The Witch of Black Isle by Keira Montclair

Chapter Eight

Jennet awakened, her mind clearer than it had ever been. Bethia had left earlier. She told Jennet she would return after she checked on Donnan and the bairns. Molly and Tormod were staying to help Donnan, though Jennet suspected it was also a chance for the two of them to venture into Donnan’s special washing stall. He’d rigged a way for rainwater to collect in a basin and heat from the sun. With a tug, the water would shower over the couple, washing their hair easily as the water fell into a special drain Donnan had put together.

Molly was in love with it.

Jennet finished her ablutions and headed down to the great hall. She was pleased to find her mother seated at one of the tables with Lily and Torrian.

“Did you sleep well, daughter?”

“Aye, verra well. And I believe I know what we should do today, Mama. We need to focus on his string of fevers.”

“And what do you suggest we do?” her mother asked as she put down her utensils and gave Jennet her full attention.

“First, I wish to chat with him, mostly because I suspect he’ll be more alert this morn and can answer my questions better. But I think we need to scrub his wound again, especially if it shows any of the white or green collection near it.”

“I haven’t seen any green fluid since I scrubbed it the first time. It is only white. But I’ve done it on three occasions with little or no improvement. I cannot see that this practice will serve him well, Jennet.” Her mother folded and refolded a linen square, completely detached from the task. It was one of her nervous habits that took over when her mind was unsettled. “There must be something else going on inside of his body. I just cannot ascertain what it could be. Please help me consider all possibilities. And scrubbing that area of his wound is verra painful for your sire. Please remember this.”

Jennet sat next to her mother and clasped her hand inside hers. “Mama, why don’t we just talk with him and see if he’s improved first? I’d like the chance to ask him questions again now that I am more alert. I was tired last eve. Verra much.”

Her mother’s eyes misted, and she shook her head, staring at her lap. “You may ask all your questions, but he’s no better. I could tell his fever was back when I awakened. I covered him up and left. I don’t know how much he’ll be able to talk to you.”

Torrian said, “Brenna, why don’t you try what Jennet suggests? Talk with him first. Let him know you plan to clean it again because Jennet believes it to be the right thing to do. If she’s cleansing the wound, something may occur to her that you may have missed. Let her see it. While I don’t understand healing, I would suspect that looking at it could help her uncover the problem.”

Lily added, “Aye, Mama. Please let her do what she wishes.”

The twins both sat up. Lise said, “Aye, Grandmama.”

“Trust Jennet. We…”

“Do. She’s a fine…”

“…healer.” Lilian finished her twin’s thoughts, as they did.

Her mother smiled at the twins and nodded her head slightly. Her gaze carried from one of her family to the next. No one said anything as she considered all that had happened.

Because Quade’s wife Lilias had passed on shortly after Lily was born, Lily had no memory of her and had always called Brenna “Mama.” It was Torrian, four years older than his sister, who had convinced Quade that it was right to allow this of Lily because she was only three and had no one to call Mama. Torrian did remember their mother very well so had not used the term for Brenna.

But her mother loved them each equally. Bethia she’d seen last eve, and the only one missing was Gregor, who was with Linet because she was struggling with carrying their first bairn.

She finally rubbed her eyes and said, “I’ll agree to this. Eat some porridge first, then we can go inside, Jennet. I’ll not allow you to move until you’ve eaten. And I believe Cook has some fine fruit pastries for us this morn. Berry, if I’m correct.”

Jennet and Brigid had always loved their fruit tarts.

A serving lass set porridge down for her along with a platter of pastries. Surely Brigid would have loved to have that platter.

She’d done it again. Nearly every thought seemed to return to her beloved cousin. The lass who’d always been by her side. And now she was gone. The hardest part was that Brigid didn’t seem to miss her the way Jennet missed Brigid.

There were times when people had thought she had no feelings for others because she relied on truths and reason over emotion and attachment. She was called odd when she became interested in doing surgery on animals, the sight of blood never bothering her. Other times she’d been stared at as if she were a bizarre creature, especially when her mind had done things that no one else could comprehend.

She carved letters into the base of trees so her uncle could track them. She’d used this method to leave a message for her aunt and uncle, both expert trackers, and tell them which direction they were headed. Simply carving the letter “N” for north had helped them catch up to their captors.

She’d convinced Bearchun she was a witch by using knowledge she’d gained from her mother. She told her secretly that he would surely faint at the sight of blood. Knowing he would do this, Jennet waited until she had all the villains’ attention, then she cursed all of them, starting with Bearchun. She cursed him loudly just before secretly slitting her finger, allowing the blood to run down her arm. Bearchun had crumpled to the ground a moment later. The others all ran away, their fear of her driving them daft.

