Claimed by a Scottish Lord (17 page)

Mrs. Duff supplied her with a pot to boil water in the hearth to make a decoction from elm leaves and bark to cleanse the wound, and an infusion from other herbs to ingest for strength. Rose praised the cook‘s strawberry tarts as the most wondrous ever and sent down a recipe for the strawberry pie that had been Sister Nessa‘s favorite. Soon the elderly housekeeper and cook were keeping time with her and bringing Rose various garments and apparel, much that needed altering, but a job that Rose did not mind doing.

While Mrs. Duff sat with her, she chatted about how this wing of the house had been built on the foundation of a castle destroyed after the Battle of Stirling Bridge in the thirteenth century, and Rose learned that some of the old corridors were still in use as servants‘

passageways. All meals were brought up to the floor from the kitchen this way. No detail of Mrs. Duff‘s conversations went unnoticed, including the fact that his lordship‘s chambers were somewhere in this wing.

With her collection of scissors, needles, thread, and cloth, Rose lay in bed at night and worked on sewing special pockets into her clothes and making a knapsack that she would pack with food and other supplies she was collecting for her eventual departure. Already by the week‘s end, she had collected silver from the food trays delivered to her. A spoon missing hither and thither could be overlooked in the short term, at least until an accounting of the silverware was taken.

Overall, Rose managed to be a model hostage, seemingly too injured to be a threat. It was not a lie that her wound pained her, but she was not crippled and, with some effort, during her first few days at Stonehaven she was able to shove one of the dressers in her bathing chamber below the high window. If she set a chair atop the dresser‘s surface, she could reach the window‘s sill chest high, and using a supper knife, she slipped the blade in the crack to unhinge the lock without breaking the glass. The window opened onto a ledge.

That first morning couldn‘t have been more glorious to her eyes as Rose looked out over the ledge down a beautiful trellis entwined with green and vines and into an empty courtyard, then beyond the peaceful setting to a reflecting pool.

Her breath had caught when she had glimpsed Julia Kerr.

Rose had not let herself think about the woman she had met her first night at Stonehaven. But every morning for the past five days, Rose had seen her by the reflecting pool.

She sat at a table that had been set up on the grass. She ate alone and
looked
alone. And every morning for the past five days, Rose had watched her.

Friar Tucker had once told Rose she was possessed of a soft heart—malleable, as he had called it—easily shaped by the events of a day. She was always trying to mend broken wings on birds only to watch the creatures give up their will to fight, or survive only to be snatched from the air by a hawk. She had befriended an aged shopkeeper in Castleton because her son, Geddes, was heartless and didn‘t deserve her. She had tried to mend a little boy‘s heart after his mother died, only to leave him. Even if it was not her fault, she was still gone. Julia looked in need of mending.

But Rose could do nothing for it, she thought. Friar Tucker had warned her she could not fix the ails of the world, and every time she tried, he had proven her right. She had the power to change nothing. The only hope she‘d had went the way of her wishing ring. Gone.

Pulling the window shut, she eased her way off the chair to the dresser, wincing as she lowered herself to the ground. She pulled the chair off the dresser without ripping her dress. It was a serviceable green plaid skirt with a yellow bodice that must have once belonged to a tall, skinny waif, evident by the amount of altering Rose had done last night to cover her bosom more fully.

But Mrs. Duff had brought her this ensemble to add to the other odd assortment of attire in her armoire. To complete the outfit with her plaited hair, Rose had thought with some amusement that morning, all she needed was a shepherd‘s staff and a lamb in her arms.

She wasn‘t amused now as someone knocked on her chamber door. She walked into her room just as a wizardly old man popped his head around the edge of the door, saw that she was decently attired, then entered. He carried a brown surgeon‘s box made of oak and pine in one hand and one of the lists she had sent to the kitchen in the other.

