His thoughts strayed back to watching Aftyn and Neve put the herbal to rights this morning. He had become determined to help them.
The more he learned about Aftyn’s situation, how bravely she tried to fill her dead mother’s role, and how she had spent day and night at Niall’s side, the more sympathy he felt for her. He forgot the fury that had tainted his opinion of her when he first saw Niall. Instead, he now focused on her heart, her beauty, and uncovering the secret that kept her frustrated and afraid.
He knew something about keeping secrets.
While he pored over her mother’s cryptic journal after the market, she and Neve had cleared the herbal of all the old preparations and dried plants, and scrubbed every surface clean enough to eat on. Tired but determined, they hung every bunch of herbs and flowers he’d gifted to them, then stood, hands on hips, admiring their handiwork and the change in the sight and the scents of the herbal.
So taken by their efforts, he’d promised to spend the next day with them, making up the dozen or so preparations that any healer used for common abrasions, burns, and the like. Aftyn had been so thrilled with his vow, he thought for a moment she would throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. Or at least hug him, in thanks. He would have welcomed any sign of affection from such a beautiful lass, but he was coming to think of Aftyn differently—as someone who deserved his admiration, not just his lust. He didn’t understand how that had happened. She was certainly desirable. But the more he got to know her, the more he admired her.
Instead of showing her appreciation to him in a way he imagined, she declared she wasn’t done yet. She began with the handful of concoctions she did know how to prepare, chopping, bruising, heating, boiling, mixing, with a smile on her face.
Inspired, he’d stayed through the midday mealtime and chose several of her mother’s preparations to transcribe into something legible that Aftyn could keep and use. That earned him another warm smile before she turned back to the task she’d set for herself.
That smile tempted him to take her in his arms and kiss her. If Neve had not been there, he might have. How would she have met his advance? With welcome? Or would she have turned away? He’d been attracted to her the first moment he saw her crossing the great hall. Since then, he’d learned that she was the kind of person who fought on after tragedy, and he found himself even more drawn to her.
A serving girl interrupted his recollections as she passed by with a pitcher of ale, then paused where he sat and gave him a grin. She moved on when he waved her away. He didn’t need that kind of trouble.
A few minutes later, he noticed the post house’s mistress berating the lass for taking too much time with certain patrons. Her gaze shifted to Jamie as she said it. Jamie met her gaze, but kept his expression neutral. Arguing with the mistress would not help him—or the lass.
He finished his ale and waited long enough the serving girl gave him another reason to wave her away, then stood. He could do with a walk around the village on his way back to the keep. Except for the market this morning, he’d seen little since he arrived, having spent most of his time in the Niall’s chamber or recovering in Rabbie’s.
He was met at the door by a breathless young lad, possibly eight years old.
“Are ye the new healer?”
He lifted his satchel. “I am.”
“Ye must come with me. I think my mam fell. I found her on the floor. I canna wake her.”
Jamie frowned. This could be serious. He should send for Aftyn, but if he needed to use more than herbal cures, her presence would inhibit what he could do. He’d evaluate first, then send the lad for her if he could. “Take me to yer mother, lad.”
The lad raced off, then paused to let Jamie catch up with him. They proceeded in this leap-frog fashion to one of the village cottages. The lad shoved open the door and pointed inside. Late afternoon sunlight fell in a broad beam to the body of a young woman sprawled face-down in the middle of the room.
Jamie knelt by her and studied her form. Thin, too thin. Likely too poorly nourished to support herself and keep up a home, a young son and, he supposed, a husband. She’d fainted. He ran a hand over her head, then down her back. He dared do no more with the lad watching. “Fetch healer Aftyn for me, lad, and close the door. Yer mother wouldna want everyone in the village peering in at her.
The lad did as he was told and Jamie went to work. No matter how deeply he extended his senses, he could find nothing wrong to explain her faint. He leaned back. He’d feared she’d hit her head, but found no sign of injury. He could do nothing for her that a steady diet of good meals would not improve. “Where’s yer husband, lass?” He debated leaving her as she fell, but decided he could at least make her more comfortable where she lay. He rolled her to her back and straightened her skirt. He found a blanket on a small cot near the opposite end of the room and used it to pillow her head. Only then did he notice the bruising on her face and around one eye. He grimaced over using his talent and breaking his vow yet again, but he had no other means to be sure she wasn’t injured. He found bruising on her torso he’d missed by scanning so deeply for the cause of her swoon. Someone was hitting her, and often.
He thought back to when the lad appeared. Had he been bruised, too? Not his face, surely, or Jamie would have seen it in the sunlight, as would anyone in the village.
Was she in pain? Jamie had no way to know whether he should treat her injuries, or if the sudden lack of them would provoke her husband into hitting her again. Then he recalled something his mother taught him about leaving the leaked blood under the surface of the skin, but healing deeper damage. She’d done that while trying to save her half-brother. Jamie did the same for the lass. His face hurt and his eye ached, but they were minor complaints compared to what this lass had been through. He finished just as the door opened and Aftyn rushed in.
“Ach, Mhairi. Again?” She knelt on the woman’s other side, opposite Jamie, and studied the woman’s face, then met Jamie’s gaze. “Where’s Rory? What have ye done for her?”
“The lad I sent to find ye?”
“Nay, her husband.”
“I dinna ken. And there’s little either of us can do. She needs good food more than potions. That and getting away from the person who did that to her.” He nodded at the discoloration on her face.
Aftyn sighed. “Rory has a temper.”
“Ye kenned he hit her?” He let the outrage for what this woman had suffered resonate in his voice.
Aftyn waved a hand. “The whole village kens. Not that anyone can do anything to help her.”
“Would she be better off without him?” Jamie could make him disappear. The thought tempted the warrior in him.
Aftyn grimaced. “She thinks she’d starve, and her son with her, or she’d have left him by now.”
