Page 36 of The Cruel Highlander's Healer
“We’ve created plenty tonic,” Eliza explained.
Her voice was higher than usual, and she cleared her throat, hoping to banish some of the jealousy clogging it.
“This will get you through the week,” she continued on, happy that her voice had returned to some semblance of normal. “After that, if anyone is still showin’ symptoms, you’ll need to make another batch. Will ye be alright to do that?”
Eagerly the two women nodded. Sheena beamed at her.
“We cannae thank ye enough,” the old woman said, her eyes flickering over her shoulder to what Eliza knew was surely the Laird. “Both of ye.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she found that the Laird had stood. He was closer than he had been before she’d crossed the tent, and Eliza started at his proximity.
The Laird’s eyes did not leave Eliza, not as he just nodded at Sheena’s words in acceptance of our gratitude.
“If ye will excuse us,” he said to the women, gaze still fixed on Eliza. “We’ve both had quite a day. So we’ll be goin’ to get some supper. If ye need us, we’ll be at the Thistlewood.”
Sheena and Louisa chattered their thanks to them until Eliza and the Laird had exited the tent. She glanced toward the opening of the other tent again, noting Isabel flickering to and fro as she administered the next round of tonic.
She was a girl. Not yet even sixteen years of age. But Eliza had noted immediately as she’d instructed her earlier in the day that the girl had a natural talent for healing.
Eliza had been much younger than Isabel when Marissa took her in. And, as she and the Laird strode away, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, after all this was said and done, she should return to the village and train the girl.
“We’ll be stayin’ at the Thistlewood this evenin’ and ride out at first light.”
The Laird’s voice broke through Eliza’s thoughts as her head whipped in his direction.
“Stayin’?” she asked, her voice rising an octave in shock. “We’re nae leavin’ for the castle tonight?”
The Laird shook his head. “Too late. And we’ve all been workin’ all day. It’ll do us all some good to get some rest.”
Eliza wanted to protest, but in the few days since she’d been kidnapped by this man, she had learned enough about him to know that it was futile. If she argued back with him, all he’d do is glower at her and then they’d argue. And truthfully, she was too tired to deal with any of it.
It was only about a block before Eliza spotted a sign with the words Thistlewood Inn in a lovely, delicate script. The building itself was quaint. Three stories and made of wood, with large windows that she could only imagine would light the building up in the morning sun.
Wooden boxes filled with bright, purple blooms were under many of the windows. And, as they got closer and saw the spiky, spiny buds just beneath them, she couldn’t help but chuckle.
The Laird shot her a quick look, eyebrows raising in question and Eliza pointed to the blooms on the front of the building.
“They’re thistle,” she said, humor still lighting her words. “And the building is made of wood. Thistle and Wood. It’s just clever, is all.”
He simply stared at her, clearly not finding the decorations and witty naming as humorous as she did. The smile fell from her face.
He opened the door wordlessly, stepping to the side so that Eliza could walk past him. Stepping into the inn, a low murmur rose up to greet her.
The space was wide and open, filled with tables and chairs. People occupied many of them, lost in conversation as they ate their supper.
The scent of bread and meat filled the air, and Eliza’s stomach gave a loud grumble. It was only then that she’d realized she hadn’t eaten more than a nibble of cheese and a bit of ale at lunch time.
Glancing beside her, she saw the Laird making a quick pace for the long wooden counter at the far end of the room. She trotted along after him, eyes still taking in all of her surroundings.
“I need a room,” the Laird ordered as he approached the bar maid. “Two beds.”
The girl was pretty, with soft rosy cheeks and bright yellow hair. Her blue eyes widened as she looked up at the Laird, clearly intimidated by his hulking presence.
“I apologize, me laird,” the girl stammered, her eyes darting down to the counter before her. “But we only have a room with one bed. All of our doubles have been rented for the night.”
He grumbled something under his breath, but Eliza couldn’t make it out before he began speaking directly to the barmaid once more.
“That’s alright then,” he growled. “A room with one bed will have to do.”
