The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,71
and stripping off her soaked clothes willna be the worst of it.” She swung the gnarled head of her walking stick toward the door. “Go sit with the other men and drink yer drinks until my work is finished. I’ll call ye to her side then.”
He glared at the crone and didn’t twitch from his seat beside Sorcha’s pillow. “Try to move me, old one.”
The healer scowled right back at him. “Men canna stomach what easily women endure. We are the caregivers, the bringers of life, and oftentimes, the companions of death. Hie thee away from yer lady, fool. Time’s a wasting, and she needs my help.” Her squinty-eyed glare slid to Catriona. “Ye best be telling him to be gone. He be yer kin.”
“When a MacCoinnich makes up his mind,” Catriona said quietly, “There’s naught that can change it. If he means to stay with her, then stay he will. No matter what must be done to help her.”
“I mean to stay,” he affirmed as if there were any remaining doubts.
Aderyn shooed his affirmation away as she set aside her staff and moved closer. “Verra well then. When ye faint dead away, ye’ll be left where ye fall. I’ll be callin’ the dogs in here to piss on ye.”
“He willna faint,” Sorcha said, her tone strained with her suffering. “He is my warrior.” With her eyes still closed, she reached for him with her uninjured hand. “Give me yer strength, aye? Hold to me tight whilst we do whatever we must to get through this and get me better.”
He took her hand and squeezed it tight. “Aye, my love. I willna let ye go. I am right here forever.”
Her strength amazed him. This woman was mightier than any man could ever hope to be. Aderyn had spoken the truth. Removing Sorcha’s clothing was not the worst of what she had to endure. When they had shoved her arm back in place, he had swallowed hard and held his breath. His beloved had borne the pain as well as any warrior. Her only response to the agony was silent tears coursing down her face.
The suffering she endured broke his heart in two. There was little they could do for her ribs, and thankfully, the rest of her injuries were nothing worse than bruising that wouldn’t pain her nearly as much after a few days of rest. He had thanked God Almighty when the old one had proclaimed no bleeding inside nor out, and if they had happened to seed a bairn, it remained within her womb.
Catriona handed him a wet cloth. Gently, he daubed it across Sorcha’s brow, wiping away the sheen of sweat that she had earned as Aderyn did what was needed. “It’s over now,” he promised. “Rest and heal, my darling one, rest and heal.”
The old healer gave him an impressed look. “Lady Sorcha chose well when she decided upon ye as her husband.” She fished deep into the cloth bag, knotted on her belt and pulled out an odd-looking root. She held it up and gave him a look that made him pay closer attention. “Mandrake.” She pressed it into his hand and leaned close. “The tiniest sliver, ground into a paste.” She scraped off the barest bit with her yellowed thumbnail. “This much only. Not a dab more, mind ye. Steep it in a cup of water for her and have her drink it with her parritch every morn.” She smiled and tapped the root again. “This will help with the getting of the bairns. I’ve looked at the spirit bones and seen there will be many, but no sense leaving anything to chance.” With a toothless smile, she handed him another bundle. “And mix this in her whisky and her water whilst she’s healing the next few days. As much as she can stomach. ’Twill help her sleep until the pain isna so fierce, ye ken? Fetch me back if she should need me, but I feel ye willna have to do so.”
He studied both the items, wondering if the dirt and fuzziness clinging to the odd-looking root should be cleaned off before steeping or if that merely added to its potency. “I thank ye.”
Aderyn turned to Catriona. “I leave ye now. Remember, fetch me if aught goes wrong.” A tender smile lifted one side of her mouth as she looked down at Sorcha. “That one there is fiercer than a Highland storm. I know she’ll be just fine.”