Hamish sighed. “I want you to do what any healer does, keep us well,” he answered, looking at her as though she were a simpleton. “Keep us healthy so that we can fight our battles.”
“But one of your men suggested that I should mix poisons. I am telling you here and now that I will not do that. My goal is to heal, not to hurt.” Amanda’s voice was firm.
She found herself a moment later in a staring contest with Hamish McNeill. He was strong in every way, but Amanda, despite her meek appearance, was stubborn, and it was he who dropped his gaze first.
“You are so naïve,” Hamish said scornfully. “I want you to be on the side of the righteous—us.” He thumbed his chest to emphasise his point. “You were sent to work for a bad man, so I am stopping you from having to do that.”
“But he is sick and needs my services,” Amanda protested. “You are standing in my way—your brother could be dying.”
Hamish laughed cynically. “Do you think you would have got there unscathed?” he asked. “That creature who shared the carriage with you is Struan’s dogsbody, and he knows he can twist my brother round his little finger. Any woman in the castle is fair game to him, and he knows that he can do anything he likes with no censure from Struan. And from what I saw, he was moments from taking what he wanted for you.”
Amanda recoiled, remembering how close that vile man had come to her. “So you see,” Hamish went on, “it is I who saved you, and you should be thanking me.”
Amanda’s mouth dropped open, her cheeks flushed, and she gasped. Then she protested, “But the Laird needs my services!”
Hamish’s eyes blazed with fury. “I told you he is not the Laird!” he snapped. “And no healer goes to that usurper while I am alive.”
“What if he dies?” Amanda asked. She had expected a hostile response, but the savagery of it startled her.
“Good!” Hamish barked. “The world will be a much better place without him!” he looked at her with a twisted smile. “Are you shocked? Have you never seen hatred before?” Once more, he thumped his chest. “Well, this is what it looks like.”
His whole body was tense and his hands, one of which held the dagger, were fisted by his sides. It would have been so easy for him to come and run her through, Amanda thought; in fact, she could see the intention in his eyes. She pictured her sisters’ faces as she silently said goodbye to them, determined that they should be the last image they saw before she left the world.
However, she need not have worried, and she was immensely relieved to see Hamish McNeill walk away and enter one of the tents, leaving her alone.
Amanda looked down at her hands. Her wrists were beginning to look chafed by the rough rope, and although the ones around her waist were not so tight, they were still uncomfortable.
She was still standing, although she was not sure how much longer she would be able to do so, since her feet were becoming sore.
Now that the immediate danger had passed, Amanda was furious, and wondered who had known that she was coming to work for the Laird of Inchkeith? Hamish McNeill must have hada spy in the castle, or else her father had let it slip because the news had been kept secret at Struan McNeill’s request.
Amanda gave a great sigh, wondering if she could somehow work her way out of the ropes that bound her, but at that moment she saw a young woman coming towards her carrying a tray. She suddenly realised that she had not eaten for hours and was absolutely ravenous.
The woman was very dark and attractive, with the kind of deep brown eyes that were very unusual in Scotland, but she looked rather sullen. She did not greet Amanda but set the tray on the ground and, taking a bowl from it, began to feed her. Amanda felt slightly embarrassed because she, a grown adult, was being fed like a child.
The food was tasty, although even if it had been dreadful, Amanda would have eaten it because she was so hungry. There was some sort of game bird, turnips and potatoes, accompanied by some weak ale.
The young woman gave her ale to sip, and Amanda, feeling much better after her hunger had been appeased, asked, “What is your name?”
“Fiona,” she replied. “I know yours already.” Her face wore a sullen, unpleasant expression, and she did not meet Amanda’s eyes.
“Do you live here?” Amanda asked.
“Aye,” Fiona replied. “Why dae ye ask? Are ye a spy for the usurper?”
“I am nothing more than what you see before you,” Amanda replied. “A healer. I was sold to the Laird at Inchkeith Castle by my father, so you see, I really don’t want to be here. Do you know the Laird? What is he like?”
This time, Fiona’s expression did change, and she looked up at Amanda with dark eyes that were blazing with rage.
“Ye have met the Laird!” she cried. “His name is Hamish McNeill. The one in the castle stole the rightful Laird’s birthright. If ye want tae help that creature, ye are as bad as he is! He is a disgustin’ man an’ dinnae ye forget it, Sassenach! One day Struan McNeill will get what is comin’ tae him, an’ I hope I am there tae see it.”
With that, she snatched up the eating utensils and marched off in undisguised fury. Amanda watched her until she disappeared into the tent, then sank down onto her knees in the dirt and somehow managed to work herself into a sitting position with her back against the tree. To add to her discomfort, she scratched herself in the process and wondered what else could possibly happen to her that could make her more miserable and afraid.
It was becoming more and more obvious that she had landed in a family feud; a battle between two brothers to see who was the rightful heir to the clan’s name and possessions. Amanda could not care less—all she wanted was to be free.
It was too early in the day to sleep, and with nothing else to do, she decided it was best to observe the activity going on around the camp. Perhaps she might find a way to escape, or at least decide who she must steer clear from and whom to trust.
3
