Page 11 of Highland Sword
To know so many cared warmed her heart. She was accepted here, welcomed, liked. These people were her chosen family. “What did you tell them?”
“The truth, of course.” Isabella sent her a sidelong look. “I should tell you, however, Blair and his men were highly entertained at the image of you stumbling over your own feet and giving yourself a fat lip.”
“I don’t care if they laugh, so long as Searc doesn’t stop me from going in to Inverness with them.”
“Well, about that… we need to discuss the topic awee bit more before you step foot away from Dalmigavie again.”
A maternal warning or a sister’s friendly word of caution? Isabella had the ability to shift her role easily, depending on what the situation warranted. But regardless of the part she played, she was always the lioness, ready to protect Maisie and Morrigan.
Blair was waiting by the courtyard door to escort them into the village. The tall Highlander cocked his head to the side, assessing Morrigan’s face as she stepped out into the sun.
“I never thought of ye as the clumsy sort, lass. Why didn’t ye tell us on our way back from Inverness that ye were hurt?”
“What for?”
“I’d have gone back and given the cobblestones of that street a pounding for tripping ye up.”
“I couldn’t say anything. I was worried that you or Searc might faint dead away at the sight of a few drops of blood.”
Blair grinned. “Well, I can see yer mouth is still working.”
They hurried to catch up with Isabella, who was striding off at a quick pace. It was good to be outside. Two days of self-imposed isolation in her room might have been important for her physical healing, but they’d been brutal on her mind. Far too much time to think, to remember the things she was supposed to keep buried.
Morrigan took a deep breath of fall air and turned her attention to Isabella. “So, who is this we’re seeing? What’s wrong with him… or is it her?”
“Him.”
For many years Morrigan had shadowed her father at the medical clinic he and Isabella ran on Infirmary Streetin Edinburgh. As a result, she had a solid grasp of diseases, as well as what to do to be useful at a sick person’s bedside.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He has some kind of lung disease, struggling to breathe.”
“Consumption?”
“I haven’t seen him. We’ll soon find out.”
So many were dying of the disease all over Europe. She recalled discussions of the growing epidemic in Edinburgh. “Where are they keeping him?”
“In the empty cottage on the far side of the fields, the one by the edge of the forest. Before coming here to Dalmigavie, they stayed at the hunting lodge,” Isabella told her. “Apparently, he needs a doctor badly, but Searc didn’t want me going so far to see him. This morning, they brought him up to the village.”
Morrigan glanced at a group of children running with a pair of dogs between the cottages. “Is it safe to bring someone so sick to the village?”
“They’re keeping him inside. I don’t want you to come past the threshold.”
“How about you?”
“If it is consumption, I’ve treated patients with it before. But he could have something else entirely.” Isabella squeezed Morrigan’s hand. “I’ll be fine.”
There was no sense in arguing when the physician side of Isabella took over. She didn’t see danger. She didn’t care about her own safety. There were no faces, only patients. She became totally focused on what she had to do. Friends and enemies were treated the same.
“Who brought him here? His kin?”
“Not his kin. I don’t know their connection, but he’s traveling with the Grant brothers.”
“Don’t know them.”
“Aidan and Sebastian Grant. Aidan is an Edinburgh barrister. From what I hear, he is a young man of great character and promise. Queen Caroline and Mr. Brougham, her attorney, wanted Cinaed to meet him. Sebastian, the younger brother, is a solicitor. A war hero too, they tell me.”
