“As will I,” Aftyn added, coming up on Jamie’s other side.
“I’ll go fetch ye something to eat,” Neve volunteered. “Would ye like that?’
“Aye,” Alastair replied, vigorously nodding his head. “We’ve never enough to eat.”
Jamie bit back a curse. “We’ll see to that, too, lad,” he promised. Alastair was a growing lad and needed good food in plenty, as did his mother.
“I’ll see what Cook has ready and bring up a tray,” Neve said, directing her gaze and the comment to Aftyn.
“Thank ye,” Aftyn told her. “That will make our wee friend feel welcome, aye, Alastair?” She placed a hand on his thin shoulder.
Alastair looked up at her with adoration. “Aye.” After a pause, he added, “Thank ye.”
Neve gifted him with a smile and left the herbal.
“Ye have fine manners, young Alastair,” Jamie told him, thinking after all the time the lad had been without a name, the more he heard it here, the more confident he might become.
“Thank ye, healer.”
“Come,” Aftyn said, pointing to a high stool. “Let’s sit ye there and have a look at ye. Can ye do that? ’Tis a very high seat.”
“I can do it,” Alastair insisted, and proved it by climbing up and settling himself like a king.
“Good lad,” Jamie told him and under cover of studying his eyes, put his hand on the boy’s neck, out of Aftyn’s sight. He sensed only minor bruising on his torso such as any young lad might acquire on his own, already healing. No broken bones, current or past. The lad had apparently been adept at avoiding his tormentor.
Aftyn joined Jamie and held out her hand. “Let me see yer arms, please, Alastair.”
The lad held out both hands, arms extended. She pushed up his sleeves and pursed her lips, then pulled them down again. “Old bruises. Did Rory do that to ye?”
Alastair shrugged and looked aside.
“Ye needna fash,” she told him. “Do they hurt?”
“Nay. They’re nearly gone.”
Jamie caught Aftyn’s gaze and nodded. “That’s good, Alastair. How’s yer tummy?”
“Empty!”
Aftyn laughed and after a moment, both Alastair and Jamie joined her. Jamie’s gaze went to Aftyn as she laughed. Musical and sweet, he would never tire of hearing that sound, or seeing her mirth reflected in her gaze, replacing the sadness that so often filled her.
“We’ll soon fix that,” Jamie said. “Neve will return with plenty to eat. In the meantime, can I see yer feet?”
“They’re right there, at the end of my legs,” Alastair told him with a cheeky grin.
Ach, good. The lad was responding to them both and showing more personality than Jamie had yet seen. Jamie reached down, grabbed both feet, and pulled off his soft boots. “I see. Shall I set them aside for ye or do ye like them where they are?”
“Where they are!” Alastair looked worried, but his reaction gave Jamie the few seconds he needed to pay attention to the lad’s legs and feet. To Jamie's relief, he was unharmed.
Aftyn laughed again, reassuring Alastair, and Jamie released his feet. “I’m with ye, lad. I like them where they are, too.”
“Why do ye have flowers in here?” Alastair asked, then turned his gaze to Jamie. “Are ye courting Aftyn?”
Aftyn choked, but covered her expression behind her hand.
Jamie just shrugged, though his pulse kicked up at the thought. If he was, it was a most unusual courtship, since most of what he’d done for her involved her mother’s journal. He’d yet to kiss her. And though he’d held her in his dreams, in reality he’d barely held her hand.
“They’ll become potions to make ye feel better if ye fall ill,” Aftyn answered when Jamie failed to speak.
