women, but Amanda had learned by now that the best way to handle such behaviour was to ignore it, so she did just that, and walked past them without another glance.
She noticed a young man lying on a straw mattress in front of the fire, then realised that it was her patient, Jimmy. She walked over to him.
“Hi! How are you feeling today?” she asked pensively.
When he set eyes on her, his face lit up, and he rose to his feet then moved over to her, smiling widely.
“Thank ye so much, mistress,” he said gratefully. “I am feelin’ so much better now.”
Amanda smiled at him. “I was glad to help,” she replied. “Now, sit down and let me check that everything is as it should be. We do not want a relapse.”
The young man sat on his mattress and Amanda gave him a thorough inspection, then changed his bandage and applied some more wine and honey.
She looked into his eyes and found them bright and clear, then felt his forehead to see if his temperature was still high.
It was perfectly normal, however, and Amanda patted his shoulder.
“I am quite satisfied, Jimmy, but please come back to me every day and let me clean and check the wound. If you feel unwell at all, come to me at any time.”
Jimmy nodded and gave Amanda an impulsive hug. “Thank ye so much,” he said again. “It was a lucky day for us when ye came.”
Amanda felt a warm wave of happiness wash over her. At last, she was doing what she was meant to be doing—what made her happy. Now all she had to do was build up her store of medicines again, and she would be ready for anything!
She wondered if she could ask someone to help her find some herbs in the forest and along the side of the river. It seemed weird how the place she had been brought forcefully to provide her with so much opportunity and a sense of purpose.
Another thought suddenly occurred to her.
Where was she going to sleep tonight? Hamish had given her his own bed the previous night because she was ill, but now that she was better, would she be tied to a tree again?
The thought was terrifying, but somehow she thought it unlikely that Hamish would take that route again.
So what was going to happen to her? Amanda doubted that she would be given a tent of her own, and the thought of sharing one with one of the hostile women was a nightmare. But there was an even worse option. Would Hamish make her share with a man? Surely not!
Amanda was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice the well-built man with steady grey eyes and greying dark, wavy hair approaching her.
He was older than Hamish, but Amanda guessed that the wrinkles fanning his eyes were the results of laughter more than age.
He was tall, although not quite as tall as Hamish, and had an air of authority that marked him out as someone that the other men respected. Amanda liked him at once.
“Good mornin’ healer,” he said pleasantly. “My name is Gregor Nicholson, an’ I am Hamish’s—well, I suppose ye could say I am his right-hand man. I am glad tae meet ye.”
“Call me Amanda,” she invited, as the stranger reached out and clasped her hand in both of his.
His grip was warm and firm, and he smiled at her broadly as he said, “Thank ye for what ye did for Jimmy. He is a hard worker an’ a kind boy, an’ we would have been so sorry to lose him.”
“I was glad to be of use,” she replied, returning his smile. “Please let me know if there are any other people who need my services. I am always at hand.”
Gregor frowned and shifted his gaze away from her for a moment. When he looked up, he said awkwardly, “I am sorry about the way we took ye, hen. It was no’ very nice o’ us tae scared ye so.”
“Well, I cannot say it was pleasant,” Amanda agreed, her heart fluttering, “but it’s done now, and something good has come out of it.”
She looked across at Jimmy, who was now playing cards with another young man, looking as though he had never been ill at all.
Gregor followed her gaze, then asked, “Ye have been properly trained as a healer, then?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I spent two years studying and refining my skills. I will never be able to work miracles, of course, but I can set broken bones, clean wounds and bring down fevers most of the time, although there are some conditions that are beyond my skill.”
“Aye, well, as ye say, ye cannae work miracles,” Gregor agreed. “Naebody can, but ye are a fine healer an’ a fine woman to have used yer skills on the people who took ye… truly we thank ye.”
“Thank you so much.” Amanda was blushing.
She hesitated for a moment, then asked, “I am sorry to ask this, but…” Again she paused awkwardly.
“I only have one dress and this one that Hamish borrowed from Fiona. My other one is filthy, so I have no clean clothes at all. Is there anywhere I can get some new ones? They don’t have to be smart, or even new, just practical. ”
Gregor nodded. “I will see if I can find somebody tae take ye tae the village,” he replied. “There is a market once a week an’ ye can get some nice things there.”
He turned and looked around to where porridge was being dished out from a large cauldron by one of the women. She looked to be halfway through a pregnancy, and Amanda wondered if she would be at the camp long enough to deliver the baby.
She received her plate and helping of porridge, and debated whether to ask the woman when the baby was due, and if she could help her with the delivery, but decided against it.
