“Is today too soon?”
Her gaze widened. “No, but—”
“Grand.” He stepped aside and gestured to the open doorway behind him. “Because yer first patients await.”
Peering beyond, she caught sight of a wan-faced lass. Behind her stood a husky man with a bandaged hand.
Craeg winked at her. “If ye want to get started, I’ll have those other items fetched for ye.”
A warm sense of satisfaction settled over Hazel as she wrapped a clean bandage around the cook’s hand. Straightening up, she met the man’s eye. “That’s a nasty burn. Ye will need to visit me tomorrow. I’ll dress it again.”
She’d applied heather honey to the blistered burn upon Baird’s hand before covering it with a comfrey and ribwort poultice. The honey would prevent the wound from souring, while the herbs would soothe and heal it.
The cook nodded. “I shall, Mistress Hazel. Thank ye.”
The big man heaved himself off the stool and moved to the door.
Wiping her hands with a clean cloth, Hazel watched him go. Her first two patients, and she’d helped them both. Flora suffered from heavy monthly bleeding. It drained the poor lass. She’d given her something to help with the pain, but she needed to go foraging for Lady’s Mantle and Shepherd’s Purse to make a tea for her.
“A successful morning?” She glanced over her shoulder to find Craeg in the doorway, arms braced on the frame above his head. The position made the loose lèine he wore strain across his broad shoulders and muscular upper arms. Her heart gave a traitorous wee kick at the sight.
Curse the man. She wished he were less attractive.
“Aye,” she replied, a little breathlessly. She flashed him an arch look then, to cover up her sudden self-consciousness. “Don’t tell me ye have another two waiting behind ye?”
He laughed, the warm sound filling the makeshift infirmary. “I’ve more than that … but they can wait until later.” He paused then. “I appreciate ye staying on, Hazel.”
She ducked her chin, focusing on putting away the herbs she’d used to make a poultice for the burn. “I’m happy to help.” Warmth suffused her chest then. She’d enjoyed her morning and was keen to get back to this infirmary later and help others.
“Ye will be eager to return to yer cottage, I wager.” Did she imagine it, or did his voice flatten slightly?
“Aye … but I shall remain at Moy while people need me.” Stoppering the clay bottles of herbs, she moved to the shelves and placed them with the others.
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “Enough with the stiffness, Hazel. We’re past that, don’t ye think?”
She cut him a sidelong look. “How am I supposed to talk to ye then?”
His dark brows drew together. “Like we are friends. Equals.”
Ye wouldn’t say such things if ye knew the truth about me.
The thought made her belly tighten. She hated how the things Siùsan had told her had worked their way under her skin like thorns—how shame stole over her at times. The truth was that she and Maclean could never be equals. “I’ll do my best,” she replied.
Their gazes held for a few moments, and then Craeg pushed himself off the door frame. “Come on. It’s time for the noon meal.”
14: I DON’T BELONG HERE
“YE DON’T NEED to escort me … I’m sure Captain Black or one of his men would have.”
“Aye, I’m sure they would.” A stubborn edge she’d come to know well edged Craeg’s voice. “ButI’dprefer to do it.”
Huffing an irritated sigh, Hazel tugged Duncan down the slope. After three days of tending the folk of Moy Castle, she needed to stock up on yet more fresh herbs. Thick hedgerows grew alongside the road that ran east of the castle. She’d planned to pop out unnoticed, but the chieftain had seen her make for the gates with her donkey.
And now Craeg walked alongside her.
They’d caused a stir as they crossed the barmkin together.
Two lasses emerging from the bakehouse across the way then, arms laden with loaves of fresh bread, had spied them. Their eyes were as big as moons as they bowed their heads together and started whispering.