―Marigolds aren‘t in bloom yet,‖ he said, ―and I tossed away the moldy batch we had. We‘ve no wild yam. Though it grows in the hills around the loch. Witch hazel we have but no‘

mallow root. But the eggs and honey . ‖

― ‘Tis a rich drink to thicken the blood and hasten healing.‖

―No wonder ye have caused such an uproar in the kitchen with your menus and wild concoctions.‖ He peered at her with interest. ―You are a healer.‖

Rose dusted off her hands as he approached. ―I didn‘t get a chance to meet you when you arrived,‖ he said. ―The name is McBain. His lordship told me I was to see to your leg. But I thought it wise to give ye a few days to work on the matter yourself, seein‘ as how ye seem to know what ye are doing.‖

Rose smiled sweetly. ―You can tell his lordship when he returns that you saw me and I am well.‖

―I would, lass, except, when he returned late last night and asked about ye, Mrs. Duff was adamant that ye were still spendin‘ most of yer time in bed recuperatin‘. His lordship being the concerned sort asked if I had checked on ye. I had to tell him I had not.‖

Rose did not want McBain looking at her leg. He would see that she was far better along than everyone thought. ―You can tell him that his concern is unwarranted. I am recovering, but these things take time.‖

McBain set the box on the table next to a modest arrangement of lilies in a large blue pottery jar. With his short stature and slightly pointy ears, he could have belonged to the fabled fairy people that lived in the forests of Scotland. ―That may be so, lass, but ye can no‘ be expecting me to report to his lordship that you‘re in the best of health if you‘re no‘. What if you‘re sufferin‘ the rot? How would his lordship look if he had to return ye to your da, one legged? Ye can understand his concern. And as I am a man who forms his own opinions about all matters, my lady, I would see to your health myself,‖ he gently replied, then directed her to the chair nearest the fire. ―Please. Allow me to have a look at that leg. Those sutures have been in a week.‖

His gentleness pulled at her defenses and she realized he was using the same tactic on her that she used on others. He merely asked but left the burden of whether to comply with her. She could deny him but then Roxburghe might come to her room and force her to submit to an examination, which would be undignified and humiliating. Then he might decide to search her room and find all his stolen silverware, knives and the scissors she had beneath the bed.

Rose limped to the chair and sat. ―You do not plan to give me a bread-and-milk poultice, do you?‖

―Nay, and neither will I give ye arsenic, blue vitriol, or white-oak-bark paste. I‘m not here to hurt ye or see ye bleed more than you‘ve already done so.‖

She watched as he opened the box and laid out various medical devices including a screw tourniquet, probe, and a tooth extractor that looked more like a cork opener.

The fire in the hearth suddenly seemed hot at her back. ―Are you a surgeon?‖ she asked nervously. ―You have treated many patients?‖

―Not many who have lived,‖ he said, moving aside a green jar in his box, his voice muffled as he bent over.

―Are you even a doctor?‖

―By necessity,‖ he said, laying a towel next to the box. ―Our ship‘s surgeon was killed my third year at sea. Though his lordship was no‘ one to tangle spars with, we saw our fair share of action. I learned the trade quickly. If a man was brought to me . as ye can guess taking a man‘s limbs is not an easy thing even if it is meant to save what life he has left.‖

―That is horrible.‖

―Oh, aye.‖ He peered at her from beneath bushy brows that looked like aged caterpillars.

―You‘ve no idea the courage it takes to look down the black maw of a forty pounder. His lordship did it more times than most. Me? I remained belowdecks and prayed.‖

She doubted it. He looked like an old curmudgeon capable of freezing the enemy to stone with one look. But at the thought of Ruark standing on the deck of his ship in the midst of battle her heart tripped, and she remembered their conversation in the glade, when he had told her how a broadside can destroy a man in more ways than one can imagine. She had wondered at the time if he had been alluding to more than battle at sea.

―Lord Roxburghe spoke briefly about his time on the
Black Dragon
,‖ she said.

―Did he?‖ McBain peered over his nose at her with interest. ―That is unusual. His lordship rarely speaks of such matters even to friends.‖

The criticism Rose had wanted to heap on the head of McBain‘s lordly master suddenly seemed trivial and childish, especially when she wanted to learn more about the man who had come home to Scotland from the sea. ―You have known Lord Roxburghe for a long time?‖

―Oh, aye. But he wasn‘t always ‗his lordship.‘ ‖

McBain finally found what he was searching for. He removed a small tin box and set it next to the folded rag. His eyes twinkling, he peered at her as he removed salve. ―Most patients have already fainted by now.‖

She glanced at the devices on the table. ―If you had pulled out the amputation saw, I would have thrown you out of the room.‖

He laughed as he shoved a pair of spectacles on his nose. ―That be the spirit, lassie.‖

McBain knelt next to her. Reluctantly, she bent over her knee. She wore a brown stockings and tallow-colored shoes that peaked from beneath the calf-length hem. She eased her dress to her thigh and untied her garter.