The mother-to-be looked as friendly as everyone else—which was, of course, not friendly at all—and Amanda wondered if she would ever form a good relationship with these people who seemed so determined to hate her.
As she turned these thoughts around in her mind, she happened to glance at Fiona, who seemed to epitomise this spirit of loathing. Her eyes were narrowed and the corners of her mouth turned down, and as Amanda watched, her brow furrowed into a deep frown.
Amanda felt as though a weight had suddenly landed on her shoulders, and sighed deeply. She was never going to fit in, no matter how hard she tried.
Just then, Hamish arrived with the cloak she had borrowed earlier and handed it to her with a slight grin.
“You forgot this,” he said kindly.
Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda saw Fiona’s frown turn into a fierce glare, and for the first time she wondered if she had disrupted some kind of relationship between her and Hamish.
If there had been such a thing, Fiona would have disliked Amanda instinctively, and the fact that she was English was rubbing salt in the wound.
Amanda was surprised to find that she herself disliked the idea of a liaison between Hamish and Fiona, not only because she held her in complete contempt but because… Was she jealous? The idea stunned her.
Amanda took the cloak from him, then looked at him quizzically. “Thank you,” she said. “But I am not cold.”
“I’m taking you for a ride,” he said. “You said you needed new clothes, and I intend to see that you get them.”
“Oh, thank you,” Amanda replied, “but I can wash my own and give this one back to Fiona.”
Hamish shook his head, and his eyes crinkled with amusement. “That is not what you said to Gregor,” he remarked. “You said you needed more clothes, and I am offering to help you get them. Is there a problem with that?” he raised his eyebrows in a question, and Amanda suddenly felt silly.
She needed new clothes and this very attractive man was offering to procure them for her. Why on earth was she hesitating?
“I cannot pay for this.” Amanda replied, sighing.
“I will pay, I have enough coin,” Hamish told her firmly. “This is a necessity, not a luxury. We cannot have our healer walking around in rags. Now, no more arguments.”
As they spoke, they were walking towards the makeshift stables, a building that had been cobbled together with wood from the trees around them. It looked as though it would fall down at any moment, but it held the camp’s horses quite comfortably.
As they walked in, Amanda could see that two horses were already saddled and waiting for them. One was a grey mare who looked at Amanda calmly as if to say, Don’t worry, I will look after you.
The other was a lot like Hamish himself, big and broad, with a pale brown coat and white mane and tail. He looked at Amanda and snorted, causing her to step back and put some distance between them.
Hamish tried not to laugh, but did not quite succeed, and Amanda scowled at him. Meanwhile, Hamish had leapt onto the stallion and was looking down at Amanda, waiting for her to mount the mare. She patted the horse’s neck and said to her sadly, “I am really sorry, my girl, but I cannot ride.”
Hamish looked at her in astonishment. “I thought every young lady could ride,” he said, frowning.
Amanda shook her head. “Then you thought wrong. Young English ladies don’t ride, it’s not ladylike.
Besides, my father decided to spend the money we had on gambling and dice.
And then on training me to be a healer, so I could pay my way.
Though, I have to admit, it is the only thing in my life that I can thank him for. ”
Amanda watched as Hamish dismounted from the stallion in one fluid movement, then strode across to her. He clasped both hands around her waist and lifted her off the ground and onto the horse, seemingly without any effort at all. She gave a little squeal of fright as she landed in the saddle.
Amanda’s heart was pounding, and her whole body was as tense as a bowstring, but a few seconds later Hamish jumped up behind her and looped his arm around her waist, holding the reins with the other one.
His grip was firm, but not too tight, and she could feel the hardness of his solid chest behind her.
“Relax, Amanda,” Hamish said gently, and his breath fanned her ear as he spoke. “You will be fine. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”
At these words, she felt a little better, but she was still not quite sure of Hamish McNeill.
They were going into an area of which she had no knowledge at all with a man who was a virtual stranger, and she had to admit to being a little afraid.
She sighed, and realised that once more she was in the hands of fate, who was a very indifferent master.
Hamish was looking down at her, once more savouring her delicate beauty and cursing his traitorous man’s body’s reaction to her.
He had often thought that in some ways women were much stronger than men.
Their desires were shown in much more subtle ways, unlike his own, which was making him very uncomfortable.
When he saw her sad face, though, he felt a stab of pity. This woman was one of the most wholesome, worthwhile people he had ever met, and yet she had been treated abominably by her father, and now by him.
He could not blame her for thinking the worst of him, even when he had been trying to do her good. He felt ashamed, but there was no time to dwell on it.