Page 47 of Sinbound to the Highlander
Her words eked a shared look between Lady Ruthven and the head-healer, one that Freya thought was either pity, or compassion—probably a mix of both—before she shrugged. “If ye need more cures, I can happily share them with ye during the time I’m here. I daenae anticipate being anywhere much but for me room.”
“I wouldnae go so far, Dear,” Lady Ruthven said before nodding to her healer, “Good day, Missus Delilah. Please, share what Miss Crushom has given ye with the rest of the healers. Miss Crushom, will ye take a walk with me?”
Another walk?
Her reply was a nod and a smile, as she fell in step with Lady Ruthven, feeling her anxiety about the pending conversation ratchet up with every step. The Lady led them to a shadowed walk with witling hedges on each side. Stopping to finger a lone leaf, Freya wanted to say something, but her words were stuck in her throat.
“Ye shouldn’t be so hard on yerself, Miss Crushom,” Lady Ruthven said. “I willnae lie and say I understand where yer coming from, but I ken ye shouldnae ken so little of yerself. Ye have a lot to offer.”
Freya sighed heavily, “Back in me village, away from the outer world with their various customs and demands, I had. I wish I could think as ye want me to, but I am wholly unprepared for this lifestyle. There is naythin’ fitting for me here. Me sister is used to this life, I am nae, and I doubt I’ll ever be.”
“And that’s where ye’re wrong,” Lady Ruthven corrected with compassion. “Ye might ken ye’re nay fitted, but I ken ye’re more prepared for this than ye believe.”
Her eyebrows darted up, “How so, Lady Ruthven? I daenae ken yer fancy cakes and pastries, I’ve never tasted wine before nor do I have a liking for it, I have nay knowledge of yer dances, clan history, and I have little taste for finery. I ken a plain dress or a silken one does the same task on a woman’s body.”
Lady Ruthven’s smile broadened, “All I heard was a woman that prioritizes healthy food, and one who kens a simple life is more wholesome. I do agree, a dress is a dress, whether it’s made of cheesecloth or silk.”
“And the dances and clan history?” Freya asked dubiously. “I do ken our noble houses rely on the strengths of their forefaithers more than anything else.”
“Both of those can be learned, me Dear,” Lady Ruthven said. “And based on what ye’ve just shown me, in the healing room, ye’re nay short in the ability to grasp new things. Am I mistaken?”
Grudgingly, Freya admitted, “Nay, Lady Ruthven, ye’re nae. But I feel like I lack in all other sectors. I ken I’m destined to live an abnormality, a woman born from riches but only kens the ways of peasants.
“Again,” Lady Ruthven corrected, “ye are lookin’ at it the wrong way. Ye have access to both worlds. Take the common sense from yer humble life, to the richness ye now have, and use it to better both of yer homes.”
Freya’s lips slipped open.Why havenae I kent of that?
“Dresses and jewels or finery cannot outdo common sense, care, compassion, and love, Dear,” Lady Ruthven said. “And it’s me opinion that ye have all the latter. Do nae ken less of yerself Dear, and if ye’d allow me to share a secret with ye. I ken me Son kens more of ye than any lass he has ever met before.”
Freya nearly slapped a hand to her neck—where Evan had kissed and suckled on last night—but kept her hand still at her side. Her fingers did clench and skitter over the cloth there. “Ye…Ye truly do ken it can be so, daenae ye?”
“I’d never had spoken if I dinnae believe it,” Lady Ruthven said, “I believe ye have all ye need within ye, Miss Crushom.”
Doubts began to slither into her mind, but Freya pushed them away.I may have all I need, but will they be enough?
