Heather placed a firm hand on her shoulder and eased her down on the chair. “At the moment, I am simply a friend.” Heather did not give her a chance to say anymore on the matter. She asked, “When is the babe due?”
Bea smiled and caressed her stomach. “As winter falls upon us.” She looked over at her sleeping husband, her smile fading. “Tell me he willbe here to see our babe born.” She turned back around, tears pooling in her eyes.
Heather reached out and rested her hand on Bea’s. “I cannot say whether your husband will live or die. I can tell you with care and rest, he has a good chance. And he fights to live, another good sign. I will keep a close watch on him and do what I can to help him.”
“That is kind of you, my lady, and I am ever so grateful to you for your generosity.”
A moan from the bed drew their attention and Heather reached Douglas before his wife. One touch of his brow confirmed a fever had set in and she was unable to hide her concern.
Tears started rolling down Bea’s cheeks after caressing her husband’s brow and seeing the worry in Heather’s eyes. “Few survive fevers after suffering a bad wound.”
“But there are those that do,” Heather said. “Now let’s get this blanket off him and a cool cloth on his brow.”
A soft rap at the door had Bea going to it and opening it to find two women there, offering their help. They obviously were friends since they hugged Bea and tears filled all their eyes.
Heather was so pleased they were there, worried that it would be too much for Bea to handle once she took her leave, having to be at the keep by nightfall. After explaining to the women what needed to be done and making Bea promise to sendfor her if a problem should arise, Heather bid them good day.
She was no more than a few steps out of the cottage when an old woman approached her and she wondered if perhaps she was a McComb and could tell her about the changes that had taken place here.
“My lady,” the woman said with a bob of her head. “I wanted to thank you for what you did for my nephew. Several warriors told me how you remained with Oran while he lay dying with no thought to your own safety.” Tears clouded her eyes. “You do not know how grateful I am that Oran did not lay there on the battlefield dying alone. You are not only brave, but so very kind.”
“He held tight to my hand and passed without great pain,” Heather said tears filling her eyes. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
“He had an honorable soul and was so very proud of being one of the Dark Dragon’s warriors. He was all I had and I will miss him greatly.”
Heather reached out and hugged the woman and when she stepped away from her, she saw the surprised look on the old woman’s face. She often forgot that a chieftain’s daughter or wife did not hug those beneath them, but Heather never thought that anyone was beneath her. It did not matter what station in life one held. Everyone hurt, bled, or suffered in some way. People were more alike than different, though few saw it that way.
“You are a very special woman, my lady,” the older woman said. “I can see by your torngarment that you gave much of yourself to help the injured. I am glad the Dragon chose you for his wife. You will be good for him.” She bobbed her head once again and walked away.
Heather had been so engrossed in making sure all the injured had been seen to that she had forgotten about her appearance. Disheveled and her garment torn, was not the way for her to be introduced to Rhys’ people. She hurried along anxious to make herself presentable. She took only a few steps when she was stopped once again.
“Forgive me, my lady, for disturbing you, but I fear my husband’s wound has worsened and I hear that the wounds you tended are doing well.”
The woman was taller than Heather and thick in body, though it was a firm thickness. Her brown hair was sprinkled with gray, though her round face held few age lines. Her dark eyes held a note of worry and she gripped her hands anxiously.
“Let me have a look, and I will see what can be done to help him.”
“Thank you, my lady. I am Belle and my husband is Henry. He can be a surly and stubborn one. He let one of the warriors tend his leg, no doubt thinking they knew more than you, not that they do not know how to tend a wound. Most have learned out of necessity. But I hear you have a tender and kind touch that helps heal well.”
“It is my sister Emma I owe my knowledge of healing to,” Heather said as she walked alongside the woman.
Belle shook her head. “I think not. Your mum had the healing touch, God rest her kind soul. You are much like her.”
Heather almost stumbled over her own feet, she got so excited. “You knew my mum?”
Belle nodded. “Lady Enis saved my life. I am my mum’s only child, she being older than most women when she had me. It was not an easy birth. I gave no cry when I was born, and my mum told me that her heart broke at the deafening silence. But Lady Enis worked her healing touch on me and suddenly I was crying as loud as a banshee.” Belle laughed. “And as my mum liked to remind me, I never stopped.”
Heather had no time to respond, having reached Belle’s cottage. There were questions she wished to ask Belle, to talk with her mum if possible, and to find out about the changes here, but that would have to wait.
“I warned you, woman,” came the gruff shout when Belle entered the cottage and announced Lady Heather’s presence. “There is no reason to be bothering Lady Heather. I am fine.”
“Then you will not mind if I have a look so that I may see what a fine job your warriors have done in tending you,” Heather said with a smile, though she could see from the soiled bandage on his leg that the wound was far from fine.
“It’s a scratch, nothing more,” Henry insisted.
He was a sizeable man, thick in body like his wife, though age lines clung to the corners of his eyes and his hair was more gray than brown. And where his wife kept a smile on her face, he wore a frown, except when he looked at his wife. His whole face softened even when he spoke gruffly to her.
“Then it will be a quick glance I take,” Heather assured him.
