Meanwhile, Hamish found Fiona, who was sitting chatting and sewing with some other women. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she looked up, startled, then her expression became sullen. She guessed that he would be asking her a favour—probably on Amanda’s behalf, and she was right.
“Amanda needs a dress,” he told her. “Let her borrow one of yours.”
Fiona’s glare would have floored a stronger man. She said nothing, but stood up and flounced away to her tent, then returned with a worn and patched garment that looked as though it had seen many years of wear.
“This is a’ I have,” she told him, thrusting it into his grasp. Then she said spitefully, “Tell her she can keep it. I was only goin’ tae tear it up for cleanin’ rags anyway.”
Hamish opened his mouth to reply then decided not to waste his breath; when Fiona was in a mood like this, there was no reasoning with her, and he decided to let the matter drop.
He strode back to his tent and found Amanda sitting on his bed wearing the saddest expression he had ever seen on her face. She stood up when she saw him.
“I am sorry, sir,” she said quietly. “I should never have said those things to you… I’m ashamed of myself. Thank you for all your help.”
“Thank you for your apology,” Hamish replied, bowing his head as he gave her Fiona’s worn and patched dress. “But there is no need for it. Some men are animals, and you are right to be scared of them, but thankfully I am not one of them. I’m sorry about the state of this dress. I will have yours cleaned.”
His tone was regretful.
“It will do, thank you.” Amanda smiled at him, and, suddenly, it seemed as though the whole day had brightened. “Now, I must tend to my patient.”
“I will see you later,” Hamish replied. “Oh, and by the way, call me Hamish.”
He was reluctant to leave, but he knew he had to. As soon as he left Amanda, he felt bereft and utterly confused by the tangle of emotions that assailed him all at once. Desire, of course, but also fear of how Amanda was making him feel.
Damn her—she was turning him into her plaything.
8
Amanda went into the big tent with her heart beating nineteen to the dozen. As she was dressing she had been thinking about Hamish and was embarrassed that she had needed his help; after all, she was the healer, not Hamish.
As well as that, she had completely taken advantage of him when he had allowed her to sleep in his bed. It had been incredibly kind of him, of course, and very uncharitable of her to think the worst of him. She had slept in Hamish’s arms, and, remembering the feeling of his warmth around her, the scent of his body, and the feeling of safety he had engendered in her, Amanda wished she could remember more about their time together.
She blushed as she thought of the one thing she would like to have happen and then thrust the thought away. He was a Laird and she was a nobody.
Amanda entered the big tent, then realised that she had been so caught up in thinking about herself that she had forgotten about Jimmy, her patient.
However, as luck would have it, the first person she laid eyes on was Fiona, who looked at her and raised her eyebrows as shegave Amanda a thorough going-over from head to foot with a spiteful stare.
“I see my dress fits ye well, Sassenach,” she said airily. “I was goin’ tae tear it up for dishcloths, but I think it looks better on you. Just a wee bit better, mind, but dinnae let it go tae your heid.”
There was a chorus of laughter from the other women, but Amanda had learned by now that the best way to handle such behaviour was to ignore it, so she did just that, and walked past them without another glance.
She noticed a young man lying on a straw mattress in front of the fire, then realised that it was her patient, Jimmy. She walked over to him.
“Hi! How are you feeling today?” she asked pensively.
When he set eyes on her, his face lit up, and he rose to his feet then moved over to her, smiling widely.
“Thank ye so much, mistress,” he said gratefully. “I am feelin’ so much better now.”
Amanda smiled at him. “I was glad to help,” she replied. “Now, sit down and let me check that everything is as it should be. We do not want a relapse.”
The young man sat on his mattress and Amanda gave him a thorough inspection, then changed his bandage and applied some more wine and honey. She looked into his eyes and found them bright and clear, then felt his forehead to see if his temperature was still high. It was perfectly normal, however, and Amanda patted his shoulder.
“I am quite satisfied, Jimmy, but please come back to me every day and let me clean and check the wound. If you feel unwell at all, come to me at any time.”
Jimmy nodded and gave Amanda an impulsive hug. “Thank ye so much,” he said again. “It was a lucky day for us when ye came.”
Amanda felt a warm wave of happiness wash over her. At last, she was doing what she was meant to be doing—what made her happy. Now all she had to do was build up her store of medicines again, and she would be ready for anything!
