Chapter 6
The Forbidden Lowlander
Alistair's fever rose in the night.
Diana and Iain divided the hours between cold cloths, bitter infusions, and the stubbornness of a patient who woke only to deny that he was ill.
When morning came through the gaps in the shed, Dugald returned for the decision Alistair had failed to give the night before.
Dugald pointed at the door.
"The two of them must be kept away from the rest of the clan before they bring Penelope's men down on all of us."
Alistair tried to rise. The pain below his ribs stopped him before the movement was finished.
Diana did not move.
Neither did Iain.
That was what gave Alistair's irritation a direction.
"They stay."
The voice came out lower than he wanted, and the whole shed heard it. Dugald turned to the table. His face did not change. Only the line of his mouth closed.
"Laird, they know the way."
"And they saved my life."
"That does not erase the risk."
"Nor does the risk erase what they did."
Dugald glanced at Diana.
"She used an English name."
"To survive," Alistair said.
Diana looked up at him. Her attention was silent and hard to read. He had spoken before she needed to defend herself, and he did not like what came with knowing it.
Dugald set his hands on his belt.
"Malcolm has bought men in Inverness. Penelope Hawthorne keeps servants, coachmen, and merchants who obey for money. If these women are followed, we lose the shelter."
"If they were loyal to Penelope, I'd be dead," Alistair said.
"Perhaps the purpose was to bring you to us."
The answer left the shed quieter than before.
Graeme appeared at the door in time to hear it. Eliza came behind him with a jug of water.
"An admirable plan," she said. "It required a ball, surgery, a pursuit, and a cart that lost two boards along the way. Penelope generally prefers less tiring methods."
Dugald ignored the remark.
"We cannot trust them."
Alistair looked at Diana. She had gone back to the bandage, adjusting the binding without entering the argument. Her hands worked with the same precision they had used at the mill. She was not asking him to believe her, and she offered nothing in the way of promises.
Fraser.
The name went on pulling at something old that still had no shape.
"Diana stays as long as there are wounded who need her," he said. "Eliza too."
"For how long?"
"Until I decide otherwise."
Dugald opened his mouth.
"This discussion is over."
This time the voice came out whole.
The old fighter held Alistair's gaze for several seconds. Then he made a short bow, too stiff to mean agreement.
"As you order, Laird."
He left the shed.
Eliza set the jug down by the bench.
"Is he always this welcoming?"
"Today he's making an effort," Graeme said.
Diana finished the knot in the binding.
"You should not have got up."
"I didn't get up."
"You tried. Your body showed better judgment."
Iain handed Alistair a bowl of dark infusion.
"Drink."
The bitter smell arrived before the rim touched his lips.
"What's in it?"
"Willow bark and two leaves you wouldn't know even if I named them."
Eliza leaned in to watch.
"I like the trust between you two."
Alistair drank. It tasted of wet wood and something worse. Diana followed every swallow, making certain he left nothing in the bowl.
"Satisfied?" he asked.
"Not yet."
"Is this going to become a habit?"
"If it continues to be necessary."
Alistair handed the bowl back to Iain.
A high cry cut across the shed.
Everyone turned toward the entrance.
A woman came in carrying a small girl wrapped in a blanket. The child's face was flushed and her eyes half closed. Every breath came with a low sound in her chest.
"Iain."
The mother did not have to say more.
Iain was already clearing jars and cloths off one of the benches. Diana made room beside him.
"How long?" he asked.
"Since last night. The fever rose this morning. Now she can't breathe properly."
The woman laid her daughter on the blanket. Iain put two fingers to the girl's neck and brought his ear down to her chest.
Diana stayed beside him without touching the child until he raised his head.
"Màiri has had this before," Iain said. "Last winter. The infusion helped, but the chest wasn't as closed."
"How old is she?" Diana asked.
"Five."
The girl coughed. The small body bent, and the air stopped before it came back with effort.
Diana knelt.
"Màiri, can you look at me?"
The child's eyes opened just enough to find her.
"I want you to sit up a little. Your mother will hold you."
The woman obeyed. Diana folded a blanket and set it behind the girl's back to raise her upper body.
"Like this?"
"Higher. There. Do not lay her flat."
Iain was already setting aside dry leaves and a pale root.
"This root opens the chest," he said. "I use a small amount. More than that makes the heart run fast."
Diana touched the girl's forehead, then watched her nostrils and the movement between her ribs.
"The breathing is pulling in under the chest. She needs warm damp air, without smoke."
Iain looked at the hearth.
