Page 20 of Fire in his Highland Heart

“Is there a market near? I havenae much in the way o’ money,” Arguen said sheepishly. That part was true. Douglas hadn’t wanted to make her an easy target.

“Nay, but ye’ve an herbalist and healer here. I can give ye sustenance. Here. Ye ought tae eat,” Connie said, and passed Arguen a bowl of porridge.

Arguen took her place across the small wooden table from the young woman with the infant and ate in silence as the two women clucked away.

“Where’s that husband o’ yers?” Connie asked, stirring something from the pot on the hearth.

“Tending the cow. Fell sick last night,” the young woman answered, focusing on the task at hand, which was feeding her child.

“I pray it’s nothin’ grave?”

The young woman shrugged. “We’ve milk from the other one. And a good crop this year, I’m no worried. Worryin’ does no good.”

Arguen enjoyed the camaraderie between these two strange women. This was what she’d missed about healing--the casual, friendly conversation while she boiled and mixed poultices. It gave her a sense of meaning.

“What business have ye at Ernmore?” the young woman asked brightly.

Her voice shook Arguen out of her reverie. “Oh, um...stayin’ wi’ family friends for the summer.”

“We’re halfway through summer, aren’t we?” the young woman asked.

Now Arguen wondered if Connie and this woman could be trusted. These questions seemed innocent enough, but there was no way of telling their true nature.

“Aye, but…” Arguen fumbled for an answer, but thankfully one popped into her mind. “I’m a healer meself. I had tae wait until no one was ill so I could go,” she said, hoping she sounded confident and self-assured.

“We healers never rest,” Connie chimed in.

“I hear Ernmore is a jolly place this summer. Laird Blake hosts feasts and dances. I had a cousin, went tae one last year. Now she’s married with one on the way,” the young woman said.

“I suspect that poor Laird Blake needs all that merriment,” Connie said from the hearth.

Now Arguen’s curiosity was piqued. This was a wonderful way to gain information about her new, temporary home.

“What’s wrong wi’ Laird Blake?”

“Och, ye dinnae ken, child?” Connie asked, genuinely shocked.

“His wife died about four years ago. His young son and heir shortly after. ‘Tis just him an’ his daughter now. He hasnae remarried,” the young woman said, covering herself and re-swaddling her babe.

“An’ ‘tis not for lack of lasses. Why, I’ve heard he’s handsome, too. But no, no wife. Heartbroken,” Connie added.

“An’ his daughter is everythin’. I had another cousin who worked in the kitchens there--says he raises the child himself like a nurse and mother. He’s sweet to her, but och, he’s cold and stern with all else,” the young woman said with shining eyes. Juicy gossip was obviously very thrilling to her.

How lovely, Arguen thought. A man who does not tolerate outsiders or, seemingly, most women. She wondered for what sort of welcome that would make. But then again...frequent parties and feasts...perhaps that was a positive sign.

She peered at the sun through the window again. It was only rising higher, and she knew she needed to get moving.

“I ought tae leave ye be,” Arguen said, rising.

“So soon?” Connie asked, a twinkle in her eye as she turned around from her place at the hearth.

The longer Arguen stayed, the more uneasy she grew. “Aye. I’d like tae travel quick,” she said, giving the old woman a sympathetic look.

“Och, of course. But before ye go--” Connie rummaged around the little worktable adjacent to the hearth, “ye ought tae take some food. And here--” she passed Arguen a small, indistinct knife-- “for protection. ‘Tis sharp, so watch yerself.”

Arguen gratefully accepted the knife and the food, and bid farewell to both the women in the cottage. Before she could leave, Connie’s voice stopped her once more.

“Remember, child, ye cannae outrun fate.”