Her voice resonated with his bone and sinews, making him vibrate with want.
“Are ye his Lathan kin? Where’s the healer? And where’s Neve?”
Jamie fought down his body’s fascination with the lass, recalled his purpose here, and found his voice. “Where’s the healer, indeed? She left a festering wound to spread poison throughout this man’s body.”
The lass reared back as if he’d slapped her, her face reddening under narrowed eyes. Deep blue eyes, the color of a cold loch in sunlight.
“Neve and I cared for him, and we’ve done all we ken to do.”
He yanked his gaze from her and focused on how Niall had suffered since the local healer had gotten her hands on him. “Nought, ye mean.”
“So ye say.” Fear when she looked at him and sorrow when her gaze strayed to Niall warred for dominance on her face.
Did she fear him? Of course she did. He was big and angry and strange to her. Ashamed, he fought to control the outrage that filled him at seeing Niall’s condition. He didn’t make a practice of terrorizing lasses. “Lass, I…”
“Ye didna spend days by his side,” she continued, speaking over his attempt to retract his harsh words. “Seeking to comfort him, to cool him, and to treat his wound. Nothing I did worked. And yer men prevented the one thing that might save him. I fear…”
“Nothingyedid!” Jamie interrupted her, his intent to apologize forgotten, dismay curdling the food in his belly. “Yeare the so-called healer in this clan?” He could not be attracted to the person who had done this to Niall.
Her posture collapsed like a doll suddenly missing some of its stuffing. “I am. Neve helps me, but Niall’s care is my responsibility.”
Jamie rarely found himself speechless, but the conflicting emotions Aftyn communicated in her expression and her bearing made him hold his tongue.
As if the mention of her name conjured her from the dark hallway, Neve entered. “Aftyn! I was looking for ye. I see ye have met the Lathans.”
“No’ precisely,” she answered Neve, then turned back to Jamie.
“They are Jamie and Bhaltair,” Neve told her. “The healer couldna travel. She sent Jamie in her stead.”
Aftyn rounded on Neve. “I see ye’ve been away from the charge I left ye long enough to meet them and listen to their tales. How could ye?”
Neve quailed under the healer’s verbal assault. “I’m sorry, Aftyn…”
“Rabbie brought us up,” Jamie interjected, fighting to keep his temper under control. She might be a poor excuse for a healer, but she was a lass, and he knew better than to frighten her. He was here to care for Niall, not to cause problems with this clan or upset the lasses any more than he already had. “Neve was here, and took care of us.”
“Rabbie’s here, too?” Aftyn glanced from Jamie back to Neve. “Where?”
“Resting in his chamber,” Neve supplied, “and so is Fearchar.”
“Well, then,” Aftyn said and rounded on Jamie this time. “It sounds as though there are enough of ye to take over yer friend’s care. Especially since ye find all I and Neve have done to be… how did ye put it? Ah, worse than nay care at all. Oh, aye, and a danger to all. Did I hear ye correctly?”
Jamie could feel his face heating and knew it must be reddening. He hadn’t meant to be overheard. Despite his dismay at Niall’s condition, he regretted his outburst. “Ye did. And we will take charge of his care.”
“Very well, then,” Aftyn said, her mouth in a grim line. “I havena had a good sleep since Niall and yer other clansmen rode into our keep. I’ll leave him to ye.” With that, she spun on her heel and exited the chamber.
Neve shrugged and followed her out, closing the door quietly behind them.
Bhaltair frowned at Jamie. “That was no’ well done.”
“Nay. I ken it.” Jamie shook his head, not yet free of the dismay that colored the whole encounter with the Keith healer. “But perhaps that so-called healer needed to hear the truth.” And he needed to keep her at arm’s length. This was not the place to be lusting after a pretty lass.
“Perhaps more gently,” Bhaltair argued.
Bhaltair was right, as much as Jamie hated to admit it. He’d been needlessly cruel, but he could not take the time to soothe the lovely healer’s hurt feelings. A patient needed his full attention. “’Tis done, and I must begin to do what I can for Niall.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I need ye to guard the door. None may enter until I open it. When I do, I’ll send ye for food and drink.”
Bhaltair frowned and left without a word, closing the door firmly behind him, as close to censure as he ever came.
Jamie put him out of his mind and turned to Niall, seeking the calm that would let him heal. He unwound the bandages, dismayed yet again by what he revealed. The healer had not opened the wound track to clean it. Angry streaks of red were being overtaken by the black of dead and dying tissue at the entry and exit sides. The sweet stink of rot, stronger this close to the wound, turned his stomach. Jamie opened the shutter over the window, hoping to clear the air. The room would chill quickly and help ease Niall’s fever.
