She glanced back at the men who stood worried over her shoulder. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. She needed to have him moved to his room before the healer came.
“I need him carried. Carefully!” Jane felt her heart pounding so hard in her chest that it blurred her vision. She could not hear nor realize what was happening, her body running around on its own.
Unsure if the guards would carry out her orders correctly, she dashed into Darach's chamber, unconcerned about their surprised expressions. She could nowsee things she couldn't the night before. The chamber was magnificent, with a painting on the wall of Darach holding a sword. The Oriental jars on the mantlepiece were a work of art, and the other exquisite curios looked bright and tasteful.
She rushed toward the bed and grabbed a bedsheet from which she stripped some linens and wadded them into her hand. Running back outside, she let the material unfurl in the morning wind, and with the help of the guards, she quickly positioned and rolled him gently onto it.
Please dinnae die. Dinnae die on us.
She gritted her teeth and focused on the task at hand. He stirred a bit but remained in his position as the men lifted him. A little growl escaped his lips, sending a glimmer of hope through her.
“Ye’re a stubborn one, Darach, and it will push ye through this,” Jane murmured in his ear. “Ye will be winning this battle, and I will be by yer side—I willnae leave ye.”
She had the guards place him carefully on the bed. Jane knew she needed to make him comfortable while also elevating his most injured part to prevent him from losing too much blood. She arranged the blankets and pillows around him in one swift movement, and since room had already become chilly, she worked with the men to add wood to the dying fire.
Thank the gods that she had a little healing knowledge; it was a skill that made her feel useful. For the last few years, she found her way to the healing room in the dungeons quite often while trying to escape all the lies that made her feel uneasy.
Though her father was barely patient with her or trusted her with most things, he had no compunction about seeking her out when one of the close family or guests needed healing. It also wasn’t uncommon for her to stitch a MacThomas warrior after a training mishap or a wee one’s head after taking a tumble while playing whenever the healer was not handy.
The Robertson keep had Blair, a quite capable healer on his own, but Jane couldn’t wait for him to come around. She’d heard tales of the man’s prowess from Lorna, and he’d saved a lot of people, from fatally wounded men to women at childbirth. He would come, she was sure, but until he did, she had to care for Darach. She attempted to staunch the blood with a cloth and then awaited Blair, who rushed right in the same instant.
“Leave off,” he snarled, his hands groping her to unseat her and take her place. “Ye'll aggravate his injury and send him tae hell. Cannae ye see he’s bleeding too much? He had to be more careful while carrying him around.”
Jane stood, irritated by the mean-spirited words to the men who’d helped the laird thus far.
“All of ye! Leave the room.”
The guards hurried out, but Jane stayed behind. When Blair turned to her, she shook her head.
“I'm nae leaving his side. I have knowledge of healing, and I can be yer extra hand.”
The man nodded. “Ye do whatever it is I tell ye.”
Jane pursed her lips, grinding her teeth together. They went to work instantly. She helped him collect his supplies from his bag and arranged them on the table.
Some of Jane's irritation for the healer fell away as she saw his face grow ashen and sweat bead his forehead. His mind was truly in worry for his laird, and that was what had informed his discomfort. There was no use debating with him. She shook her head and then gathered the ends of the sheet in her hands, hauling them over her shoulder.
“Give him strength, God,” she prayed. “We've nae chance of bringing him back on his feet without yer aid.”
“Well, let's hope the gods hear ye and choose tae be merciful,” Blair muttered. “We willnae show mercy when we catch the culprit, though.”
Jane stared at Darach lying unconscious before her, and then her heart swelled with worry. She too would show no mercy to the man who did this. He deserved all the pain that would come his way when he was caught.
“How did ye find him?”
Jane narrated the story, excluding the part where she'd spent the night in the laird's chambers; however, her cheeks filled with embarrassment. She was sure her shame was visible from yards away, not that the healer cared, though.
Jane wondered about the masked man who had attacked Darach. Had he been sent by her father to rescue her? Upon closer thought, he obviously wasn’t a MacThomas. The man had been too sly and had run away at the first sign of trouble. She frowned.Is he another enemy tae the Robertsons?They surely had quite a lot of them. Was the man she saw determined to kill him?
He'd sure looked so.
She decided to ignore her worries and fears while focusing on work as she mixed herbs and mashed leaves, adding just enough water to make a paste following Blair’s instructions. When he was satisfied with the thickness, he thanked her and took the mixture from her hands. Jane laid it aside and set about preparing bandages from an older linen sheet the man handed her.
When everything was in order, she went back to Darach and knelt by his side. He hadn’t regained consciousness since being brought into the room, and his body was particularly warm. For that, she was getting worried. The last thing she needed was for him to sink into a fever.
“I’ll clean the wound,” she mumbled to Blair.
He nodded. “I've seen enough tae believe ye ken what yer doing. I’ll mix more herbs while ye do this.”