Page 90 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
Brianag placed a palm on her forehead. “You’re cool to the touch. Not clammy, either.”
“I’m feeling much better.”
The other woman didn’t respond.
Instead, she leaned forward, peering into Virginia’s eyes again.
“Any headaches?”
“Not now.”
“Delusions?”
“Unless believing Macrath would be reasonable could be considered a delusion.”
Brianag raised one eyebrow and said something that had her staring at the woman.
“I beg your pardon?”
Brianag smiled. “You’ll need to learn the way of speaking if you’re to remain here,” she said. “I told you biting and scratching is Scots folk’s wooing.”
“Well, I have no intention of wooing Macrath and I know for sure he isn’t wooing me.”
The other woman merely smiled.
Finally, Brianag settled back, nodded once, then reached into her basket. “You’ll use this twice a day on the remaining scabs,” she said, pointing to a jar. She held up a brown bottle. “And this once a day after you bathe your face and neck. The scars won’t show as much.”
“What will you tell him?” Virginia asked. “That I’m well, I hope. And I should be allowed to see my son.”
For a moment she thought Brianag wouldn’t answer her.
“I’m thinking you should wait for a few days. A week, maybe.”
“And after that?”
Brianag smiled again. “The tree doesn’t always fall at the first stroke.”
She stared at the door long after the woman left.
Hannah took one look at Mary and Agatha and stopped in the doorway. Folding her arms, she glared at both of them.
“And what would you be doing here?” she asked. “Did he pay you enough to forget about your loyalty, then?”
“He paid us enough to remember it’s the babe who needed us,” Agatha said.
“Leave them alone,” Macrath said, coming out of the shadows.
Startled, she dropped her arms and forced herself to stare back at him. Macrath’s hard eyes judged her like he was a hungry eagle and she was a rodent scampering up a hillside.
She’d faced him down once, she could do it again.
“I’m here on behalf of my mistress,” she said. “To ensure Elliot is being cared for.”
“My son is well,” he said.
Mary glanced out the window, while Agatha pretended great interest in the buttons of her bodice.
“Tell her nothing will convince me to allow my son to leave Drumvagen,” he said.
