“No dizziness?” the healer asked.
“Nay.”
“Cold hands?”
“Only when me husband opens the windows before dawn. He thinks fresh air is a necessity.”
“It is,” Connor stated.
The healer hid a smile as she pressed two fingers against Violet’s wrist again. “Yer strength has returned as well,” she said. “The poison had completely left yer system, and I find no sign of the sickness ye suffered years ago.”
Violet looked down at her hands. They were warm where they rested in her lap. “No sign now?”
“No sign atall.”
Connor unfolded his arms. “And no reason to expect it?”
“None that I can see, me Laird.”
He nodded once with the concentration he normally reserved for clan matters.
Violet drew in a breath. “Could it still return one day?”
Connor did not answer for her. He remained beside the fireplace, one hand closed around the back of a chair.
“Any person may become ill,” the healer replied. “I cannae promise ye every year ahead. I can tell ye that yer body is healthy now. Yer old sickness has shown no sign of returning, and there is no cause for us to think it will.”
Violet looked at John. He had caught the edge of Moira’s shawl and was pulling it toward his mouth.
“Healthy now,” she repeated.
“Aye,” the healer confirmed. “And expected to remain so.”
Connor moved closer and Violet placed her hand over his, where it gripped the chair. His fingers flexed beneath hers.
When the healer closed her bag, Connor handed her a heavy purse.
She weighed it in her palm. “This is far too much, me Laird.”
“Nay.”
“Me Laird, this could pay for half a year’s work.”
“Then consider the other half paid in advance.”
“Connor,” Violet said.
He looked at her. “What?”
“She examined us. She didnae rebuild the castle.”
“Good news deserves good coin.”
The healer returned one coin to him. “Then this should prevent ye from claiming ye paid exactly what ye intended.”
She left before Connor could object.
Moira held John closer, smoothing his blanket twice. A sheen of moisture brightened her eyes when Violet touched her arm.
