Chapter Seventeen #2
He shook his head a little and frowned. Saints! Could he not even remember when he'd last eaten? "Would one of you go see if there is any fresh broth in the kitchen?" she asked the two women. "And if there is, bring some. Some ale, too."
"Aye, m'lady. My name's Margie. We tried to get him to eat, but he'd have none of it." She hurried out the door.
Well, at least they'd tried. He would have to eat for her; she'd make him.
"Is she the healer for Munrick?" Jessie whispered.
"Aye. Their main healer passed a few months ago. Margie admits she isn't well trained."
"Saints! Torrin, why on earth did you not hire a competent healer?"
"Didn't ken I'd need one," he whispered.
She shook her head.
"I need to examine his wounds and see if they are festered," Flora said.
"Aye." Jessie said. "I'll help you." Knowing one of the injuries was on his left thigh, Jessie moved the blankets aside while trying to keep his groin covered, although she was certain Flora had seen countless naked men while performing her healing duties.
Flora removed the bloody linen bandage from his thigh, revealing a swollen, angry gash. It had been roughly stitched up. Jessie wanted to mutter several curse words, but kept her lips sealed tight.
"'Tis a festering wound. I must bathe it, then apply a poultice." Flora turned to the MacLeod maid who waited near the door. "I'll need a kettle of boiled water if you please."
"Aye." The maid hastened away.
"It looks bad, does it not?" Jessie asked.
Flora nodded.
"You can help him though, aye?"
"I will certainly try, m'lady. But you must pray. Your prayers seem to work miracles." Flora dug into her satchel and pulled out several wee cloth pouches of dried herbs.
Jessie nodded, her throat closing. Her prayers had been answered thus far. Torrin was alive, as she'd asked. Now, she must ask for his rapid healing.
Holding his hand, she kissed his overheated forehead, then silently said a swift but heartfelt prayer.
"Don't cry, Jessie," Torrin whispered. "Don't like it when you cry."
She wiped her tears away. "Then you must recover quickly."
"Don't leave me," he said.
"I won't."
"Ever," he added, his pain-filled gaze locked on her.
Realizing what he was saying, she bit her lip. He was asking her to stay with him permanently. Was that what it would take to give him the strength to fight for his life? She would do anything to keep him alive.
"I will stay with you… always," she said.
"In truth?" He frowned, his eyes searching hers.
"Aye. I love you," she whispered, stroking his cheek, sporting a weeks' worth of beard stubble.
"Love you, too." He turned his head slightly and kissed her palm.
Margie and the maid rushed into the room, one carrying a kettle of hot water and the other a tray of food.
Flora set about making an herbal tea. While it steeped, Jessie fed Torrin a couple of spoonfuls of warm venison broth. It smelled fresh and delicious. It had been many hours since she'd eaten and she was hungry. But Torrin's well-being was far more important than her own.
"'Tis all I can stomach," he said after another sip.
Flora and Jessie helped him turn onto his side so they might check the wound on his back. It was healing well because it hadn't been as deep a cut.
Once Jessie forced him to drink the tea containing the poppy, willow bark, thyme, red clover blossom and several other things, Flora bathed the wound on his thigh with hot water containing herbs over the basin.
She then gently applied a poultice of plantain, red clover, comfrey and calendula to the wound and covered it with clean linen.
A few minutes later, Torrin dropped off to sleep and his fever seemed diminished.
"Go get yourself something to eat, m'lady," Flora whispered.
Before Jessie could say anything, Dolina entered the room, carrying a tray filled with food. "Margie sent this up for you both."
"Oh, I thank you," Jessie said.
While Jessie was eating, Dirk, Keegan and Iain entered the room. "How is he?" Dirk asked, keeping his voice low.
"Flora has attended to the wound on his thigh and given him a tea to help him sleep and recover. The cut on his back is already healing well."
Dirk nodded, still looking worried as his gaze scanned over Torrin.
"I'm so thankful you've all come," Iain said in a hushed tone. "I'm not a healer. I knew not what to do. I knew Flora and Lady Jessie could help him more than anyone."
"We'll do our best," Flora said. "But he'll need a lot of prayers."
∞∞∞
Jessie woke up, a bit disoriented for a moment, then realized she was sitting in the padded chair by Torrin's bed.
Bright morning light filtered through the two narrow windows.
Her gaze darting to Torrin, she found him watching her.
It had been two days since she'd arrived, and Torrin had been either sleeping or feverishly delirious most of the time.
"I like to watch you sleep," he murmured.
Thank the saints he was lucid and alert. "Are you feeling better?" she asked.
"Aye."
"Good." She stood, then sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to bump his leg, and pressed her palm to his forehead. Still a bit too warm, but his gaze was clear green, not glassy as it had been the day before. "Thank God you're improving." She smiled, a mist of happy tears burning her eyes.
"And thank you, too." He stared at her intently, but then his stomach growled.
She grinned. "Sounds like you're hungry."
"Mayhap."
At a rustling sound behind her, she turned to find Flora rising from her pallet near the fireplace. Jessie moved across the room, awoke Dolina and sent her after Torrin's breakfast, while Flora changed the poultice on his leg.
A half hour later, Jessie fed Torrin porridge. She enjoyed the task of giving him sustenance. He had argued and insisted he was capable of feeding himself, but she refused to let him. She simply wanted to help him in any way she could.
A knock sounded at the door. Dolina answered it, and a pretty, young, dark-haired woman entered the room, dressed as a lady rather than a servant.
"Good morn. I'm Rhona, Nolan's wife," she told Jessie, a solemn expression on her face. "How are you feeling this morn, m'laird?" she asked Torrin, moving closer.
"Better. This is Lady Jessie MacKay," Torrin said.
After pleasantries were exchanged, Torrin frowned and asked, "Has anyone told you about Nolan?"
"Aye, Sir Iain did. 'Twas one reason I wished to speak to you."
"I wanted to tell you myself, but I was blacked out and had a fever for… I don't ken how long it has been."
"Just over a week," Jessie said.
"Saints! That long?" he asked.