Page 19 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
“Och. Aye. I wasnae in the garden always. I served me time at the bedside of the sick and aided the wounded.”
At hearing this, he nodded. “I am pleased tae have ye by me side. Between us we will make far more of the infirmary than would be possible fer one of us on their own.”
When she went to her bed at the end of the day, she was well pleased. Not only with what she had been able to achieve, but with the promise of learning more from Broderick and being able to teach him as well.
It was strange that she was beginning to think of her little cottage and Kiessimul Castle, as her home. She felt more content here after only a matter of days than she’d ever felt in all her years at Iona.
However, if she was to contemplate a life there, she knew she would have to overcome the dread she had of water and, of course, the sea.
Next morning Davina looked out the window of her cottage, wishing for sunshine. The day was similar to the previous day, with grey clouds and the kind of misty rain that hardly seemed wet, yet left her damp and chilled.
Still, she had no intention of complaining, having slept all night in a warm and comfortable bed without a bell ringing loudly to awaken her for prayers. There were moments when she wondered if she was wicked for preferring her earthy, worldly, life to the hushed world of the convent with its contemplative prayer.
Then she remembered Dame Maria’s cruelty and any pang of guilt which might have tried to creep in was swept out the window.
She donned her clothes, a fresh blue kirtle that Mistress Jonnet had only completed the day before, her apron embroidered with flowers and herbs that she’d been working on quietly by candlelight every night, a clean tunic and her warm woolen cloak, and headed for the kitchen to break her fast.
Broderick had already sailed his little boat across the bay to collect more supplies from the list she’d provided, but Mildred was there, sipping a cup of warm mead.
After greeting Mildred and a sour-faced Ailis, she helped herself to a bowl of porridge from the giant pot on the stove and laced it with cream and honey
As she picked up her spoon, Mildred leaned over and whispered conspiratorially. “’Tis very well ye look in yer pretty new gown.”
Davina felt her cheeks burn. She was unused to compliments and Mildred’s words warmed her heart.
“And, just as well, child. Fer our laird is returning tae Kiessimul today, so I’m told by our good Gockman, Ranald Dunbar. Seems he had the news from one of our fishermen recently returned from Canna.”
Davina’s breath hitched and her heart started hammering so hard she thought it might jump right out of her chest. She drew in a breath, exhaled slowly and spooned in a mouthful of porridge.
“Och. That is good news, Mistress Mildred.”
Mildred was looking at her curiously, making Davina wonder if the strange thrill she was experiencing showed on her face. If it was, it might look like a candle had started glowing in each of her eyes.
She lowered her gaze to the porridge and gulped in another spoonful.
Whatever has come over me that me heart should start such wild-pounding at the mention of his name?
All of a sudden, she became aware of her new blue kirtle, hoping the color suited her well, determining that she would braid her hair and wind the braids around her head like fashionable ladies did.
She could hardly wait to finish breaking fast and return to the infirmary, where she could get on with her tasks and distract her willful mind from thoughts – and more thoughts – of Laird Everard.
What a foolish young creature I am,she scolded.As if such a man would ever have eyes tae notice the likes of me.
Once there had been a nobleman’s daughter sent to the convent because she had eyes for an unsuitable lad from her village. She had pined for him, and when out of earshot of Dame Maria and the other, older nuns, she’d described the lad’s great beautyto the breathless novices hanging on her every word. She told them of the thrills she experienced every time she glimpsed him walking in the keep. The lass had not remained cloistered for long. She was sent for by her father, who had arranged a satisfactory marriage for her.
Davina still recalled the sound of the lass’s sobbing, night after night. Although she’d sympathized with her distress, she had had no comprehension of the feelings she described.
Today, she began to understand.
By mid-morning the rain had cleared and although occasional beams of sunlight danced between the grey clouds, Davina did not venture into the garden but remained in the infirmary.
One-by-one the folk seeking her help shuffled into the infirmary. The morning passed quickly.
There was an oarsman whose hands had endured too much and were now ragged and bleeding. After bathing the hands with warm water, she applied one of Broderick’s salves of marshmallow and calendula and bandaged it. “Dinnae set yer hand tae the oars again until I tell ye,” she ordered.
Next was a spotty lad, his face swollen with a boil. She mixed a drawing poultice of clay, charcoal and castor oil. “Ye’ll need tae apply this often until the boil has drawn. Come back then and let us make sure it is cleaned properly.”
A lass heavy with child appeared, fearful and anxious about the approaching birth of her wean. Davina was quite lost when it came to childbearing. Even though there had been rare occasions when pregnant lasses had approached the convent, it was not about the process of giving birth, but treatment for some other problem.
