Roderick grunted rudely. “She is completely besotted with this man. He has her in thrall.”
Alan grasped his daughter’s hand and gazed up at her, his thick auburn-and-white brows drawn together. “Is this true, Rose?”
Rose hesitated for the merest second, then shook her head. “No, Da.”
Isobel had begun to cry, and Sir Philip put an arm around her, pressing her head into his shoulder. Alan looked at the gloomy faces surrounding him.
“Come now,” he said with false cheer. “Let’s not be so fiddle-faced. What of Stephen, aye? Come here, lad.”
The young blond man stumped forward.
Alan gazed up at William hopefully. “Mayhap Lord Strathwick can heal Stephen?”
William rubbed his fingers hard into his closed eyes. The pain was nearly blinding now, compounded by the fact that heknewhe could not heal Stephen.
He sighed and dropped his hand. “I cannot help the lad.”
At this revelation everyone began to talk at once.
“What do you mean?”
“How do you know?”
“You haven’t even looked at his back!”
“You won’t even try?”
“Do you even know what ails him?”
The lad himself said nothing; he only stood there, staring down at his hands braced over the top of his cane. William gritted his teeth, feeling like an ass and a fraud.
Rose gazed up at William, studying him with a small, worried frown. “You are unwell.”
He thought to deny it, but in truth, he wanted out of this room and away from these people, so he nodded.
“Lord Strathwick is unwell,” Rose announced, her hand on his arm, propelling him toward the door. “We’ll continue this on the morrow.”
“How convenient,” Roderick said, shaking his head contemptuously. “Well, on the morrow I will have many questions,healer.”
Drake bumped into him rather violently and unnecessarily on the way to the door. Roderick went for his dirk, but Sir Philip’s hand was on his shoulder, his back to them. He lowered his head to speak to Roderick in a low voice. Planning the lynching, no doubt.
The door closed behind William, Drake, and Rose.
“I am going to kill your uncle,” William said mildly.
Rose’s shoulders slumped. “What would you think if you were him?”
William’s jaw tightened. “That I was a fake.”
“I would, too, if I hadn’t seen you heal.” She started walking, and William and Drake followed. Her words made William’s head pound harder. Hefeltlike a fake, which was absurd and made him even angrier. He glanced at Drake, who glowered at her back. William elbowed him, and he directed his scowl elsewhere.
She led them up two curving stone stairways, then down a short hall to a door. “You’ll have to share. The earl and all his retainers take up a lot of room when they visit.”
Drake crossed the chamber and threw himself face-down on the bed, giving William a moment alone with Rose.
He leaned against the wall beside the door. “I am sorry.”
And he was sorrier than he’d ever been for not being able to help someone he didn’t know. He knew nothing of Alan MacDonell but what Rose had told him. Whether the man lived or died was nothing to him. But it mattered to Rose, and so now it mattered to him.
