Page 36 of Glasgow Rogue

The physician arrived shortly after the crone left.

“I got here as soon as I could, my lady,” he said as he was ushered into the parlor where Jillian and Annie were finishing a tray of sandwiches since they’d missed the noon meal.

“It took a bit longer than I expected since I could not use my regular carriage on the steep hills and my horse was not used to climbing such.”

Annie could sympathize with the horse, although from the doctor’s rather shaky voice she wondered if he might have been the one more concerned with the steep hills. Not that she blamed him. She recalled all too vividly looking out the window to the sheer drop of the ravine below.

Jillian nodded. “The road is difficult.”

“I hope his lordship will understand.”

“I am sure he will,” she answered. “At the moment, he is not here, but he should return soon. Meanwhile, let me take you to our patient.”

Annie followed them upstairs. Mrs. Cameron, the middle-aged housekeeper, rose from the chair near the bed as they entered the room.

“Mr. MacDonald has been sleeping quietly. I think the fever may have broken.”

“Thank God!” Annie said as she rushed over to lay the back of her hand on Niall’s forehead. “I think ye are right.”

“Hmph. I will be the judge of that,” the doctor said as he walked toward them and moved the sheet back. His brows drew together. “Someone has already tended the wound?”

“Yes, we have a healing woman who lives nearby,” Jillian said. “An old lady who keeps a herbal garden in the forest. She applied a poultice.”

Annie gave Jillian a curious glance. Was that all the Crone of the Hills was?

An old lady with a herbal garden? Could the change in appearance that Annie thought she saw, along with mist that didn’t exist, been a result of those herbs put in the water?

Jillian had acknowledged that she’d seen steam rise momentarily, but that was all.

“Hmph,” the doctor said again.

“We were not sure if you would be able to get here today, since it is treacherous going,” Jillian added. “Mr. MacDonald was in serious condition. Ian thought it not wise to wait when we had a healer close.”

The physician looked like he wanted to argue the point, but he nodded, evidently realizing that disagreeing with a laird’s viewpoint was not prudent. “Of course, Mr. MacLeod made the right decision.”

A short time later, after the doctor grudgingly admitted there was nothing more he could do, they descended the steps to find Ian had just returned.

“I believe your guest is on the mend, your lordship,” the physician said.

“’Tis good to hear,” Ian replied. “And I thank ye for coming so quickly.”

The doctor smiled. “Think nothing of it. I am most happy to attend to his lordship and lady anytime.”

As Ian walked the man to his horse, Annie turned to Jillian. “I was nae aware that your husband should be addressed as ‘his lordship.’ I am sorry to have blundered.”

Jillian shook her head. “You did not make a mistake. Actually, Ian hates being called that.”

Annie raised an eyebrow. “Then why does he nae stop it?”

“Well, the physician was trained in London, and there it is customary to address the aristocracy as such.”

“Aye. I ken that.” Annie felt confused. “But your husband is a Scottish laird.”

Jillian nodded. “True, but he is also an English earl.”

“What? An earl?”

“The Earl of Cantford, to be exact,” Jillian replied. “His great-grandfather fought with King George and was rewarded with a title and land in England which bordered my own. That is how I met him.”

“Your land? Ye mean ye hold the title to it?” Annie asked. “I dinnae think women could do so, although I definitely think we should be able to.”

“Well, these were special circumstances and not pleasant.” Jillian’s expression darkened as though she were remembering. “The marquis’ nephew, who would have been the heir, was…” She hesitated, her breath hitching. “…mentally unfit. I was awarded the title.”

Annie blinked. “Then ye are a marchioness? In your own right?”

“Yes.”

“Then… Excuse my asking, but why are ye here? In Scotland, I mean?”

“I fell in love with the Highlands when Ian brought me here.” Jillian smiled. “Besides, can you see my husband acting the part of an English gentleman?”

No, Annie clearly could not grasp that image. Ian MacLeod looked more like he belonged on a horse, leading a wild charge down a hill, waving a sword and sounding a battle cry. She smiled too. “So ye have an overseer tending the land?”

“Ian’s brother Jamie, who does not care much more for English life than Ian does.” Jillian’s smile broadened. “But he is more or less stuck since my sister Mari is his wife and she prefers England.”

“He must love her verra much to make such a sacrifice.”

Jillian nodded. “They are crazy about each other, although you might not know it, given that they argue at the drop of a hat.”

