Page 20 of The Laird’s Vengeful Desire (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“ H old still, lass. This might sting a wee bit.”

Rhona delicately cleaned the angry red welt on the blacksmith’s daughter’s palm, her movements sure and practiced despite the girl’s nervous fidgeting.

The small cottage smelled of herbs and woodsmoke, with morning light streaming in through a single window to illuminate her work.

Outside, she could hear the steady ring of hammer on anvil as Roderick MacBride continued his trade.

“There now, Kenna,” Rhona murmured, applying a poultice of comfrey and yarrow to the wound. “That’s the worst of it. This’ll draw out any infection and help it heal proper.”

Baird watched from across the small room, his weathered face creased with approval. “Aye. Exactly what I would have done. Though I wouldnae have been near so tender about it.”

“Gentleness costs naethin’.” Rhona replied, skillfully wrapping the girl’s hand with clean linen strips. “And it makes the healin’ go smoother fer everyone.”

The older healer nodded thoughtfully. “Ye have a real gift fer this work, lass. ‘Tis more than just kennin’ which herbs tae use – ye have the kind of touch that makes folk trust ye.”

“Thank ye,” she said, securing the bandage with practiced efficiency. “I appreciate the compliment more than ye ken.”

Young Kenna flexed her fingers experimentally, then smiled up at Rhona with the uncomplicated gratitude of a child. “It feels much better already. Will ye come back tae check on it?”

“If I can.” Rhona promised with a soft smile, though the words carried a bitter edge.

Why did he agree tae let me come?

She wondered it, not for the first time that day. The contradiction puzzled her – Ian the captor versus Ian the man who seemed genuinely concerned for her wellbeing.

Still, it was only the second time since her capture she’d been beyond the castle walls, and unlike her previous outing to the waterfall, today had purpose beyond mere respite.

The simple pleasure of breathing free air while doing meaningful work, of seeing new faces and helping people who needed her skills, had been utterly intoxicating.

Even under guard, even knowing she was still a prisoner, she felt more alive than she had been since her capture.

“Right then,” Baird said, packing his supplies back into his worn leather satchel. “We’ve still got old Dougal’s rheumatism tae see tae, and young Morag’s expectin’ her first bairn any day now.”

They spent the rest of the morning making their rounds – checking on the village’s sick and injured, dispensing remedies and advice with the comfortable authority of long-standing practice.

Rhona felt herself drawn to the work with an enthusiasm that surprised her.

There, finally, was something she could do well, something that mattered beyond politics and clan alliances.

By the time they returned to the castle the sun was setting, and Rhona felt more centered than she had in weeks. Even the guards had relaxed their vigilance as the day progressed, clearly seeing that she had no intention of fleeing when there was meaningful work to be done.

“Thank ye fer invitin’ me today,” she told Baird as they dismounted in the castle courtyard. “I hadnae realized how much I missed it.”

“Missed what?”

“Bein’ useful.”

“Ye’re more than useful, lass. Ye’re gifted.” Baird shouldered his satchel, studying her with those keen eyes that seemed to see more than most. “I’d be glad tae have ye as a proper apprentice, if things work out.”

If things work out.

Always the qualifier, always the reminder that her life was not her own to choose.

As they parted ways in the castle’s main hall, Rhona found herself hesitating.

They day had been good – wonderful, actually – though her mind had kept drifting back to Ian despite her best efforts to focus on her work.

Now the familiar weight of her situation was settling back onto her shoulder like a heavy cloak.

The long hours until morning stretched ahead of her, filled with the kind of restless thoughts that had been plaguing her since her arrival.

“Baird,” she called quietly, catching the healer before he could disappear into depths of the castle. “Might ye have somethin’ fer sleepin’? I’ve been havin’ some trouble lately.”

The old man’s eyes sharpened with professional interest. “What manner of difficulties?”

Heat rose in Rhona’s cheeks as she quickly manufactured a lie. “Women’s troubles. Ye ken how it can be – everything’ feels… unsettled.”

Baird studied her for a long moment, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see straight through her deception. But all he said was, “Aye, I’ve got somethin’ mild that should help. Though, if yer troubles persist–”

“I’m sure ‘tis just temporary,” Rhona quipped. “Just until things settle.”

“Of course.” Baird’s tone was carefully neutral. “I’ll send somethin’ up with Moira fer ye.”

Ian looked up from the correspondence scattered across his desk as Baird knocked on the solar door. The healer entered at his call, his weathered face thoughtful in the flickering candlelight.

