Page 55 of A Highland Healer Captured
“Da?” The voice was hoarse with dozing. “Is it morn or nay?”
“Near enough,” Zander said, smiling with only half his mouth. “We’ve work, Gray.”
“A bird job?” The spark came quick, hopeful. “We goin’ out again?”
Zander’s chest pinched. “Nae yet. A different kind of work. A clever lad’s work.”
Grayson tried to sit taller. Zander steadied him with a hand behind his shoulders, then let go so the boy could keep the victory of sitting himself.
“A plan,” Zander went on. “Mine and Lady Skylar’s. Ye ken how a hawk will lie soft on a branch, watchin’ the field like it’s sleepin’, till the vole shows its daft wee face?”
Grayson nodded, wary. “Aye.”
“That’s us,” Zander said. “We’ve a vole to catch. A nasty one. Someone’s been slippin’ wrong things in yer cup.”
The boy’s mouth went small. “A bad’un?”
“Aye.” Zander kept his voice even. “And we’re goin’ to catch the hand that does it. But to do it, we need ye to play sick for a bit longer. Stay close. The more ye look like ye need fussin’, the more the vole thinks it can creep. D’ye follow me?”
Grayson’s gaze slid toward the window, where a fern pressed against the glass like a prisoner. “So… nae outside?”
“Just now,” Zander said softly. “Only just now. We’ll build the perch yet. I’ve the rawhide ready. But for a handful of days we keep to the solar, the surgery, and me. Lady Skylar. Katie too. That’s the circle. We close it tight.”
The boy’s bottom lip trembled. He bit it like a soldier, then let out a breath through his nose and squared his wee shoulders. “I can do it.”
Zander’s stomach twisted with pride and sorrow both. “I ken ye can.”
Grayson frowned, practical as a steward. “But how’ll we catch the hand if it kens we’re watchin’?”
Zander’s mouth tugged. Saints, the lad was his father’s son. “We’ll make patterns and see who trips them. Some cups will be for show. Some jars for bait. The honey’ll live in me hand a time. If anything touches what ye drink and it’s nae me or Skylar, we’ll ken. Me men will be soft as shadows under Mason’s command.”
Grayson peered at the bedtable where yesterday’s cup stood clean and turned upside down. “Will they nae see the shadows?”
“Only if the shadows wish it,” Zander said. “We’ve got good ones.”
Grayson considered, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Must I cough on purpose?”
“Nay,” Zander said, a low laugh breaking. “If ye start actin’, ye’ll be dafter than the vole. Just be yerself. Tired, aye. Quiet when ye must. But nay lies from ye. Leave the trickin’ to me.”
Grayson nodded. The brave face wobbled, then set. “I wanted to go out with ye,” he admitted, small and fierce at once. “Wanted to hear the crows tell me I’m daft.”
“They toldme,” Zander said dryly. “Came to the wall and cawed it till me ears rang. ‘That Da’s a daft fool,’ they said.” He leaned in with a mock whisper. “But the kestrel came after and said, ‘Nae, he’s only stubborn.’”
Grayson’s giggle rasped but it was there. “Ye’re stubborn,” he agreed. “Like the old ram in Burnfoot that butts the gate.”
“Aye, that one’s me kin.” Zander smoothed the lad’s hair back, palm lingerin’ a heartbeat longer than it should. “Listen, Gray. I need ye to ken a thing. Whether ye’re outside or nae, whether ye run the yard or sleep the day long— I’m proud of ye. D’ye hear me? I was proud before ye took yer first breath. And I’ll be proud when ye’re a toothless rogue feedin’ crumbs to birds ye shouldnae.”
Grayson shut his eyes fast, like to hide the wet. “Ye’ve taught me all I’ll need to ken.”
Zander pretended not to see. “Good lad. Now. Here’s what happens. Katie keeps the door. Only me, her, and Skylar. She will bring the tinctures to yer lips. If any soul—any soul at all—tries to be kind with a sweet or a sip when we’re nae lookin’, ye say, ‘Me Da will thrash me if I disobey.’ Put it on me back. I’ll take it.”
“That part I like,” Grayson muttered, a gleam wakin’ under the lashes.
“Thought ye might,” Zander said. “Second, when Skylar brings aught, ye watch her eyes.”
“Her eyes?”
“Aye,” Zander said, and surprise touched him as he spoke the truth of it. “They tell more than her mouth. If she’s pleased, ye drink easy. If she’s puzzlin’, ye ask what she’s thinkin’ so she says it out. That lass is a whole book—ye just have to ken how to read it.”
