It didn’t take him long. He cursed, grabbed the cup from her hand, and downed it in one long gulp. The face he made after was almost comical, but Margaret forced herself not to smile.
Helen looked at her questioningly, and Margaret shrugged. “He just realized that you were the one in position to know what was best for him, and that if you wanted him to drink the posset it was for his own good.”
Eoin shot her a glare, as if he wasn’t happy that she knew him so well.
“I wish all my patients were so reasonable,” Helen said with a meaningful glance toward her imposing-looking husband.
The healer’s gaze when it turned back to her was appraising, and perhaps marginally less cool. Margaret couldn’t blame the other woman for her reserve, assuming she knew about her part in the battle at Loch Ryan. She should expect hostility from Bruce’s followers and Eoin’s friends (as it was obvious these two were), but it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.
Eoin must have picked up on it as well.
“Helen, Magnus,” he said by way of introduction. “This is mywife, Margaret.”
The pretty healer lifted a brow, obviously just as surprised as Margaret was at the way he’d stressedwife. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” she said in a way that was definitely open to interpretation.
Magnus gave his wife a chastising frown, and Eoin looked as if he were about to intervene, but Margaret shook him off. She needed to fight her own battles. “I’m sure you have. And I’m sure most of it’s true.”
“Only most?” Helen asked.
“It’s a matter of perspective. But I hope you will get all the facts before passing judgment.”
Helen gave a twisted smile and turned to her husband. “I think I’ve just been very politely put in my place.” When Margaret tried to object, she waved her off. “No, you were right. I will form my own opinion, and so far from what I’ve seen you can at least be reasonable, which is more than I can say for him.”
Eoin scowled, but Helen ignored him and proceeded to give Margaret instructions on how to care for him—which mostly involved forcing the drink down him for a few days so he would rest and not letting him put weight on the leg.
“As for his grumpiness,” the healer shrugged. “Well, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that. They’re all that way when they’re hurt.”
“They?” Margaret asked.
Helen looked momentarily startled by the question, but recovered quickly. “Warriors. Highlanders. The whole blasted lot of them.”
Margaret bit her lip to keep from smiling. “They do have their benefits though.”
The two women shared a look, and Margaret knew she understood when the healer’s gaze slid over her husband’s broad chest. “Aye, you’re right about that.”
Magnus frowned, obviously confused. Margaret suspected Eoin would have been as well, but he was already fading.
“The medicine might make him a little sleepy,” Helen said.
It did. And a few days later, with the siege dragging on and no end in sight, it also gave Margaret an idea.
Though Eoin was much improved and had even begun to hobble around with the help of a long stick fitted with a smaller stick crosswise to go under his arm to brace himself, she put a little extra of Helen’s medicine in his cup that night. He protested, only relenting when she assured him it was the last time.
When he was out cold, she went in search of Bruce.
22
EOIN WOKEfeeling more groggy than usual. He had to admit Helen’s medicine helped with the pain, but he hated the fuzziness that came along with it. Now that he was feeling better, he wasn’t going to let Margaret badger him into taking another drop. It didn’t only smell like dung, it tasted like it as well.
Stretching, he looked around the room and wondered where she’d gone off to. He’d grown surprisingly used to having his wife around fussing over him. He’d also grown surprisingly used to having her ignore his rule not to leave the tent.
He knew she didn’t go far, and the men knew who she was now, but he was still concerned when she didn’t reappear by the time Peter arrived with the bread, cheese, and fruit to break their fast.
“Have you seen Lady Margaret?” Eoin asked.
The boy looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Eoin felt his first prickle of alarm. “Not since last night.”
“Last night?”
