Page 48 of Highlander’s Evil Side

Chapter Twenty

Beitris

Beitris crouched low to the ground. Her basket waited at the base of a tree. The cottage was only a few feet away. A soft glow seeped through the windows, displaying the fire within. From this distance, she could hear Hamish humming while he worked. After spending much of the day consoling the woman and cleaning the sweat from the boy’s body, she needed to do something. She could no longer sit idly by, listening to the boy’s painful moans and his gasps. Hamish, thankfully, sent her in search of any lemon balm surrounding the cottage. The sun was beginning to set, casting a faint shadow over the wood, making it difficult to search for the green leafy plant.

“What is it ye search for, my lady?” Ian asked while towering over her. “Perhaps I can help?”

Beitris made a face. “I fear it’s a wee difficult to distinguish. It’s a green plant, sometimes with yellow-tinged leaves.”

Beitris’s hands waded through the grass, pushing it away while searching the soil for the herbs to aid the boy’s fever. She moved slowly, careful not to step onto anything that could be used. If they were at the castle, she could find peppermint in Cook’s garden, which would help with the boy’s aching stomach and fever.

“Could this possibly be it?” asked Ian while picking some greenery from the soil.

Beitris turned towards him, a smile on her lips as she noticed him looking curiously at the plant in his hands. “Nae, that is moss.”

“Moss?” Ian asked, his eyes brightening. “Can it help with fever?”

Beitris shook her head. “Unfortunately, nae.”

Ian frowned, and she nearly chuckled at the pout on his face. She turned back to the soil, trying not to think about how late it was getting. It would be nightfall by the time she returned home, and she could only imagine Fraser’s worry. However, the guards were informed, she reminded herself. Ian also accompanied them, so it wasn’t like she acted foolishly. At least not so far.

Beitris looked around at the woods, still concerned this was a trap. The lad did indeed lie in bed, groaning and sweating with fever; however, she still suspected something or someone was watching her.

Could it be the fae watching her?she wondered.

From her research, she knew the fae watched humans yet rarely interacted with them. The possibility of Fraser’s double being a changeling was unlikely, Beitris thought. Of what she knew, the fae hardly cared for mortal politics, nor would they lower themselves to discuss wedding plans with the lady of a castle. They would most likely be concerned with the children, not the laird of a clan. And she doubted any would be so keen to side themselves with brigands. There were indeed stories of the fae falling in love with mortal maids and men, but they were simply taken without a trace. They wouldn’t dally.

Nae, this was a mortal man trying to ruin Fraser’s good name, Beitris decided. But why? Fraser was a good man. She doubted he would have a speckled past. He wasn’t a brigand, a liar, nor a cheat. Was this an act of vengeance?

She gasped, all thoughts of Fraser and his fraud leaving her as she reached for the lemon balm before her. “I found it,” she breathed, taking it gently and plucking it from the ground. She quickly rose, beaming at Ian while displaying it to him. “I found it,” she said, louder this time and promptly turning around.

Beitris rushed back inside the cottage, pushing the door open and tiptoeing inside. Hamish stood by the cauldron, stirring the water while adding different powders from his jars inside. The mother stroked her son’s brow with a damp cloth.

“I found the lemon balm, Hamish,” Beitris said while striding towards him.

“I will wait outside and guard the door,” came Ian’s voice from behind.

“Ye found it?” the mother asked, her voice shrill as she rushed towards Beitris.

“Lady Beitris, could ye please grind it for me?” Hamish asked without looking at her. “The items should be on the table.”

Beitris turned around and set herself to work. The light within the cottage was growing dim. She heard the water gurgling and bubbling behind her as she grabbed the mortar and pestle. Breaking the lemon balm into tiny pieces, she dropped them inside and began grinding, working quickly until the leaves had become similar to a paste consistency.

She offered the bowl to Hamish, watching him snatch it quickly and dump the contents into the boiling cauldron. He stirred while Beitris returned to the boy, his mother resuming her pacing while she bit at her nails.

“Mama?” the boy gasped as Beitris climbed into the cot next to him.

Beitris cradled the boy on the bed, taking the damp cloth and stroking his soaked hair. “Yer mama is near,” she whispered while she continued cleaning him.

She wrinkled her nose at the rancid smell nauseating her nose from the bucket below the bed, filled with whatever foul demon the boy had purged from within. He was young, no older than seven summers. His eyes clamped closed while his pallid face jerked back and forth. The fire heated the room, making sweat drip from Beitris’s brow. The air tasted of smoke.

“Will he live?” the woman asked. She had asked the question several times throughout the day. It was the only thing she said during the long hours she spent as Hamish worked brewing a tea and tending to the boy’s fever.

Hamish once more said nothing, which irritated and worried Beitris. She knew Hamish did not want to give the woman false hope, yet even she could not deny she needed to know if the boy would die by the next day. Her hands trembled as she stroked the boy’s head, wondering if she was truly helping or simply taking up space. What would Hamish’s apprentice do? Would he also spend his time holding a child on the verge of death? Or would he be outside, foraging for more herbs and chopping wood for the fire?

Beitris glanced at the door, worried at any moment the other Fraser would burst in and seize her. Her gaze turned to the small window, and her frown deepened at the shadows playing against the wood. Night had already fallen, and they still were no closer to returning to the castle.

Hamish dumped the contents from his pot into a cup and turned towards the door. “He must drink this,” he murmured.