1
“All ye need is to keep the dressing clean, and ye should be fine,” Talia Collins instructed, smiling down at the blacksmith on her settee. “‘Tis time ye started leaving the hard work to Derrick, Mr. Douglas. Ye arenae as young as ye once were.”
Mr. Douglas wrinkled his nose and rose quicker than a man of his seventy years should have. He was tall and stocky, with a build that told of many years of hard toil. He was a regular patient of hers, since he ended up with burns more often than she liked.
Most of her patients were much like him. They had worked many years to perfect their craft and were too scared to leave it to others to run. Talia felt that she would be much the same when the years caught up with her. It would be difficult to stop practicing as a healer, but that didn’t stop her from giving good advice.
“The lad’s nae any good,” he retorted. “Perhaps if he had a wife as lovely as yerself, he might be more responsible.”
Talia huffed a laugh and shooed the man away. The villagers were always trying to pair her with their sons, and while she found it flattering, it got tiring rather quickly.
That had been her last argument with the man she had considered her father before his passing.
Grief filled her again at the reminder.
“It would take more than a wife to help yer Derrick, Mr. Douglas,” she laughed without any humor. “How is yer back today? Ye’re nae complaining about the pain.”
“Me back is much improved since I used the ointment ye gave me,” he said with a bright smile. “And me Derrick is a fine lad for ye. Ye’re about the same age, and he is as handsome as I was at his age. Mr. Boyd would have approved this match.”
“Perhaps, but he isnae here to agree, so I shall make me own decisions,” she murmured, her throat closing up at the mention of her adoptive father. “And marriage isnae one of them.”
“Aye, I understand,” Mr. Douglas said, arching an eyebrow. “Ye have someone else on yer mind.”
“I daenae,” she protested. “What made ye think that?”
“Ye have turned down half the lads in our village,” he answered. “Mrs. Douglas was heartbroken when ye refused to marry her boy. Though I agree with ye. Her Rowan is a skirt chaser. Ye deserve to be with a good lad like me Derrick.”
Talia snorted.
If only he kent what his Derrick has been up to.
She didn’t exactly look for gossip, but many a young lass had come to her to seek advice on how to snag his attention, and when they ultimately had their hearts broken, they sought remedies to stop the pain.
“I believe ye, Mr. Douglas,” she told him. “But I daenae wish to marry. I wish to continue working as a healer. If I marry and move into a large castle far away, who would care for yer burns and aches?”
“Aye, ye make a good point,” he relented. “But promise me ye will consider me Derrick.”
“I make nay promises I cannae keep, and ye ken it, Mr. Douglas.”
He laughed and took her hands in his own, patting them. “‘Tis nae good for ye to be alone,” he said in a softer tone. “I ken ye miss yer faither, but a husband and children might make this large house a little less lonely.”
She smiled at him, squeezing his hands. “I will never be lonely,” she assured him. “Nae when I have ye and all the villagers coming in and out of the house every day.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I shall nae take up any more of yer time. I will send the Missus later with some pie for ye. I ken ye love her pies.”
“Indeed, I do.” She grinned.
She walked him to the door and helped him put on his coat. But as she opened the door, she noticed an unfamiliar man walking up the cobblestoned path leading to the house.
Is he a new patient?
“Have a good day, Miss Collins,” Mr. Douglas said, nodding at her.
“Ye as well, Mr. Douglas.”
She watched him speak with the stranger, before stepping back into her room to clean up her work table. No doubt he would interrogate the man and threaten him before letting him get close to the house.
The villagers had become even more protective of her since her adoptive father died, and she found it endearing. It would be hard on her if she ever had to leave them behind.
