“Cough,” Jeane ordered, and Lottie did so, dissolving into a coughing fit that made Fergus frown and straighten up.
“Why’d ye make her cough?”
“Be quiet, Fergus,” Lottie scolded. “She’s tryin’ to make me better.”
“So that I can tell if there’s fluid in her lungs or nae. I’m afraid there is,” Jeane said quietly, not sugarcoating things. Fergus respected that.
“Is that bad?” Lottie asked, fear across her features.
Before Jeane could answer, Fergus spoke.
“She will make ye better.”
“I will do all I can to help her,” Jeane said, smiling at Lottie.
They stepped outside, shutting the door behind them, and Jeane glared at Fergus.
“Ye cannae make me make promises to the lass I cannae keep,” she warned.
“Ye’ll heal her, or I will have ye head,” he said sharply, even though he did not mean it. He would not kill a woman, but Jeane did not have to know that.
He needed Lottie better, and Jeane was going to make it happen.
“I cannae control yer sister’s body or how she heals,” Jeane shot back. “I’m a healer, nae a god.”
“I daenae care what ye say. Ye will heal me sister.”
He liked this feisty side of the lass. He liked the lass in general, if he was honest with himself. He had not had much interest in women since his accident. Not particularly. Only to warm his bed, not to let into his heart.
But Jeane seemed different. Mysterious. Alive.
It made something long dead in his chest start breathing again, and Fergus did not know what to do with it.
Aiden returned, skulking outside the door, and Fergus came out into the hall, reluctantly withdrawing from the argument with Jeane. He shut the door to let Jeane finish her examination.
“What did the healer say?” Aiden asked anxiously.
Fergus clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“She will be all right, Aiden. Daenae fret so. We’ve got a healer now. Morna’s death took us all by surprise,” Fergus said, speaking of their previous healer. She had been an old woman but had shown no signs of decline until Mary found her, lying dead in her bed. “How far away is yer brother?”
“Nae far. I have him near the castle, just in case we ever did get a healer,” Aiden admitted.
Fergus nodded. “Then I will take her to him. Have ye called a meeting with the council?”
“Aye, we meet at midnight,” Aiden told him.
Fergus had been worried he’d be bored to death by the last meeting, but there was plenty to talk about in this one.
The Leary clan was still out there. Still wanted Fergus’ head.
“Midnight it is, then.” Fergus paused. “What do ye think of the healer?”
“She’s pretty,” Aiden answered, and Fergus felt his shoulders stiffen. His fists clenched, his eyes darkening as he looked at the other man.
“Aye,” he said quietly, almost a whisper, and Aiden’s eyes widened.
“I didnae mean it like that, Me Laird. Ye ken I?—”