She looked away as McBain delicately pressed around the freshly scabbed flesh where she had snipped away the sutures this morning. He made complimentary sounds and grunts about her work, but noted the redness around an area she couldn‘t see.

Despite the serious slant of his lips, his eyes twinkled as he set down the tin of salve. ―Ye were smart to be restin‘ this week. Meadowsweet will help with itching as it begins to scab more. We‘ve no‘ much in the way of an herbal here but you are welcome to visit when you are up to the walk and see what we have. Maybe ye can teach me a thing or two about what is there on the shelves.‖

―I do not think so.‖ She smoothed her hands over her skirts. ―I mean I cannot see how I can help you.‖ It wouldn‘t do her any good to involve herself with the people here at Stonehaven. She didn‘t want to see the herbal.

―Suit yourself, lassie. But you are welcome to visit if ye wish.‖

He began to repack the box. In the growing silence, Rose adjusted her dress. For the most part everyone had treated her as if she were a guest, she thought as she stared at the four poster bed more suited to royalty than a hostage. From the sapphire velvet hangings draping the bed to the blue-and-green throw carpet and painted ceiling, she could conceive of such places existing only in her imagination. Except for the fact that there were so few windows, she found no fault with her quarters—any more than she had with the people who had served her. They‘d been kind.

―Thank you,‖ she said after a moment.

―Those who live here be decent souls,‖ he said as if reading her mind. ―I can tell ye Lord Roxburgh is no‘ as bad as ye want to believe he is, lass. He is nothing like the man his father was.‖

For the hundredth time since her arrival, Rose thought of Lady Roxburghe and the horror of losing one‘s child to an unknown fate.

Rose didn‘t know why she felt responsible for Julia‘s son, only that she had felt a connection to the woman. Perhaps it was because of the way Roxburghe had held her that night on the stairs as if they were more than friends. The same way he had held
her
in the glade, just before Rose had turned toward him and laid her hand across his heart. And he had made her feel safe.

―Lady Roxburghe must have wed Lord Roxburghe‘s father at a young age,‖ Rose said.

McBain shut the surgery box and clasped the lid. ―Aye, but ‘tis no secret that the betrothal should have been between his lordship and Lady Julia. But her father wanted his daughter married to an earl, and Roxburghe wanted a beautiful bride and more sons. That be the way it is, I suppose. A man needs sons.‖

The candid tone brought a flush to Rose‘s cheeks. ―What happened?‖

―What
could
happen?‖ McBain‘s eyes became blank as pebbles as they no longer seemed to focus on anything. ―His lordship got it into his mind to save her from her fate. He would wed her and take her from Scotland, though where they would have gone . Young people do no‘

have the sense the good Lord gave a squirrel. Well, three days before the weddin‘ is to take place, he and Lady Julia run away together. Only, she balks and they never made it to the kirk where his lordship had paid the minister there to marry them.

―Duncan and his lordship‘s father caught up to them before they had gone a few miles. He might have killed his father if no‘ for Duncan stepping in. When his lordship woke up three days later, he found himself delivered to the old captain of the
Dragon
. The ship did no‘ add
Black
to the
Dragon
until a year later when his lordship took the helm. Lord Roxburghe married Julia a week after he sent his son off to sea as if naught had ever happened to forever estrange him from his only son and heir.‖

Rose pretended close inspection of her hands. ―One hears gossip.‖

―Aye, and I‘m only telling ye something everyone else already knows, lass. But if ye want to know more you‘ll have to be askin‘ his lordship.‖

Rose came to her feet and turned toward the fire. She held her palms facing outward against the heat. ―Is it true that my father killed the former Lord Roxburghe?‖ she asked, dreading the answer.

―Aye . that‘s what they say. Ye and Jamie have been thrown into the middle of a fight that has nothing to do with either of ye.‖

―Do you know my father then?‖