Lucas grunted, continuing to work his way through the stack of intelligence. As he set aside each page, Darragh picked them up. He scanned through them once more but didn’t find anything new.
It seemed to Darragh that Laird Mackenzie was keeping his true intentions private. The fact that he was making the visits personally was suspicious. It didn’t look as though he were trying to make friends. He was looking for something.
Or someone.
“I’m nae seein’ anythin’ that we can act on tonight,” Lucas said after he’d finished going through the reports a while later. He set the pages to the side, his eyes lingering on the document at the top.
“Aye,” Darragh agreed as he stood, stretching the stiffness from his joints. “I’ll ensure all of me men ken to look out for the Mackenzie crest tomorrow mornin’. Until we receive the nextround of reports, I’m nae sure there’s much else I can do without bein’ seen as an aggressor.”
“Well, from the outside, it looks as if he’s nae done anythin’,” Lucas said, rising and moving to leave the room, “but I daenae have a good feelin’ about him.”
“I daenae either,” Darragh growled as he stepped into the corridor, locking his study. “We will stop whatever it is that he’s tryin’ to do before he gets a chance to do it.”
And if he’s the one who hurt Amelia, I’ll kill him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Evenin’ report,” Isla said gravely when Amelia opened the door. She stood tall with an authority beyond her years.
I wonder if she’ll always be so serious. Or if I’ll even be around long enough to find out.
She entered the room with solemn professionalism. The small tray she carried was carefully balanced, and her shoulders were pulled back as if she were preparing to address a council. Her movements were smooth, practiced.
“I hope ye danae mind if Isla conducts yer checkup,” Hazel said with an apologetic smile. She took two tentative steps over the threshold. “She insisted.”
Amelia sighed, fidgeting in place. She wasn’t sure if she'd be able to keep herself still long enough for an exam. Giving in to what her body wanted, she began pacing in long, slow circles. She wassure that she looked ridiculous, but it was the only thing that kept her from feeling as if she’d spontaneously explode.
Isla let out a long-suffering sigh, setting the tray down on the nightstand. With her hands on her hips, she marched directly into Amelia’s path. She looked up at Amelia when she came to a stop in front of her. Isla looked years older in that moment, like a mother preparing to scold her unruly child.
“Ye must stay still. Ye’re doin’ yerself nay favors,” she grumbled, reaching out to grab Amelia’s wrists. As Isla led her to the mattress, she said, “I cannae fix ribs that move around like rabbits. Must ye make this more difficult than need be?”
Despite herself, Amelia laughed, sharp and surprised. It gave all three of them pause, Isla and Hazel stopping to look at her, their expressions a mix of shock and amusement. When Isla finally began walking forward again, now with a pleased smile on her face, the tension in Amelia’s chest loosened. While she was still buzzing with realization, she didn’t feel as though she needed to keep moving.
With exaggerated authority, Isla perched Amelia on the edge of the bed. She glanced around the room, then, clicking her tongue with a slight air of disappointment. Her eyes were stuck on the rug, rumpled and a bit out of place from Amelia’s earlier laps.
“If ye keep walkin’ holes in the floor, Mrs. Rowan will charge ye for repairs,” Isla said. It didn’t sound like a joke, either.
Amelia gave her another forced smile as she shifted her clothing. Her fingers shook as they danced across the fabric, and she was sure Isla noticed. Thankfully, the girl was professional enough not to mention it.
Amelia’s ribs were nearly healed, now nothing more than a wine-colored mark. She hardly noticed it when Jinny was washing her or helping her dress. The pain from them had been so negligible to her that she’d nearly forgotten she was still injured.
As Isla dabbed laudanum on a flannel, Amelia studied her deadpan expression. A slight hiss escaped her lips when she felt the cool press of the medicine, the dull ache turning fuzzy almost as quickly as it had started.
Isla worked with her brow furrowed, her tongue pressing against her cheek. Her small fingers were deft, applying the tincture with just the right amount of pressure. Each movement was precise, performed with grave determination.
I may have to leave without givin’ her a proper farewell.
The realization stung worse than the medicine ever had. She’d grown to look forward to this child’s behavior. It was both a comfort in its sureness and a relief when things became too heavy. Even now, the juxtaposition of Isla’s appearance with her behavior made the atmosphere feel lighter.
Each new dab of the cloth revealed a new bruise on her heart. She couldn’t imagine a life with Isla’s officious declarations. Nor could she fathom going to the kitchens and not seeing Nigelland smelling the brightness of fresh lemons or the richness of whatever stew he’d made for the day. This place had given her a steady rhythm, and against her will, she’d begun to feel safe here.
It wouldnae be like this if I had a choice in the matter.
Isla moved to the other side of Amelia’s body, performing her work just as efficiently. When she was done, she stepped back, surveying Amelia’s ribs. Her lips moved with whispered observations, then, with a satisfied nod, she said, “Ye’re healin’ well.”
“Aye,” Amelia said, her lips wobbling as she gave Isla a grateful smile. She blinked several times in an attempt to clear away the emotion threatening to express itself. “I suppose I am.”
“It willnae take ye much longer to be fully healed,” Hazel said from the doorway, her tone reassuring. “Ye just need plenty of rest. Perhaps a wee bit of light movement.”
