Page 22 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
Finally, Roderick reached the garden’s main quarters, and he walked down a stone pathway that led to a small, ivy-covered annex attached to one of the castle’s outer walls.
“Dinnae worry, Moira,” he said as they reached the annex’s weathered wooden shutters, “ye’re goin’ tae be all right.”
Outside the healer’s chambers, was a large garden filled with rows of well-tended herbs, such as thyme, sage, rosemary… The strong scent of oils filled the air as Benedict Dunbar, the castle’s healer, opened the two doors immediately. He must have seen them coming.
“Me laird,” Mr. Dunbar called, his voice rich and steady as he stepped out of the chamber. The castle’s healer was a stout man with silver-streaked hair and a perpetual look of calm. He wiped his hands on a linen cloth, the faint traces of herbs and oils clinging to his fingers. “What’s all this now?”
Roderick shifted Moira in his arms slightly, his expression serious. “Lady Wilson’s hurt her ankle. She cannae walk on it. I need ye tae tak' a look.”
Mr. Dunbar’s sharp eyes darted to Moira, scanning her with precision. “Bring her inside,” he instructed, stepping out the way, and allowing them to enter.
Mr. Dunbar’s chambers smelled more strongly on the inside. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and mint, and the room was both cozy and chaotic. To the left was a small bed, and in the center stood a sturdy oak table that was cluttered with vials, notes, and bowls of oils and herbs.
Roderick carried Moira to the small cot by an oval window, carefully setting her down. She winced and avoided his gaze, apparently focusing intently on the garden outside. The sunlight spilled through the panes, streaking down the center of her face, and accentuating her soft features– she was soft in ways Roderick hadn’t noticed before.
Roderick couldn’t help but admire the way the light danced in her eyes, turning them into a striking mix of light and dark emerald green.
“She seems tae be in a lot o’ pain,” Mr. Dunbar said, his voice cutting through the air and diverting Roderick’s attention toward him. “What happened out there?”
“Well,” Roderick began. “We were just takin' a walk in the rose gardens, an' all of a sudden she fell. I had tae grab hold o' her afore she fell tae the ground, I dinnae ken exactly what happened—I didnae see, but she must’ve gotten her foot caught on somethin’. I think her ankle twisted pretty badly.”
As Roderick spoke, Moira continued to shift on the cot, in pain. He stood by Mr. Dunbar, hovering over her, and watching her intently, wishing there was more he could do.
“Alright, me laird,” Mr. Dunbar responded, his voice calm. “It’ll be alright, just slow down, tak’ a seat and trust me, I ken what I’m doin’.”
Roderick didn’t think that he had been speaking fast at all, for he had been wrapped up in taking care of Moira. But as Mr. Dunbar’s calm voice broke through his anxious thoughts, he realized that his fists had been clenched, his shoulders were rigid, and his jaw was set with an intensity that filled his whole body with a sense of unsettled urgency.
“I’m calm, but she’s been in pain from the moment she twisted it,” Roderick said, exhaling slowly, his voice laced worry. He had had some unpleasant experiences with the doctor and wanted to make sure Moira was in the right hands.
He moved to sit on a chair facing the bed Moira was on, his gaze unwavering as he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees.
“I will take care of her, me laird, ye need nae worry.”
Roderick nodded, but did not leave her side.
The healer moved toward the bed where Moira lay silently on her back, and spoke to her as he assessed her injury. “Lady Wilson, I’m goin’ tae move yer leg, and I want ye tae tell me if it hurts.”
“Aye,” Moira responded softly, her voice strained.
He shifted her ankle slightly to the left. Moira’s lips tightened, and her breath hitched. “Hurt?”
She nodded.
“And this?” he asked, moving her ankle to the right with the same deliberate care.
Moira winced, gripping the blanket beneath her. “Aye, that’s worse.”
Roderick leaned forward in his chair, his jaw tightening as he watched the exchange.
“It is nae thing too serious, just a bad twist,” Mr. Dunbar said.
“An’ what should she dae?”
Roderick was both cautious and impatient when it came to the health and well-being of those around him, and Moira was no exception.
“Here’s what I’m going to dae,” Mr. Dunbar began, “first, I’ll make ye a poultice tae reduce the swelling and then I’ll wrap yer ankle tae keep it stable. Ye’ll need rest—complete rest—an’ elevation fer a few days at least. That means nae putting weight on it.”
“All right,” Moira said. “I think I can manage that.”
