“How long did I sleep? What did he do to me?” Her glance toward Jamie was accusing.
“How do ye feel, Robena?” Agatha asked.
Robena went silent for a moment, then took a breath and let it out slowly.
Aftyn’s smile lit up the room. “See? Ye could no’ do that for a fortnight before now.”
Robena nodded, color blooming in her cheeks.
“How did ye do that?” Agatha frowned again at Jamie.
“Robena doesna remember me,” Jamie said, pitching his voice low and soft to calm everyone, “and that is not unusual. Does her progress displease ye?” He counted on Agatha’s temperament to help him avoid answering the question—in her eyes, he was the only legitimate healer in the croft.
“Of course no’. ’Tis a welcome surprise.”
“Yer healer laid the groundwork, but it took time for Robena to feel better. I simply carried on with what she started. And ye see the result. Ye are lucky to have her to care for yer village.”
Agatha’s suspicious gaze turned to Aftyn. “Indeed? She truly helped Robena? Then why did she no’ help my bairn?”
Jamie suddenly knew the scope of his error. Agatha already believed Aftyn had deliberately let her heir die. By insisting Aftyn was as good a healer as Agatha believed him to be, he’d just confirmed Agatha’s suspicions.
* * *
Something liftedthe hairs on the back of Aftyn’s neck. She glanced around. Jamie wore a stunned look, his eyes wide, as though he’d just realized something vitally important. She replayed in her mind what she’d overheard him say while her attention was focused on Robena.
Then her gaze shot to Agatha, who twisted her mouth into a satisfied smirk.Ach, nay.She fought the urge to rise and run for the door. It would do no good.
Agatha would not forget what he’d said. She’d make Aftyn’s life hell for as long as it lasted. Which might not be much longer, if Agatha had her way.
“What’s amiss?”
Robena’s question pulled Aftyn’s attention back to her. Robena had sensed the sudden rise in tension in the room and lifted up on to one elbow, but missed the reason for it. Aftyn cleared a suddenly dry throat and summoned the strength to answer Robena calmly. “Nought, lass. We’re simply stunned at how well ye are, and happy, too. Aren’t we, Agatha?” She turned her head so Robena couldn’t see her expression and frowned at the woman, daring her to contradict what she’d said, and make Robena feel worse.
Agatha’s gaze cut to Robena. Her smile looked forced to Aftyn, but Robena accepted it as genuine and lay back on her pillow even before Agatha spoke.
“Indeed we are happy to see ye so much improved, my friend.”
“I’ll leave ye to make Robena more comfortable, and return to the keep,” Jamie interjected into the silence that followed. “If I encounter Colin, I’ll send him home.”
“Thank ye,” Robena murmured.
But her expression belied her confusion. Aftyn knew she had no idea what the healer had done to or for her, and suspected she wasn’t certain how much gratitude she should convey.
As Jamie moved to the door, Aftyn debated following him. Agatha could help her friend bathe and change into clean clothes without Aftyn’s assistance. A change of bedding would do the lass good, too. She feared what Agatha would say to her with Jamie out of the room, even more what Agatha would say to Robena once she left them alone. Perhaps she should stay to defend herself.
Jamie made the decision for her. “Aftyn, if ye could join me outside. I’d like to speak with ye.”
“Of course.” She took Robena’s hand. “Agatha will see to ye until Colin returns home. I’ll check on ye later.”
“That will no’ be necessary,” Agatha told her with a sniff.
Aftyn frowned but didn’t argue. A verbal battle with Agatha would not help Robena, nor would it change Agatha’s mind. Instead, Aftyn followed Jamie out the door and closed it behind her.
He stood a few paces away, staring out over the glen, his back to her. She paused to study the way the sunlight glinted in his hair and made it bright with copper, then found herself transfixed by the breadth of his upper arms. He’d crossed them over his chest, which only widened his upper back as well. He spent years training and perhaps fighting to gain that physique. His thighs, the overall length of his legs, braced apart in a solid stance, spoke of readiness, even willingness, to fight. If she ran headlong into his back, she doubted she could make him sway, much less fall.
Instead, she moved next to him, facing out as he did, then glanced sideways at him. His profile was a strong as the rest of him, his nose straight, high cheekbones betraying some Viking ancestry, and firm lips, not too full, not too thin. The shadow of a reddish beard colored his cheeks and neck. “What do ye wish to discuss?”
He cleared his throat and turned to face her. “I owe ye an apology.”
