Page 11 of The Cruel Highlander's Healer
Impressed, Eliza turned her attention back to the Laird.
“I’m guessin’ that’s Kate?” she asked, and he grunted the affirmative.
The woman, Kate, must have heard them because she stood up straight, her eyes immediately landing on where Eliza and the Laird lingered near the doorway. Then, when the woman regarded Eliza, she could have sworn that she saw something like relief coloring the other woman’s features.
Kate threw one more worried glance down at the bairn she’d just been helping before tearing her attention away and marching toward Eliza and Laird MacKinnon.
“Kate,” the Laird greeted the maid as she approached, keeping his voice low. “How are they?”
“It’s nae lookin’ good,” Kate’s eyes landed back on Eliza. “Ye’re the healer, then?”
Eliza nodded. “I’m Eliza, and I’d like to examine some of them if I can.”
Kate stepped aside, waiving her arm forward. “Please. And let me ken if I can help ye.”
As she walked in, Eliza heard light footsteps following not too far behind. She walked to the closest bed, eyes flickering down to the small form atop the mattress.
The child was a girl, bright red ringlets plastered to her forehead with a sheen of sweat. Her eyes were closed; the only sign of life was the slight rise and fall of her chest.
She didn’t stir as Eliza bent down closer to her body, eyes raking over the child as she did. Something cloyed at her senses, causing her nose to wrinkle the closer she got.
There was the smell of vomit in the air, yes. The smell of excrement, too. But there was something else accompanying it that didn’t seem to belong.
Sniffing delicately at the air, Eliza got even closer to the girl. Her nose hovered just inches from the child’s face as her mind worked to sort out the scent. She reached forward, rubbing at the side of the child’s throat, looking for any sign of knots or swelling before checking beneath the bairns arms.
There’s nay swelling.
Eliza noted, feeling the smoothness on the sides of the child’s neck.
That’s good, at least.
She ran over the list of symptoms in her mind – no swelling, a pungent smell on the breath. Eliza bent forward and sniffed again, and suddenly everything clicked.
She reached down, flipping over the child’s hands. Finding exactly what she was looking for, Eliza nodded as a suspicion began forming in her mind.
Walking to the next bed, Eliza repeated the same process. Bend to sniff the breath and check the hands. And again, to another child, and then another.
Each one was the same as the last, and after checking her fourth bairn, she finally felt satisfied that she knew exactly what was going on.
Turning back toward the doors, she found Kate standing not too far behind her.
The maid’s brow knit together.
“Ye ken what it is,” she said, and Eliza nodded.
She didn’t want to talk about it amongst the cots, on the off chance that one of the more lucid children might overhear them. Eliza indicated toward the doors where the Laird still stood, watching both women with that inscrutable look of his.
Eliza hustled back through the cots with Kate at her side, until finally they reached the boundary of the Great Hall. Laird MacKinnon stepped backwards, allowing them to pass.
The moment Eliza and Kate stepped into the corridor; the Laird shut the door with a soft thud. He whirled on Eliza, eyes flaring.
“Can ye help them? Can ye stop what’s makin’ them sick? Can ye do it in a fortnight?”
For a split second, the Laird’s expression seemed to shift, something like hope lingering in the depths of his gaze. But, as quickly as the expression was there, it was gone. Laird MacKinnon’s features fell back into its well-controlled scowl so quickly, Eliza had to wonder if she had imagined it entirely.
“Aye,” she said, seeing Kate sag with relief out of the corner of her eye. “I can help them. But it isnae a plague or an epidemic ye have on yer hands. Those bairns have been poisoned.”
CHAPTERSIX