"I can heat water in the next room. The herb gives up its steam better."
"Do that. I also need cold cloths for the fever, and water in small sips."
The mother tightened her hold on her daughter's hand.
"Will she live?"
Iain answered first.
"We're here."
He promised nothing he could not control. Alistair had known that way of speaking since he was a boy.
Diana understood it as well.
"If she worsens, we will see it early," she said. "Watch her lips. If they turn blue, or if she stops answering, call me at once."
Iain carried the pot into the smaller room. Eliza followed with the jug while Graeme opened a high window to clear the smoke from the hearth.
Alistair lay where he was, useless, watching.
Diana counted the child's breathing by the movement of her chest. She said no more than she needed to. When Màiri tried to lie back, Diana rested the small head against her shoulder and kept the body raised.
The girl took hold of a piece of her sleeve.
Diana looked at the fingers closed on the cloth.
For a moment her face lost its studied steadiness. What came in its place was simpler and harder to ignore.
Iain came back with the pot steaming. The smell of the plant filled the shed, sharp and clean.
"Not too close," Diana said.
Iain set the pot on the floor at a safe distance and tented a blanket over it to carry the steam without smothering the child.
"This much is enough," he said. "Stronger irritates."
Diana nodded.
There was no contest between them. Iain knew the plant, the dose, and the girl's history. Diana watched the work of the breathing and adjusted her position, the pace of the water, and the signs of worsening.
Alistair watched the two of them work without either trying to take the other's place.
Màiri's fever did not come down at once. Her breathing began to lose the roughest of the noise. After a few minutes the girl took two spoonfuls of water.
Iain touched her wrist.
"Steadier."
Diana listened to the chest again.
"It is still hard, but the air is going in better."
The mother closed her eyes and put her forehead against her daughter's hair.
A man in the doorway murmured.
"The Lowlander knows what she's doing."
Alistair watched Diana hear it. She did not look toward the voice.
Another answered.
"Fraser."
The correction came low, and it carried across the shed.
Diana went on holding Màiri.
The true name did not sound strange among the MacLeods. That gave Alistair an uncomfortable satisfaction, a sense of fit he had no right to.
Graeme came over to the table.
"Dugald's going to gather the men."
"Let him."
"Some of them agree with him."
"Them as well."
Graeme looked at Diana and Iain.
"If Penelope finds the trail—"
"She will not find this shelter because of them."
"Are you sure?"
Alistair turned his face to his cousin.
"No."
Graeme waited.
"But I'm not turning out the people keeping ours alive to ease the fear of the ones already here."
His cousin nodded, recognizing a decision already made.
Màiri coughed again, this time hard enough to bring up phlegm. Diana turned the girl forward and let her mother hold her.
Iain examined what had come up.
"Good."
Eliza made a face.
"That word means different things among healers."
Diana handed a cloth to the mother.
"It means the chest is managing to expel what it was holding."
"That was more useful," Eliza said.
Iain almost smiled.
The tension in the shed eased enough for the weight of his own tiredness to reach Alistair. The infusion was beginning to dull the pain, and the fever put the roof at a distance.
Diana came back to the table.
"You need to rest."
"The child?"
"Iain will stay with her. I will look at your wound again when the fever comes down."
"Mine or hers?"
"Whichever is more inclined to obey."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Her voice went on being familiar. The cadence, and the short pause before an answer she already considered obvious, pulled at a memory that still refused to come.
"Fraser," he said.
Diana stopped.
"Yes?"
Alistair opened his eyes.
"Have you been in this country before?"
The question struck something she hid quickly. Her fingers tightened on the cloth she was holding.
"I passed through many parts of Scotland as a child."
"With your father?"
"Sometimes."
"And near rivers?"
Eliza turned her head. Diana did not.
"There are many rivers in Scotland, Laird."
"That answer was no answer."
"You are learning."
Before he could press further, quick steps crossed the shelter. A young man came into the shed out of breath, mud to his knees.
"Graeme."
The second in command turned.
"Speak."
"Malcolm's men have found the MacNair holding. There are two families there, three wounded, and children. They've closed off the south road."
Alistair pushed the blanket aside.
The pain answered before Diana did.
She put a hand on his shoulder.
"No."
"My people are surrounded."
"And you can barely sit up."
Graeme was already moving to the door.
"I'll gather the men."
"Wait," Diana said.
He stopped.
The messenger was still getting his breath back.
Diana turned to him.
"Describe the road. Every bend, wall, and watercourse you saw on the way."