Page 43 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
Mildred patted her hand.
“I ken ye’re unversed in the ways of seduction and lovemaking.”
Davina gulped in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to compose her flustered thoughts. “I ken a little of such things. I gleaned some from the gossip of one or two lasses who stayed in the Priory at Iona during me time there.”
Mildred sighed, scratching her head. “I dinnae mean the fantasies of young girls, lass. I mean the reality of being swooped into a man’s arms and kissed soundly. So soundly that ye forget where ye are and what yer name is.”
Unable to speak, Davina shook her head. She understood only too well what Mildred was referring to. She had dreams at night, hot and glorious, where she was in the laird’s arms, with his lips on hers. From such dreams, she awoke in disarray, all of her humming with a strange desire.
“I can dae nay more than warn ye. The laird will wed a lass from a family equal tae his. Mayhap the daughter or niece of a laird.A lass he might nae love, but one whose alliance wi’ her clan will bring advantage tae the MacNeils.”
Tears stung Davina’s eyes. One or two rolled down her cheek, which she quickly dabbed away.
He will never look at the likes of me. A poor lass who daesnae ken even her faither’s name.
“I understand.” She offered a brief curtsy to Mildred. “I thank ye fer yer concern. I ken the laird would ne’er wed wi’ the likes of me.”
Mildred reached for her hand and gave it a kindly squeeze. “I’m sorry, Davina. I only wish tae protect ye. Many a lass has been misled by her own passions and the charms of a handsome lad, finishing in ruin and heartbreak.”
Davina walked back to the infirmary with a heavy heart. There was no doubt, Mildred meant well, but her warning had come too late. What she felt for Everard MacNeil would not disappear simply because it was unsuitable and dangerous.
As she walked through the infirmary door, Broderick was donning his cloak, Feather weaving herself around his legs. Beside him was a basket containing a selection of tinctures and salves as well as rolled-up strips of linen for bandages.
“Ah, I am glad ye came before I left.”
Davina raised a puzzled eyebrow. He’d said nothing about going out when they were breaking their fast.
“A message has just come from the village. Seems a child has been a tad reckless in climbing a tree. He’s fallen and is wailing fit tae wake the dead. Mayhap he’s broken a bone or two and bumped his wee head. The fisherman who brought the message is waiting now tae take me over the bay tae tend tae the lad.”
She quickly checked the contents of his basket and took one more salve from the shelf. “Arnica. It will help heal the bruises which the boy is sure tae have.”
“Thank ye, Davina. I am confident tae leave ye here as I ken ye are a born healer.”
After he’d gone Davina rolled up her sleeves and swept the stone floor as she did each morning. Then, taking her mortar and pestle she got on with grinding seeds and dried herbs with oil to make a salve as Broderick had shown her. Concentrating on the task helped to keep her thoughts from straying to Laird Everard, as they seemed to constantly do. When it was done, she ladled the paste into two waiting jars and placed them on the shelf.
Rather pleased with her efforts, she washed her hands in water from the cistern outside the door. She was drying them on a rough flax cloth when a young man she recognized as one of Ranald Dunbar’s crewmen came puffing down the path.
He skidded to a halt beside her. “Is the healer here?”
She shook her head. “He’s gone tae the village.”
The man huffed, a concerned expression on his face. “That’s nae good. There’s a problem down at the sparring yard, behind the crew’s house.”
On hearing this, Davina’s throat constricted.Everard’s been injured.It took effort to keep her voice steady. “I am a healer also. I can help, if ye tell me what the problem.”
“’Tis a big man whose leg is injured.” The fellow looked her up and down. “Ulric the Viking. Ye’re a wee lass. I dinnae ken if ye can manage.”
She pshawed at this, grateful that it was not Everard who was suffering. “’Tis me or naught. As I said, the healer has already sailed over the bay and willnae return fer a number of hours.”
The man gave a rueful nod. “I thank ye, Mistress.”
Davina straightened her spine to make herself as tall as she could. “I am Mistress Davina, and tae whom am I speaking?”
“Begging yer pardon, Mistress. Me name is Ban.”
She nodded. “Wait a few moments Ban, until I’ve collected what I need, and I will accompany ye tae the yard.”
Hurrying inside she managed to catch her breath while she collected several ointments, a tincture for pain, and another jar of arnica for bruising. She took down several rolls of bandages and placed it all in her basket.
