Chapter Eleven
Shortly thereafter, AilisMcAfee hurried to the cottage where Doirin, a feverish widow who had just given birth to her first child, struggled for life.
Lachlan had followed her from the keep. He stood vigil outside the cottage door, following Ailis with concerns beyond duty.
Inside the dimly lit cottage, Ailis prepared poultices for the fevered Doirin. The baby, close to the hearth, cried softly as Ailis hummed a generations-old lullaby—a soothing balm for both mother and child.
As soon as the mother was seen to, she picked up the bairn and held him close, making certain he was clean, before trying to hand him to his mother to feed.
Doirin was too feverish to understand what was happening, so Ailis put the babe at her breast.
Ailis stuck her head out the door. “I need cold water from the well. She is burning with her fever, and I must bring it down.”
“Ye shouldna be here, lass,” Lachlan scolded, warmth in his gruff voice. “I cannae leave ye unprotected.” He called to a passing soldier. “I need ye to bring me cold water!”
The man nodded and hurried off to do what he’d been told.
Ailis shook her head. “Ye could have left long enough for ye to get cold water.”
“I’m not certain of that. I worry about ye when I’m not there beside ye.”
She started to ask him why he hadn’t had her followed while she was with Cameron, but she needed to give her attention to Doirin. She turned and moved back to the bed where the bairn was suckling noisily.
While he nursed, she hurried about the cottage, cleaning what she could. She always felt that a person would get better when they were in clean surroundings. Her grandmother had taught her that a woman would worry if their house was dirty, and it would take their energy from healing.
Finally, the soldier returned with the water. She put half on the stove to boil before taking the now-sleeping babe from his mother and putting him in the cradle by the hearth. There he would keep warm, and sleep while she cared for his mother.
She took the remainder of the water and moved to Doirin, rubbing a cloth with cold water over the woman’s face and then her arms. She pulled her nightdress up and washed her legs, which still had blood on them. The midwife had obviously failed to clean this mother properly after she gave birth.
When she’d finished, she went back to the door where Lachlan waited. “Please get word to me family that I will be staying here for some days to come. She needs help, not only to break her fever but with the bairn.”
“I will find someone to carry the message,” he declared. “I’m not leaving ye here alone.”
“Lachlan, yer concern is appreciated but unwarranted,” Ailis replied without glancing up. “Doirin and the babe are me patients now, and I will care for them. Nothing bad has ever happened to me while I cared for the sick.”
“Those duties can wait,” Lachlan insisted. “The safety of a laird’s daughter—and a healer at that—is not something I take lightly.”
Ailis admired his stubborn loyalty despite its conflict with her independence. Clans’ expectations hovered over them likeever-present mist. Nevertheless, she served life within these walls.
“Very well,” she conceded with an exhausted smile. “But rest assured, Lachlan, I am far from helpless. Please see to it that me father is told where I am.”
Lachlan nodded and settled into his post. He remained vigilant outside while inside Ailis ministered to Doirin. He had soldiers bring fresh meat, and she took him a meal every time she ate herself. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to be, but he was thankful for the freedom to watch over her.
At dawn, Ailis tended to the hearth, warming the chilly cottage and preparing a simple broth for Doirin’s recovery. On the fourth day, her fever began to subside under Ailis’s care.
In the afternoon, Ailis sat by Doirin’s side, weaving a tale of a fiery-haired lass conversing with stars, seeking their ancient secrets. Doirin found solace in these stories, craving comfort rather than grandeur.
Ailis knew that comforting Doirin’s mind was as important as caring for her and her child. It was something she’d learned from her grandmother as a lass. She must make certain the spirits of the ill were taken care of before they could make a recovery.
Lachlan stood watch outside, prepared to protect the people inside from anything that happened. Ailis couldn’t help but be grateful for his sacrifice and the hours and hours he spent guarding her.
While Ailis told her story, he listened to every word, smiling at times. She was a wonderful storyteller, and he loved to listen to her.
Ailis’s story traversed enchanted forests and towering peaks, soothing the weary soul before her. In this realm, she melded her healer’s touch and bard’s tongue.
As evening approached, Ailis concluded her tale about the lass becoming one with the night sky.
*
