Page 43 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
Within the hour, the reports came flooding in. Six more villagers had taken ill overnight, three children and three adults, all showing the same symptoms. Warriors were sent to gather them and bring them to the keep, so they could be seen together and tended to without delay.
Constantine moved through Duart’s corridors with the focused efficiency of a man accustomed to crisis, barking orders and organizing resources.
“Lilias,” he called to his sister as she hovered uncertainly in the great hall. “Can ye help without getting in the way?”
“Aye, pardon me, braither. Tell me what tae dae.”
“Work with Moira. We’ll need more broth than the kitchens have ever made, and fresh bread for those who can eat. And find every blanket in the castle—the fever breaks in sweats, and we’ll need tae keep people warm after.”
She nodded eagerly and hurried toward the kitchens. Constantine continued his preparations, mentally cataloging supplies and space. The lower halls would serve as a makeshift infirmary, close enough to the kitchens for easy access to food and hot water, but separate from the main living quarters to prevent the illness from spreading further.
Theo appeared at his shoulder without being summoned, reading the situation with the instincts of a man who’d followed Constantine through countless emergencies.
“Should I get the medical supplies?” Theo asked simply.
“Aye. Get the ones from the stables,” Constantine replied. “There’s a chest in the tack room—willow bark, feverfew, and anything else that might help with fever. And send someone tae fetch the healer, old Ishbel, from the village. We’ll need her knowledge.”
Theo nodded and strode away without another word. Constantine felt a familiar satisfaction at working with men who understood him well enough to anticipate his needs. Crisis had a way of stripping away pretense, revealing who could be counted on when everything fell apart.
What he hadn’t expected was Rowena stepping into the great hall, taking one look at the organized chaos, and immediately moving to join it.
“Where dae ye need me?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves.
Constantine paused in his instructions to a group of servants. “Ye dinnae need tae?—”
“Where dae ye need me?” she repeated, her tone brooking no argument.
He studied her face for a moment, seeing the determined set of her jaw, the way she’d already begun assessing the situation with sharp, calculating eyes. “Lower halls. We’re setting up beds for the sick.”
She nodded once and disappeared down the corridor. Constantine returned to his tasks, but found his attention divided, part of his mind tracking her movements even as he organized the castle’s response to the crisis.
Twenty minutes later, he descended to the lower halls to check on their progress and stopped short. The space had been transformed. Where he’d envisioned a simple arrangement of mattresses in rows, Rowena had created something with far more care.
She’d divided the large hall into sections—one area for the most critically ill, positioned closest to the braziers for warmth, another for those with milder symptoms, and a third space set aside for mixing medicines and preparing treatments. Servants moved efficiently between the areas under her quiet direction, no one seeming confused about their tasks or getting into each other’s way.
“The children go here,” she was saying to a group of women carrying armloads of bedding. “Close enough tae the adults that their mothers can tend to them, but separated enough that we can monitor them easily. And mind the drafts. Little ones lose heat faster than grown folk.”
Constantine found himself watching her work with growing fascination. This wasn’t the careful politeness she’d shown in the village or the measured responses she’d given during their conversations. This was Rowena leading through competence rather than authority.
“Me lady,” one of the serving women asked hesitantly, “What about the herb preparations? Old Ishbel will be here soon, but should we start anything now?”
“Aye. Set pots of water to boil with willow bark—a handful for each pot, nae more. We can add feverfew and elderflower when Ishbel arrives tae guide the proportions. And make sure someone’s always tending the fires. The last thing we need is tae run out of hot water.”
The woman nodded and hurried away. Rowena continued her circuit of the room, adjusting the placement of braziers, directing the arrangement of supplies, checking each bed to ensure it was properly positioned.
She moved with the same calm efficiency Constantine had seen her display when examining the castle’s defenses, but there was something more—a tenderness in how she smoothed blankets, a gentle authority that made people want to follow her guidance.
“Impressive,” Constantine said quietly, stepping up beside her.
She glanced at him, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “I hope ye dinnae mind the changes. I ken ye had a plan, but?—”
“But yers is better.” He gestured toward the organized space.
Shouts from the courtyard announced the arrival of the sick villagers. He and Rowena moved toward the entrance as Theo and several men carried in young Tam, the boy’s face flushed with fever, his breathing labored and shallow.
“Here,” Rowena called, indicating a bed she’d positioned near both a brazier and the supply area. “Close tae warmth and medicine.”
As they settled the child, his mother hovered anxiously nearby. “He’s been burning with fever since before dawn,” she said, her voice tight with worry. “And the coughing... it sounds like his chest is full of stones.”