Annie felt a little nudge of guilt. She and Niall did much the same. Not that arguing signified caring.

“Neither of them likes admitting they are wrong either,” Jillian added.

That sounded like her and Niall too. While stubbornness probably wasn’t a great trait, it was still nice to know other women didn’t back down either. And—even better—given the right circumstances, a woman could own land. In her own right.

Hopefully, Jillian would be willing to explain how that had come about, at some time. It was information Annie could use when it was safe to return to Glasgow.

Meanwhile, the priority right now was to get Niall well.

****

Niall opened his eyes slowly, letting his sight get accustomed to the dim light of the room.

He became aware that he was lying in a very soft bed of feathers, covered in a crisp sheet that smelled of fresh air and sunshine.

Niall felt no pain. The last thing he remembered was the anguish of something akin to a red-hot knife searing through his leg.

Was he dead? He faintly recalled a female voice singing softly to him and looked up, half-expecting to see a ceiling fresco of angels.

Instead, he saw high timber beams and walls of stone. An earthly room, then.

A warm fire blazed in the hearth across from the bed.

Dark blue velvet drapes were closed against a window that was probably also shuttered to keep the cool air out.

A small table and chair stood near the window.

On the opposite wall, a tapestry depicting a hunting scene hung over a solidly built dresser.

Earthly things. No sign of an angel who had sung to him.

A creak in the far corner caught his attention. He turned as a middle-aged lady rose from a rocking chair. Had she sung to him, willing him to live? She didn’t look like an angel, but then, what did he know about angels? He only knew that melodic voice had kept him clinging to life.

“Ye are finally awake!” The woman came closer. “’Tis glad Ian and Jillian will be to hear of it.”

Ian. Reality returned to Niall with a jolt. He had been taking Annie Ferguson to safety at Arisaig, but his stab wound had forced him to change his plans. “I am at the MacLeod holding, then?”

“Aye. I am Mrs. Cameron, the housekeeper. Ye arrived two days ago.”

“Two days! I have been unconscious for two days?” Niall struggled to sit. “Did a young lady come with me? She has red hair—”

“Rest easy, lad,” Mrs. Cameron said as she provided a strong hand to help position him against the headboard. “If ’tis Annie ye are asking about, she is here, safe and sound.”

Niall breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I was escorting her—”

“Nae need to explain. Save your strength.” The housekeeper straightened. “I’ll go down to get ye some broth.”

“I appreciate that, but can ye bring something I can set my teeth into?” Niall asked. “I feel as though I haven’t eaten in weeks.”

“Broth is what ye need,” Mrs. Cameron said in a tone that brooked no argument. “’Tis the best thing to start with. Ye doona want your stomach rebelling, since it’s been without food.”

Niall gave her a smile that he used to use on his mother to wheedle another fruit scone when he was a child. “But I am hungry.”

“A good sign.” Mrs Cameron paused and then relented. “All right. I’ll put a wee piece of bread on the tray as well.” She moved to the door. “Would ye like me to send Annie up? Jillian insisted she have a bit of rest since she’s hardly left this room, but ’twas an hour ago.”

“Doona disturb her, then,” Niall said. “But if nae too much trouble, I would like some hot water to clean up with.”

The housekeeper nodded. “I’ll have some lads fetch it straightaway.”

After she left, Niall pushed back the cover and swung his legs over the bed.

The injured thigh had a clean bandage wrapped around it and the swelling had gone down.

Whoever the healer was, she had done a good job.

He stood slowly, hating that he felt wobbly as a newborn foal.

A slight wave of dizziness washed over him, but that was probably from hunger.

He forced himself to move, willing his strength to return with each step.

By the time Mrs. Cameron reappeared with the food, he had made it to the table and chair.

“Do ye think ye should be sitting up so soon?” she asked as she put the tray down.

“Aye. Lyin’ abed does nae help,” Niall answered.

“And breakin’ your skull open because ye are too weak to stand does nae help either.” The housekeeper tilted her head to one side to study him. “But I suppose I might as well be talking to the wind.”

“I am sure your broth will give me enough strength nae to fall on my face.” Niall gave her another smile. “It smells delicious.”

She colored slightly. “I had the cook put in a few extra herbs.”

“I appreciate that,” Niall answered. “It should hit the spot, then.”

“Aye, well. ’Tis nae much.” Mrs. Cameron sounded a bit flustered. “I’ll just go and find out what is keeping the lads with your hot water.”