She was in a room lit only by candles set into the far wall. The place had a smell of lavender to it and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Was that mint?
Her head hurt as did her legs. Something had happened to her. Had she been hit by a car?
She remembered the sound of a horn and brakes but then what? Nothing came to mind.
“Am I dead?” she asked, her voice surprisingly weak.
She thought hard. There was just a big gap in her memory before the candles and the smell and then a man was leaning over her, his face filled with concern.
She looked up. “Doctor?”
“I am no physician,” the man replied. “Though I can tell you are alive, not dead.”
She squinted, trying to make out the face that peered down at her. She knew that face and that Scottish accent. “Jock MacGregor?” she said, trying to sit up and wincing as pain lanced through her. “What are you doing here?”
“I brought you to the infirmary. How badly are you hurt?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell. Can you turn the lights on?”
“They are lit. Are your eyes not working? Stay still. I will fetch the physician at once.”
She lay back as he disappeared into the shadows. What kind of hospital was lit by candlelight? She lifted her neck to look around her. All she could make out were little islands of light around each candle.
There were other beds just visible in the gloom but she could not tell if they were occupied.
Looking down she saw that the blankets covering her were made of rough wool. The floor was hidden beneath a layer of straw. The ceiling was lost in the darkness above her.
How had she ended up here? And just where was here anyway?
Chapter Six
Jock found Alan in his preparation room at the end of the infirmary. He was seated at his long table, hunched over a pestle and mortar, grinding strong smelling herbs into mush.
On the perch beside him, his parrot eyed Jock with his head cocked to one side. “Morning,” the parrot said. “Morning laird.”
Alan glanced over his shoulder. “How is she?”
“She is awake,” Jock said. “You must tend to her.”
“And I shall,” Alan replied. “To treat her, I must ken what ails her. Where did you find her?”
Jock thought for a moment. It would sound ridiculous to tell the truth. “Passed out near my bedchamber.”
That part was technically true. He had found her on the floor outside his bedchamber. The part that he didn’t mention was what happened before then.
He had been asleep less than an hour when something woke him. He sat up at once, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. There was no sound other than the crumbling embers of the fire, the remains of a log falling in on itself as he climbed out of bed. Was that it? No, he would not have woken up to the noise of the fire. It was something else.
A sound was coming from the mantelpiece above the fire. It sounded like a woman humming, the sound distant and then loud, then faint once more, like it was traveling in waves.
Where was it coming from?
He assumed it was coming in from the window but looking out threw no light on the matter. He could see only the dark courtyard, no one was out there. The humming was louder again, this time definitely coming from inside his room.
He turned back and walked over to the mantelpiece. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn the sound was coming from the wooden box Daisy had delivered to him.
He opened the box and there was the key, nestled once again on the velvet cushion, not where he’d left it before settling for the night.
His hand was in the box before he knew what he was doing. He touched the key and the instant he did he heard the strangest screeching sound.
