Page 7 of MacAlister's Hope
“His dema— Nay, he did not demand such a thing, did he?”
Kieron smiled at her. She hadn’t been hesitating over treating the chief, she’d been figuring out what to do. Her concentration reminded him of his grandmother. “Aye, he did. Tell me what you need and I shall see it fetched immediately.”
Fia turned her attention back to the chief. Even Kieron could tell that though he slept, his pinched, grey face spoke clearly that he was in great pain.
“I need more of whatever sleeping draught the women have given him for what I need to do will cause more pain before it begins to help. I need warm water and rags to clean him, oats— enough to fill a large pot, but not cooked—a mortar and pestle, a kettle of hot water, and my bag.”
Kieron pointed at the end of the bed where he had laid her saddlebag, then went to the door, relaying Fia’s requirements to the women who had been tending the chief.
“Can she help him?” one of them asked.
“I believe she can,” he answered, then closed the door again, sending up a prayer that he was right.
Three days later and all Fia had accomplished was to help the chief sleep a bit with the soothing of her oatmeal poultice. His eye was so swollen the lid could not open and he complained of the pain of it even when the blisters on his torso were bearable. A willow bark brew did little to help with either the fever or the pain. She’d even had Annis make a brew of birch, and they had tried a poultice of balsam, but neither had done more to ease the man’s pain than the willow and oatmeal.
Fia paced the chief’s chamber, exhaustion pulling at her feet, but the need to find some solution to this affliction kept her from resting. The door opened quietly and Fia tensed. Kieron came in, followed closely by Annis with the fresh kettle of willow and birch infused with garlic she’d been sent to make more than an hour ago. Thank heaven Tavish wasn’t with them. Fia did not think she could take another confrontation with that one, though she knew he would be by before much longer to push her out into the corridor and rail at her for not healing his father.
But not while Kieron was here, she realized. Tavish never berated her when Kieron was about. She took a deep breath, letting the tension of the anticipated confrontation ease out of her—for now.
“Pour a cup, Annis,” she said quietly, “and set it on the table to cool. I do not want to wake him if I do not have to. ’Tis the only reprieve from the pain we can give him right now.”
Annis nodded and did as she was told, another miracle created by the presence of Kieron. She did not ken why Annis was wary of Kieron, but she was grateful for it. “Will you fetch some fresh bed linens?” she asked the woman.
When Annis turned to face Fia, her mouth was set in a disgruntled line but she did not complain that she was being sent on yet another errand. The truth was, Fia could not stand the sly cuts of Annis’s conversation and glances anymore. The constant doubt Annis sowed wore on Fia and she was sure she would not be able to keep a civil tongue much longer, so she kept the woman busy and away from the chamber as much as possible.
“You should let her sit with the chief,” Kieron said when the door was closed.
“I do not trust her attention enough to do that.” Speaking those words lifted a weight from her she had not realized she carried.
“Then let me. Tell me what to do if he wakes. You can rest on the pallet over there that has yet to be used.”
She worried her lower lip, weighing her fatigue against the needs of the chief. Kieron held out a hand to her and she only hesitated a moment before reaching out and settling her palm against his. When he gently pulled her close she did not resist. He enfolded her in his embrace and laid his cheek against the top of her head. For a moment she froze, surprised to find his embrace so welcome.
“You are too tired, Fia.” He ran his big hand up and down her back, as if he soothed a bairn, and she allowed herself to relax, to rest her cheek against his broad chest, to let him hold her. “A little sleep will clear your mind and perhaps then you can discover another way to help the chief.”
Fia closed her eyes. The scent of him—the sharp scent of evergreen, the cool scent of fresh Highland air, and a spicy scent she could not name but that was his all alone—surrounded her, soothing her better than any herbal brew she might take. The slow beat of his heart against her cheek, and the comfort of his strong arms around her, revived her more than sleep could. Here was a welcome shelter from the storm of doubt and worry that she had weathered from the moment she agreed to come to Kilglashan.
“I know you can help him,” he whispered into her hair.
“Do you really?” Fia asked looking up into his brilliant green eyes. She was captured by both the care and the desire that lit them, like sun sparkling through new leaves.
“Aye, I do.”
“Why?”
Kieron stared into her eyes for a long moment, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, lightly, but the touch of his lips to hers lit a need inside her so fierce it took her by surprise. She rose up on her toes, laid her hands against his scratchy cheeks, and pressed her lips to his, letting all thought and all care fall away as she lost herself in the softness of his mouth. He let out a low growl and pulled her hard against him, even as she swept her tongue along the line of his lips. She did not know why she did that, but followed her instincts and was rewarded when he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue over hers. Jolts of desire raced through her, focusing her every fiber on this moment, this man, this kiss.
A short rap on the door had them leaping apart just as Annis swung it open, her arms filled with fresh bedding. Kieron turned away, shoving his hair back from his face as he moved to a small window and peered out toward the village. Fia hoped Annis could not tell what she had interrupted, but the knowing smirk on the woman’s face dashed her optimism.
Annis used her hip to close the door with a bang, startling the chief awake. Fia wiped her sweat-damp hands on her skirt and turned her attention back to where it should be—on her patient—chiding herself for allowing her attention to be drawn away so easily.
“How are you feeling?” She asked him as she lifted a rag from the bowl of cool water on the table and wrung it out, then smoothed it against the man’s forehead and the side of his face unaffected by the blisters.
“Thirsty.”
“I have a brew for you. This one is stronger so it should help with the pain.”
The chief merely grunted as he tried to shift in his bed. A grimace, combined with a moan he tried to swallow, told her the pain still rode him. Kieron came to the bedside and helped the chief as Fia held the light sheet of the finest linen away from him so it would not pull across his skin as he moved, for even that light weight was unbearable.
