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Chapter Twenty
Blair
“There are several plants that can be used as both poisons and remedies. Do ye know what they are, Blair?”
Blair was finding it hard to focus on her studies. The meeting with the Cambels had not gone well, and she felt both worried and conflicted about it all. Laird MacBean had looked positively horrid during the whole affair, and she wondered vaguely if she should have stayed with him or prepared him an herbal tea. Surely, arguing with Aindreas over marriage alliances wasn’t good for his health.
And Aindreas’s reaction to his father’s decision on the matter only made Blair feel worse. Obviously, the laird’s son didn’t care for her. He only wanted her physical body and nothing that laid below the surface. Their time together had meant nothing to him. She needed to get that into her head.
Yet, no matter how much she told herself to stop thinking of the laird’s son, she couldn’t help but worry about him. Aindreas seemed so angry and hurt by his father’s decisions. His father had his best interests at heart. She wished Aindreas could see that, yet all he saw was a horrid, old man.
She didn’t understand why. The laird was kind. He had taken her in, given her a home. His people adored him, which she could see by the respect the village speakers had given him in the great hall and how the servants regarded him. What did Aindreas see that she did not?
“Blair?”
She flinched, realizing Tavis had asked her a question, but she couldn’t remember what. Her brow furrowed as she cursed herself for being so easily distracted. “Apologies, Tavis. Once more?”
Tavis’s eyes narrowed, and he snapped his book shut, making her jump in her chair. “Are ye alright, lass? Have the fairies snatched yer mind?”
Blair grimaced. “Nae, Tavis. ‘Tis not the fairies.”
Tavis pursed his lips while leaning against his desk, covered in jars filled with herbs and tattered lavender petals. “Then what is it, lass?”
Blair opened her mouth, not knowing exactly what to say. She couldn’t speak ill of the laird’s son, nor could she speak of the kiss she shared with him. Thinking about his lips against hers made her face flush and her core twist with desire.
Tavis’s head tilted to the side, and he crossed his arms. “Well, Blair?”
Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door. Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, thanking the lord above for small mercies. At the same time, Tavis tossed his head back, scowling at the ceiling as he released a sigh of frustration.
“Curses,” he muttered to himself before striding towards the door. He waggled a finger in her direction, making her quickly cover her mouth to hide her smile. “Don’t think ye’ve gotten lucky, lass,” he warned teasingly. “Ye will tell me who and what snatched yer mind away after I deal with this wee annoyance.”
Tavis threw open the door, leveling his scowl on the soldier standing on the other side, his face grave. Blair slowly stood, clasping her hands in front of her while she watched the soldier. Something foul twisted within her, chilling her insides and making her flesh go cold. Something was wrong.
Had something happened to Laird MacBean?
Blair clenched her jaw as she imagined the laird falling, finally giving in to the coughing, the illness taking hold of him. She felt a shudder run down her spine and quickly pushed those thoughts away. Perhaps it wasn’t the laird, she told herself. There were many servants and soldiers residing within the castle who probably had need of Tavis.
It was hopefully nothing.
The soldier’s gaze met hers over Tavis’s shoulders. “Apologies, sir,” he said shakily, “but may I speak with ye in private.”
Tavis glanced over his shoulder, a deep frown marring his usually cheerful face as he looked at Blair. “Ye may speak frankly.”
“But the lass—“
“Is my apprentice,” Tavis finished for him. “Whatever ye may say to me, she will hear eventually. It’s good for the future healer of Castle Lachlan to be informed of the goings-on, no matter how foul the nature.”
The soldier fidgeted in front of Tavis, and Blair worried whatever it may be, it was dire. She strode towards Tavis, standing at his side while watching the soldier. “I can go and return,” she offered while glancing between the men.
“Nae, lass,” said Tavis gravely, “ye will be a healer sooner rather than later. ‘Tis better ye hear now whatever the lad has to say.” He scowled at the soldier. “Speak, for I haven’t got all day.”
“‘Tis the laird, sir,” he rushed out, his gaze lowering to the floor. “He is-has passed.”
Blair's legs wobbled beneath her. She felt all her breath leave her in one rush, and she didn’t know if she was going to faint or vomit. Tavis grabbed her arm, steadying her at his side and providing her with the little support she needed to remain upright.
“The young laird has called for ye to look upon him to ensure his soul no longer haunts his body.”
Tavis nodded curtly. “Of course.” His voice lacked all emotion. He turned towards Blair, his gaze softening on her. “Are ye ready, lass?”
