She ignored them. Instead, she focused her attention on her patient. A thin sheen of perspiration now covered Drew’s body and Rose allowed herself a tiny flush of satisfaction. Good. That was good. Sweating indicated that the heat trapped inside Drew’s body was now escaping, his temperature was coming down, and the infection beginning to lose its hold.
“Is he cured?” Maggie asked.
“No,” Rose replied. “Not quite yet.” She took a deep breath and straightened on the stool, pushing away from Cailean’s support. “Stage one complete. Now time for stage two.”
Cailean stepped back a pace but did not retreat. He was watching her intently, concern etched on his handsome features. “Stage two?”
She nodded. “The hard part. I might lose consciousness. If I do, can you make sure I don’t bang my head?”
Cailean’s expression tightened. “I willnae let any harm come to ye, lass. I swear it.”
Rose met his dark gaze. She suspected he did not make such promises lightly, this laird of Barra.
Taking a breath, she laid a hand on Drew’s forehead again. This time, as she sent her awareness spiraling down into his body, she wasn’t looking for anything wrong. This time, she was searching for somethingright. His own immune system. Like a cable jump-starting a car engine, she sent a burst of energy through his system, jolting it into action. Now it would take over the fight, locating the infection within his body and fighting it off. After this was complete, she poured energy into him, shoring up his body’s natural defenses and giving it the strength it needed to heal.
Slowly, Drew began to respond. His lungs begin to expand and contract more fully. His blood began to flow more freely. His heart, so weak to begin with, found a steadier rhythm.
Finally, Rose slowly withdrew her power and blinked her eyes open. She was surprised to find herself slumped against a hard, warm body. The body smelled of leather and sky and wind and there were arms around her too, strong as tree roots.
Cailean. She was slumped against Cailean, her forehead resting on his shoulder. Had she passed out? Sometimes she became so engrossed in a healing that she lost track of herself. Usually Elise or Jenna were there to pull her back. This time, it seemed, it had been Cailean MacNeil.
She breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of him, and then slowly lifted her head. His face was only inches from hers, dark eyes intense as he studied her.
“How… how…” She moved her jaw a few times, working up enough saliva to speak. “How long was I out?”
“Only a few minutes, lass,” Cailean replied, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Might I suggest a sturdier perch next time? One where ye aren’t so likely to fall and crack yer bonce?”
“Noted,” she said with a weak smile.
With some effort, she got her hands against Cailean’s hard chest and used it to lever herself up to a sitting position. The room swayed and for a second she thought she might pass out again. But it slowly passed and she was able to concentrate on her patient.
Drew MacRae was awake. He still looked weak and a little befuddled, but there was already more color in his cheeks and the look of death had retreated from his features.
Maggie and Beatrice were busy fussing around him like mother hens, mopping his brow and getting him to drink some water.
“I canna believe it,” Maggie said, her awestruck gaze flicking to Rose. “Ye did it. Ye really did it.”
Rose shook her head. “That remains to be seen. I’ve kick-started his own healing processes, that’s all. We’ll need to keep a close eye on him the next few days to make sure there’s no relapse.”
Sister Beatrice nodded. She looked as wide-eyed as her sister. “We will, have no fear of that. Thank the Lord for sending ye to us, my dear.”
“What…?” Drew slurred, his voice as dry and whispery as burned parchment. “What happened?” His eyes rolled in his head, taking in the people clustered around him.
Cailean moved to stand over the bed. “Ye have been ill, my old friend,” he said gently. “But ye are on the mend now. All will be well.”
“Ill?” Drew replied, his voice a little stronger. “I canna be ill! Who will arrange the castle rota? And make sure the guards get paid?”
A faint smile curled Cailean’s lips. “Dinna fash, man. Yer duties are being attended to. Did ye really think we would do aught else after the service ye’ve done this clan?”
Drew ran his tongue around his cracked lips. “When can I go home?”
“When we say ye can,” Beatrice said sternly. “And not a moment before.”
Drew turned a pleading look on Cailean. “Dinna leave me with these two, my lord. They are terrifying.”
Cailean snorted. “Ye must be feeling better if ye are making jokes.”
“Who said I was joking?”
