Page 24 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
She tucked the kitten into the pocket of her apron and brushed the annoying hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.
“And I suppose wearing a wee cat in their pockets is another charm of the ladies at court.”
“Indeed,” she said, unable to overcome her grin. Thiswasflirting, she was quite certain of it now. This foolish sparring back and forth with words and the sparkle lighting up his eyes as he met her gaze. To say nothing of the grin splitting his face.
There it was again. The fluttering in her belly.
“I am pleased tae see ye’ve returned safe from the Isle of Canna. Did yer discussions bear fruit?”
He tilted his head, frowning slightly. “What d’ye ken of the meetings and discussions we held on the island?”
She met his gaze, her expression serious. “Me laird, I am nae deaf. I heard what passed between ye, Hugo, Maxwell and Aileen while we sat together at supper. I understood that ye were endeavoring tae convince the privateers tae cease interfering wi’ MacDougall’s trade.”
“Ah. That had escaped me memory. Mayhap we should talk further.” He grew thoughtful. “Will ye join wi’ me in the solar at mid-morning?”
“Of course, me laird.” She managed a small curtsy despite the furry bundle in her apron pocket.
His grin was back. “And make sure ye bring yer the wee moggy wi’ ye.” He turned on his heel and strode across the courtyard to the keep, leaving Davina with new tingles that started in her toes and went all the way up to her nose with its daub of mud.
Broderick was chuckling as she walked into the infirmary.
“D’ye ken ye were addressing the laird wi’ a wee blotch of mud on yer nose?”
She huffed, dipped a linen rag into a pot of water on the table and swiped it across her nose. “The laird very kindly pointed it out.”
Davina and Broderick worked together during the morning attending to the problems of a number of folk. She was relieved he was there today, as she was not comfortable dealing withmen’s complaints. Especially if they concerned their private regions.
One older man complained of crippling pain whenever he relieved himself. Broderick took him behind the screen for a mysterious examination. He brewed a tisane for the man and sent him home with dried berries to be used for a tea each night for the next few days.
This aroused her curiosity and she confessed to Broderick that she had no knowledge of men’s bodies.
He produced a parchment with a clear drawing .
“These are the outside parts.”
Davina peeked through her fingers at the diagram, noting three lumpy outlines. “And what are they fer?”
“This one is the pin,” he pointed to the object hanging between the two other outlines. “It is where a man pisses.”
“Oh.” Davina let out a loud exhale. “That looks uncomfortable.”
Broderick laughed. “And when the pin swells and hardens, it lengthens, enabling a man tae place it inside a woman. That is how a baby is made.”
“Me goodness.” Davina felt her cheeks burning. “I cannae imagine such a thing.” She pulled her hand away from her eyes and studied the diagram more closely. “It is indeed a strange apparatus.” She pointed to the two round objects. “And what, pray tell, are these used fer?”
Now it was Broderick’s turn to look a little flustered. Frowning, he ran his fingers through his fair curls. “’Tis complicated, lass. They are called ballocks. Those are used fer… storage.”
She raised a brow in puzzlement. “Storage?”
Broderick was spared from any further explanation as, at that moment, a mother with a wailing lad aged around six came rushing into the infirmary. Davina remained puzzled but determined to investigate further, at the first opportunity.
Blood was running down the lad’s leg from a large cut above his knee.
Broderick sat mother and son on the two rickety wooden chairs in the infirmary while Davina hastily filled another pot of water from the cistern outside. Taking a linen cloth from the shelf she handed the pot and the cloth to Broderick, who began cleaning the wound.
The lad’s mother, who introduced herself as Bessie and her son as Thomas, explained he’d fallen and been cut on a scythe left lying hidden in the grass.
All the while, the lad was all but raising the roof with his bellowing.
