“Unwell,” Martin repeated.
“Aye,” she said quickly. “A mild case.”
Martin nodded once, his confusion still evident on his face as he stepped aside to let her in. He did not say anything about what had happened. Instead, he walked straight to his work table, getting straight into the lesson of the day.
“I assume ye havenae had time to review our previous lesson,” he said, reaching for the book she was meant to read. “Ye left this behind.” He held the book out to her.
“Aye.” Edith straightened at once, taking the book from him. “But I reviewed me notes. Valerian is for sleep. Yarrow is for bleeding. Elderflower is for fever.” She paused. “And comfrey…”
“What does comfrey do?”
“Repairs,” she said. “Bones, tissue—anything broken.”
“Ye’re correct,” Martin said, a small smile touching his lips. “Sit.”
Today’s lesson was harder.
Martin did not ease her into things the way he had the first time. He named things quickly and expected her to keep up as he moved through different aspects of healing.
But Edith had no issues with it.
Perhaps her passion for healing and prior knowledge made it possible for her to ease into the flow of things. She found herself leaning over the table, her eyes tracking every step as he worked, her lips moving faintly as she repeated names under her breath.
“As a healer in the Highlands, ye’ll often be faced with battle wounds,” Martin said as he steeped calendula, yarrow, and rosemary in hot water. “Preventing a wound from becoming infected is vital, and it begins with a proper wash.”
Edith nodded, noting it down.
Next, he taught her how to make a simple poultice to treat cuts and other injuries. Like Aaron’s wound.
Her thoughts drifted for a brief moment, though her eyes remained on Martin’s work. Her mind was filled with the image of Aaron sitting shirtless on the same stool where she now sat, his muscles bulging despite the blood on his shoulder.
“Me Lady.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Edith.”
She looked up, biting the inside of her cheek as realization dawned on her. She had been distracted by thoughts of Aaron. Her irritation flared.
“Do ye have any questions?”
“Aye,” she answered too quickly, then she paused, thinking of what to ask when she’d barely been paying attention.
Her eyes landed on the poultice.
“Does it sting?” she asked, almost rolling her eyes once she realized that she had asked the question thinking about him.
“Hardly,” Martin replied, and the knot in her chest loosened slightly despite herself.
Thank goodness.
Edith forced a frown. It was hardly her business whether the poultice stung or not. She was only relieved for the sake of her future patients. Or at least, that was what she told herself.
Her attention returned fully to the lesson as Martin handed her something to grind. She worked in focused silence, the rhythm of the grinding grounding her.
There was something particular about it. The weight of the mortar in her hands, the slow release of scents as the materials broke down, the way her mind had to stay present or risk ruining the mixture entirely. It left no room for Aaron or any of the other things that had been crowding her thoughts since the kiss.
Her mind was simply quiet.
Martin watched her work without interrupting, which she had come to understand as approval. He only spoke when something needed correcting, and his silence now meant her hands were doing what they were supposed to.
