Emma flinched, glancing at her. “What? But…”
“I cannae go on, lass. I’m sorry. We’ll visit them first thing tomorrow.”
“I can go to see them. I’ll take ye back to the Keep, then…”
“Nay,” Delphine said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I willnae leave ye wander the lands yerself. It’s dangerous.”
“Delphine, I’ll be twenty-five at the end of the year.”
“Aye, and that’s the most dangerous age for a young lassie. She fancies herself ever so wise and thinks that because she’s nay longer a girl, she’s out of danger. Well, she isnae.Yearenae. Ye are a pretty lass, Emma, and the best apprentice that wretched laird offered me. I’ll nae stand to lose ye.”
Emma decided not to argue further. She didn’t bother to point out that before she’d been apprenticed to Delphine, she’d worked in a particularly seedy and infamous pub in a lower part of town, where the women were commodities as much as the ale and pies. Only her reputation as a bright young healer kept her safe.
She didn’t think she was particularly pretty, either. She saw plenty of elfin, delicate Scottish ladies about the Keep wearing fur, velvet, and jewels, their hands smooth and white, perfect from never having done any work.
She snuck a glance down at her own hands.
Healer’s hands, people called them. She had strong hands, nimble for picking out delicate plants, and calloused from raking through dirt, rocks, thorns, and nettles to get to the things she wanted.
And like every other healer she’d ever known, her fingers were stained green from the second knuckle downwards, a stain that had never quite washed away.
Actually, that wasn’t true. Delphine’s old, arthritic fingers were starting to lose their greenish tinge, and the old healer was not pleased about that. Not one bit.
Aside from that, Emma wasn’t particularly impressed with her own looks. She was short, with an admittedly good figure, but one that would be clumsy beside those graceful ladies. She had brown hair, the exact color of mud, and blue eyes.
Hardly unusual.
“Come on, lass!” Delphine called over her shoulder, and Emma was a little shocked to find that her mentor had gone a few steps ahead.
She cast one last look around the craggy, stony hillside. She could just see the eaves of Edmund’s house poking out and sent up a quick prayer to whatever deity might be listening, asking for him to be safe.
Then, she hurried to catch up with Delphine.
Emma never failed to be impressed by Keep MacPherson. She’d seen the towering battlements from a distance when she had been young and once or twice had even come close to enough to place a hand on the weathered, mossy stone walls, which were older than anyone else she knew. It was ancient, strong, and awe-inspiring. It would outlive everyone who sheltered inside it, and it had withstood the strongest of sieges in the past.
Keep MacPherson was a famous place. It seemed almost ridiculous that she was living here now.
“Ye got here just in time,” the sentry standing guard on the door said off-handedly. “We were about to close the gates.”
Emma swallowed hard, trying not to imagine being locked outside the Keep at night. She was so used to the security of its walls and armed men that she’d almost lost the knack of keeping herself safe. Not ideal.
“So early?” she asked, pausing. “It doesnae usually close for hours yet.”
The sentry shrugged. “Laird MacPherson’s orders. They say that there’s bad weather coming in, anyway.”
Emma opened her mouth to say something else, but Delphine jerked her away with surprising strength.
“Ow! Delphine!”
“Ye had that look on yer face,” Delphine commented. “The look that says ye are about to shut off yer mind and just say whatever ye like.”
“I wasnae going to do any such thing.”
“Come off it, lass. Ye have been my apprentice for a good, long while, and I know ye well enough by now. I’ve told ye time and again, ye cannae speak badly of the Laird to his people.”
Emma reddened. “How do ye know I was going to say that?”
Delphine shot her a look. “All right. What were ye going to say, then?”
