Page 166 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"Keep that there," said Marisse, dabbing it with a small cloth. "It will help with the swelling..."

Reluctantly, Ainslee complied. But she had better things to be doing. As she kept the swab against her cheek, she glanced down at Ainslee's bag. It was bursting full of potions and herbs.

"Who yer off to see?" she asked, looking at her bag. "Anyone I ken?"

Marisse looked uncertainly. "Och," she said. "Ye ken everyone, but ye ken hoo it is. Folk dinnae want the whole toon to ken aboot their gammy leg, or warty back!"

"Ah, then I do ken who it is," said Ainslee. She was refining the contours of the blade, and it was no easy process. Really she should wake her father, but all encompassing snores told he was out for the count.

"Ach, ye always ken, this toon isnae big!" said Marisse, still keeping her counsel. Her eyes glanced at Ainslee. "Like Laird , nae doubt the reason for his collieshangie is his piles have been playing him up again...I told him nae to push them back, that he would suffer the worse fer it!"

Despite her bad humor, Ainslee laughed uproariously. Even the mention of the Laird Bruce was enough to induce a ten minute sweary fit. Which really would not do on a Sunday.

"Mair like, they suffer from him!" retorted Ainslee, but she could not help laughing anyway.

Marisse pouted, then, her whim changed. "Och, forget him. Next time I'll rub nettles up his wee backside...Anyhoo, can ye nae get off noo, we have mair important things to blather aboot...!"

Chiseling the edging of the scabbard, Ainslee raised an eyebrow. "We dae?"

"Aye, we dae," said Marisse, importantly. "Like yer love life..."

She watched Ainslee as she busied herself in her work, refusing to make eye contact. However, she did flash a quick keek to her father, still asleep in his chair. The last thing she wanted was him hearing any of this!

"Well, that shouldnae take long, I dinnae have one," replied Ainslee, smoothly. It was true enough, but even as she said it, she felt her heart panging.

There was another reason for his antipathy to Laird Bruce. His brother.

The one that she should have married. A sharp jolt pulled her up tight, but Ainslee pushed on through it. She had got used to doing this over the years. Still, it did not prevent inconvenient emotions from bubbling up inside her.

"Well," said Marisse, confidentally. "We have to dae something aboot that, dinnae we?"

Ainslee looked at her. "I cannae," she said, shutting her down. This was a subject she did not want to continue with. Putting the sword down pointedly, she met Marisse's gaze.

"Why?" said Marisse, equally pointedly. She had got right into Ainslee's face. She hated it when she did this. Already she could see that she was going to lose this fight. When Marisse got an idea she seldom let it go.

"Because I am nae sure I can trust myself nae to use this sword on him...!"

Ainslee picked the sword up again, running a gloved finger over its edging. It was getting there. Then, for half a second, permitted herself a moment's interest. "If there e'en was anyone I would consider in the first place, that is..."

Marisse shook her head. "Ye should," she said plainly. "If ye ever want a normal life, ye need to find a love, an' marry..."

Ainslee took a breath. For a moment, there was no sound, save the clanging of irons, and her father's low, rhythmic snoring. Polishing the sword, she shot a look at Ainslee.

"Who says I dinnae have a normal life," she answered briskly. Marisse did not lose a beat.

"I do," she said, her light blue beam fixed on her. "I do. Ainslee, lass, yer twenty-eight years auld, an' still working in yer father's shop. Ye should be wed, an' wi' a couple o' weans on the way. I am only telling ye what ye plainly ken is true..."

"I see."

Marisse did not mince her words, but even for her, this was direct. Without looking, Ainslee continued her working.

"An' is this the way ye talk to yer patients, when they are ill, sick an' dying?" she said, acerbically.

"Sometimes," asserted Marisse. "If they're nae in reality...I tell them, aye..."

"Remind me nae to have ye 'round on ma death bed!" Ainslee flashed, but her heart was scalded.

She knew what Marisse was driving at. Heaven knows, her father had said it often enough. And it was all true. There was only one problem.