Page 4 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
“Lady Ellen, I presume?” she murmured.
To her surprise, the mother superior snorted. “LadyHelen. Sister Mary Epiderma just likes to drop her aitches. Makes her sound like a bloody Frenchmen, if ye ask me.”
The older nun scowled. “I ken yer dislike of my ‘oly vow, but I’ll no’ forsake it.”
Coira propped one hip against one of the empty beds and studied the older nun with curiosity. “Ye dinnae say ‘H’ out of penance?”
“Many years ago, I prayed to St. Dorcas to save all my teet’, and vowed if she did, I would never say the letter ‘H’ again—Oh fook!” Sister Mary Epiderma gasped, slamming her hands over her mouth. “Look what ye made me do!” she mumbled accusingly.
Sister Mary Tits just chortled happily.
The older nun crossed herself thrice then hurried from the room mumbling novenas.
“Well, that’s got rid of her,” Mother Superior declared with a nod. “Aye, this is Lady Helen Douglass, puir lass. Her bairn came four months back, and she’s given up.”
Frowning, Nicola leaned over the patient, noticing the way her lank brown hair had been brushed neatly, and the fact she was younger than Leanna, the youngest of the Oliphant sisters. “Puir lass, indeed,” she murmured.
When she reached out to brush the hair away from the young woman’s forehead, she was surprised to find it warmer than expected. “She has a fever?”
“Aye. She’s lost the will to live.”
Nicola straightened and shot the nun a stern look. “What is this, the dark ages?Lost the will to live?”She scoffed. “I’m a medical professional. A fever is an indication of an infection.”
Sister Mary Titania nodded. “I’ll get the scented oils.”
“Och, Tits,” called out Coira, “ye dinnae think she’d fight to live for her bairn?”
Nicola was already shaking her head. “If the bairn died during the birth, it likely exacerbated—”
“Died? Nay!” When the nun bounced happily it did all sorts of frightening things to the front of her habit. “He’s a fine lad, braw, full of energy. A set of lungs on him that—” She grinned and patted her own chest. “Well, let me just say I’m impressed. He’s auld enough now to feed mush, thank Christ Jesus, since his mother wanted naught to do with him.” She shot the unconscious lass a frown. “We’ve been soaking rags in goat’s milk for him to suck on, but the goat’s starting to go off her milk. Well, I saywe, but mainly—”
St. Crystal’s eardrums, the woman could natter! “Mother,” interrupted Nicola firmly. “Ye’re saying the bairn is alive and well? Where is he? Mayhap we could try bringing him to her side; see if that’ll rouse her.”
She had some ideas what might be causing the young mother’s fever, and none of them were good, not this far after the birth. Losing the will to live mightactuallybe a problem in this instance. Mayhap sending for the priest for Last Rites wasn’t a bad idea.
Seemingly unbothered by the interruption, Sister Mary Titania pointed helpfully out the large door toward the balcony. “’Twillnae work, we’ve tried it already. Well, again, I saywe—”
“Ye mean Sister Mary Epiderma,” guessed Coira.
“Nay, I mean our other guest. Did I mention him? He’s the other reason we’ve invited ye to the convent.” When Nicola and Coira rounded on her, her grin turned sheepish. “Och, well, mayhap I dinnae mention him after all. ‘Tis a warrior, braw and handsome he is. Wounded nearby and brought to us for care.”
“And ye gave him care of anewborn?” Nicola gaped.
The nun shrugged, setting off more seismic activity. “He volunteered. And despite his scars and the size of his arms—which make me wish I hadnae taken vows, let me tell ye!—he’s as gentle as a lamb with the wee cherub. Aye, he’s—”
Guessing the loquacious woman could continue for some time, Nicola brushed past her toward the door. There were more white curtains here—likely more for appearances than function—and they swayed welcomingly in the afternoon breeze.
Nicola gathered the material in one hand, the linen cool in her palm, as she peered out onto the balcony. Therewasa man there, sitting on a bench near the crenellations some distance away.
He was hunched forward and she could see little of him, other than the fact he was dressed simply—in a plaid she didn’t immediately recognize—and had golden hair tied back with a leather thong at the base of his neck.
And, as the nun had said, he wasquitelarge.
He sat with one leg stretched out to the side as if favoring it, and Nicola could hear him murmuring something. Was he holding the bairn?
The thought of a man this large, this imposing, cradling a helplessbairn…well, something deep inside her went all gooey, and she suspected ‘twas her ovaries.
Damnation.