“How did she dae today?” He asked without preamble, setting down his quill and giving the older man his full attention.

“Better than I expected,” Baird admitted, settling into the chair across from Ian’s desk with the careful movements of a man whose joints reminded him daily of his advancing years. “She has a true gift fer the healin’ arts.”

Ian felt something warm uncurl in his chest at the praise. “She was helpful then?”

“Helpful?” Baird chuckled, shaking his gray head. “Lad, she was more skilled than some healers I’ve trained fer years. Gentle hands, sure knowledge, and the sort of instinct ye cannae teach.”

“Did she try tae run?” Ian asked bluntly, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

“Nay. Nae once.” Baird leaned forward, his expression growing more serious. “But there’s somethin’ else ye should ken. I think the lass is havin’ trouble sleepin’.”

Ian’s attention sharpened. “How dae ye mean?”

“She asked me fer a sleepin’ draught.” Baird paused, choosing his words carefully. “Said it was women’s troubles, but–”

“But ye dinnae believe her.”

“I’ve been tendin’ folks fer near forty years, lad. I ken the difference between monthly troubles and the kind that comes from carryin’ burdens that are too heavy.” Baird’s eyes met Ian’s steadily. “Whatever’s keepin’ her awake, it isnae her body that’s the problem.”

Ian felt his jaw clench as understanding settled like a boulder in his stomach. “Thank ye fer tellin’ me,” Ian said quietly. “I’ll… look intae it.”

Baird nodded and rose to leave, then paused at the door. “She’s a good lass, Ian. Whatever else may come of all this political maneuverin’ the Council has ye daein’, dinnae forget that she’s a person first.”

“Ye’ve been rather generous with yer praise of her, Baird.” Ian observed.

Baird’s weathered face creased in what might have been a rueful smile. “Aye, well…” He shifted uncomfortably. “The lass has been through hell, Ian. A kind word costs naething, and she clearly needs tae feel useful and appreciated again.”

“And?”

The healer sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“And I’m nae gettin’ any younger, laddie.

Me hands shake more with each winter that passes and me eyes grow dim.

I need someone I can train properly, someone with a real instinct fer these things.

” His voice grew quietly urgent. “She could be that person. If she stays. If she… settles.”

Ian studied the healer’s face, seeing his own conflict reflected there – genuine compassion warring with practical necessity. “So yer kindness serves two purposes.”

“Aye.” Baird admitted without shame. “I pity her circumstances, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didnae hope she might find a reason tae make this her home. She could save lives here, Ian.”

After the healer left, Ian sat alone in his solar, staring at the papers before him without really seeing them.

His mind was filled instead with images of Rhona as she’d been that morning – eager to help, grateful for the chance to do something meaningful, and more animated than he’d seen her.

And underneath it all, was the shadow of whatever demons haunted her sleep.

What have we done tae her?

The question echoed in his mind as he made his way through the castle corridors toward Rhona’s chamber an hour later. He found the guards at their usual posts outside her door, alert but relaxed.

“Has she been quiet tonight?” he asked Ewan.

“Aye, me laird. Nay sound since she dismissed young Moira an hour past.”

Ian stepped forward and softly knocked on the door. “Rhona? ‘Tis Ian. May I come in?”

A pause, then, “Aye.”

He found her sitting by the window, still fully dressed despite the late hour. The sleeping draught Baird had provided sat untouched on the small table beside her bed.

“How was yer day?” Ian asked, settling onto the chair across from her.

“Good,” she said simply, though something in her voice suggested surprise at the admission. “Better than I expected.”

“Baird speaks highly of ye.”

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “He’s a good teacher, and an even better healer. He’s patient with questions, willin’ tae share what he kens…” she paused, then added more quietly, “It felt good tae be useful again. Tae help, instead of just… existin’.”

The pain in those last words made Ian’s chest tighten. “Ye ken ye’re more than that, Rhona.”

“Am I?” she looked at him directly for the first time since he’d entered. “Some days I feel like a ghost in these damned walls.”

“I owe ye an apology,” Ian said carefully. “Fer yesterday. Fer what me Council said, and fer me part in it.”

“Dae ye?” she turned back toward the window, her profile etched in moonlight. “Which part are ye apologizin’ fer, exactly?”

“All of it. They had nae right tae speak tae ye that way, and I should have stopped them immediately.”

“Aye,” she said simply. “Ye should have.”