Page 37 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
The old man’s eyes sharpened with professional interest. “What manner of difficulties?”
Heat rose in Rhona’s cheeks as she quickly manufactured a lie. “Women’s troubles. Ye ken how it can be – everything’ feels… unsettled.”
Baird studied her for a long moment, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see straight through her deception. But all he said was, “Aye, I’ve got somethin’ mild that should help. Though, if yer troubles persist–”
“I’m sure ‘tis just temporary,” Rhona quipped. “Just until things settle.”
“Of course.” Baird’s tone was carefully neutral. “I’ll send somethin’ up with Moira fer ye.”
Ian looked up from the correspondence scattered across his desk as Baird knocked on the solar door. The healer entered at his call, his weathered face thoughtful in the flickering candlelight.
“How did she dae today?” He asked without preamble, setting down his quill and giving the older man his full attention.
“Better than I expected,” Baird admitted, settling into the chair across from Ian’s desk with the careful movements of a man whose joints reminded him daily of his advancing years. “She has a true gift fer the healin’ arts.”
Ian felt something warm uncurl in his chest at the praise. “She was helpful then?”
“Helpful?” Baird chuckled, shaking his gray head. “Lad, she was more skilled than some healers I’ve trained fer years. Gentle hands, sure knowledge, and the sort of instinct ye cannae teach.”
“Did she try tae run?” Ian asked bluntly, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
“Nay. Nae once.” Baird leaned forward, his expression growing more serious. “But there’s somethin’ else ye should ken. I think the lass is havin’ trouble sleepin’.”
Ian’s attention sharpened. “How dae ye mean?”
“She asked me fer a sleepin’ draught.” Baird paused, choosing his words carefully. “Said it was women’s troubles, but–”
“But ye dinnae believe her.”
“I’ve been tendin’ folks fer near forty years, lad. I ken the difference between monthly troubles and the kind that comes from carryin’ burdens that are too heavy.” Baird’s eyes met Ian’s steadily. “Whatever’s keepin’ her awake, it isnae her body that’s the problem.”
Ian felt his jaw clench as understanding settled like a boulder in his stomach. “Thank ye fer tellin’ me,” Ian said quietly. “I’ll… look intae it.”
Baird nodded and rose to leave, then paused at the door. “She’s a good lass, Ian. Whatever else may come of all this politicalmaneuverin’ the Council has ye daein’, dinnae forget that she’s a person first.”
“Ye’ve been rather generous with yer praise of her, Baird.” Ian observed.
Baird’s weathered face creased in what might have been a rueful smile. “Aye, well…” He shifted uncomfortably. “The lass has been through hell, Ian. A kind word costs naething, and she clearly needs tae feel useful and appreciated again.”
“And?”
The healer sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “And I’m nae gettin’ any younger, laddie. Me hands shake more with each winter that passes and me eyes grow dim. I need someone I can train properly, someone with a real instinct fer these things.” His voice grew quietly urgent. “She could be that person. If she stays. If she… settles.”
Ian studied the healer’s face, seeing his own conflict reflected there – genuine compassion warring with practical necessity. “So yer kindness serves two purposes.”
“Aye.” Baird admitted without shame. “I pity her circumstances, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didnae hope she might find a reason tae make this her home. She could save lives here, Ian.”
After the healer left, Ian sat alone in his solar, staring at the papers before him without really seeing them. His mind wasfilled instead with images of Rhona as she’d been that morning – eager to help, grateful for the chance to do something meaningful, and more animated than he’d seen her. And underneath it all, was the shadow of whatever demons haunted her sleep.
What have we done tae her?
The question echoed in his mind as he made his way through the castle corridors toward Rhona’s chamber an hour later. He found the guards at their usual posts outside her door, alert but relaxed.
“Has she been quiet tonight?” he asked Ewan.
“Aye, me laird. Nay sound since she dismissed young Moira an hour past.”
Ian stepped forward and softly knocked on the door. “Rhona? ‘Tis Ian. May I come in?”
