Page 52 of A Healer for the Ruthless Highlander
It was Duncan Bowie, a man very knowledgeable about agricultural techniques.
His face was contorted in a sneer, but Kenneth already knew that the man was very much given to gossip and tavern talk, so he usually did not pay much attention to him.
“I’ve heard from a good source that she and her sisters were involved in some sort of assassination attempt on their Laird.”
“Are ye sure we’re talkin’ about the same person?” Lady Isobel asked, looking confused.
Duncan nodded. “Aye. The girl was accused of witchcraft, but it could never be proven. Her Laird tried to take matters into his own hands, but it is said that the young woman is as beautiful as she is skilled and that she, along with her sisters?—”
Suddenly, Kenneth, who had been drumming his fingers on his thigh, slammed his hand on the table, cutting him off.
“The healer is me guest, and as such, I willnae allow ye to slander her,” he said in a tone firm enough to silence everyone.
“I’m sorry, me Laird. I didnae mean to—” Duncan began.
“In any case, it doesnae matter. Whichever of the two is true, she isnae stayin’ for long,” Maxwell Aitken, a member of the council and the former Laird’s main advisor, interjected.
The Old Sea Wolf, whose appearance was rather hostile, had been biting his tongue until now. Or so Kenneth supposed. He knew for a fact that the man was not one for small talk.
Fortunately, Maxwell’s hostility warded off any further attempt at discussing Leana or her past, and the council soon returned to more pressing matters.
However, Kenneth’s thoughts kept drifting to the dark-haired healer, especially the stories of her past.
“I give up, I give up, I give up! I cannae take it anymore!” Valerie yelled, just before she collapsed in the middle of the meadow, laughing until she cried.
Leana, who was also out of breath, plopped down next to her, looking up at the blue sky, which was barely pierced by the occasional lazy cloud.
Soon, Hunter joined them.
“Then I win!” he declared victoriously, still laughing.
“Only because I cannae run in this annoying dress anymore,” Valerie complained, to which he shrugged.
“Whatever, I win!” he declared again.
Leana let out a light laugh. “Aye. Ye beat us both fair and square,” she assured him.
Smiling, she reached out a hand to stroke his hair, noting the bright look in his eyes, as well as the healthy color of his cheeks.
It was obvious that Hunter’s health had improved considerably over the past few days, which was a great relief to Leana. Her treatments had continued in a chain of experimentation, amongwhich she had included all sorts of infusions with different ingredients, either from the private gardens of the castle, or from the meadows, or even from the nearby merchants.
Fortunately, the Laird could afford to buy some rather expensive ingredients from abroad, which Leana had used to prepare some ointments and remedies for Hunter, hoping that some of her infusions, ointments or teas would help him get better. Finally, she had decided on a series of infusions that had the best effect on Hunter, which seemed to be quite a relief.
Although she was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, there was also an unpleasant feeling in the air. She, who should be satisfied that she had done a good job and would soon be going home, found herself reluctant to think about it. Every time she thought of leaving, a dull ache settled in her chest, spreading like a shadow she couldn’t shake. The mere idea of saying goodbye to Kenneth made her throat tighten, her fingers curling involuntarily as if bracing against the inevitable loss.
So, she preferred to focus on other things. She didn’t want to deal with her feelings, whatever they might be, so she’d better content herself with thinking about the ultimate treatment to cure Hunter’s illness and everything she had to prepare for along the way. With luck, and if things continued to go well, she would have at least a few days before she had to say goodbye to Kenneth for good.
Her thoughts were unmistakably bitter, and that caused her to play absentmindedly with the flower stems, which she began to braid almost without realizing it.
“What are ye doin’?” Hunter asked curiously, sitting down next to her.
“I’m makin’ ye a wreath. For winnin’ the game,” Leana explained.
Hunter shook his head. “But wreaths are for girls,” he protested.
Leana scowled at him. “Of course they’re nae. Flowers are for boysandgirls,” she corrected.
As she spoke, she picked up a strand of lavender, the color so intense that it contrasted sharply with the grass-green of the wreath.