She’d saved Torrian from a life of marriage to Davina Buchan. Davina’s brother had requested a vial of chicken blood when he’d seen Jennet and Brigid doing surgery on the animal. He then used it on his sister’s sheets, declaring that Torrian had taken his sister’s maidenhead. Jennet had been too young to understand its meaning, and when they’d traveled to court to appear before the king, she had made her way over to the bastard and offered him another vial in case he was in need. The king noticed, and the truth eventually came out.

Tales had been told of her abilities for years. Could she live up to those tales?

She was about to be put to the test, and the subject was her own father.

***

Ethan awakened the next morn thoughtful. He had to make his mind up about what to do first. He noticed a loch not far away, so he headed out into the forest, determined to bathe before he headed back to Black Isle.

Another strong consideration lay hidden within his mind—he would not carry the odor he did at present to say goodbye to Jennet. Off he went on his mission, not surprised when he passed Gwyneth Ramsay on her way to the archery field. He stopped her with a call. “Lady Ramsay, may I keep the bow and take a few arrows with me?”

“Of course, Ethan. I heard you did a fine job last eve.”

“Did I? That pleases me.” He gave her a curt nod and proceeded on his way, stopping first to grab a few arrows before heading to the stable to find his horse. He allowed himself a quick thought about who would have spoken to Gwyneth about him, then gave it up just as quickly because it didn’t matter to him.

Once he mounted, he headed out without hesitating. He had much to do this day. When he passed the archery field, he noticed a small group of lasses practicing. But as soon as he passed them on his horse, their chatter stopped. He slowed his horse to see if someone had been hurt, but the girls were all looking at him.

Watching his movements.

A long time ago, he’d been considered handsome. Lasses had admired him from afar, giggling when they’d get close to him, especially lasses who didn’t know him or anything about him. As soon as they discovered he was a wee bit different, they were no longer interested.

Of course, the situation worsened after the issue with Cori’s friends. That had sparked his disinterest in touching, but he never spoke of the other event that had made it all the worse—his brief affair with Cori. He’d never even shared this experience with his brothers. Cori had come to him after he was older and offered herself to him as a wife, wishing to mate with him.

He hadn’t wanted to do it, but Cori had done certain things, touched him in ways he didn’t understand, showed him how his body would react. That part of it he enjoyed. She told him it wasn’t her first time, and even though it was his, she didn’t seem to care. They’d done it just like animals, and it had been a pleasurable experience for him.

When they had finished, though, she’d gotten angry with him. Said things he didn’t understand about leaving her cold and unsatisfied. She became so upset, so angry, and he didn’t know what else to do besides get dressed and leave.

She yelled at him to never touch her again. Even called him daft. He’d never shared that with anyone because he didn’t understand the entire situation. He still didn’t know what she meant, but his touching issue became drastically worse.

Because of that whole debacle, he had little interest in flirting or showing any interest in a woman at all. That is, until he met Jennet. The quickness of her mind was for certain the first thing that had drawn him in, but there was something else that attracted him more.

She didn’t consider him different. To her, Ethan’s odd quirks were nothing unusual. So he would do what was needed to get to know her better, to pursue her. Because at this moment, on Ramsay land, only one thing mattered—Jennet.

Donnan was correct. He did have feelings, and they were the kind that would cause an ache inside his body if he left her and she never returned to Black Isle. He knew it was possible, since most of her family were here, but he didn’t like it. He couldn’t be what he needed to be for her here. It would be better that he return to Black Isle where Gisela or Marcas could help him deal with his fear of touching. He could touch both of them, so why not Jennet?

He had to figure it out before Jennet found out he was incapable. That could ruin their chances completely. While he’d considered taking his leave without speaking with Jennet first, the warning from Donnan returned to him about guarding her tender feelings. So he decided it would be best if he spoke to her first. He would ask her preference. Should he stay or go?

And if she sent him home, then his feelings would be hurt a wee bit. He nearly smiled over that because Donnan had assessed him correctly. He had feelings when it came to Jennet, so he needed to guard everything he did carefully. If he left, would she stay on Ramsay land forever?

How could he convince Jennet that she needed to return to Black Isle?

Without a doubt, he knew he would miss her. Their conversations were detailed, challenging yet comfortable. He wasn’t afraid of her ridiculing him for his odd thoughts. She understood his need to keep things organized and in order, his love of numbers and counting. He had more to share with her, too. Things he hadn’t dared mention.

Why hadn’t he ever explained his love of the stars to her? How they were one of the few things in the world that were always dependable, forever constant. The weather changed on a whim, went from snow to ice before you could get safe. Rain hailed down on you hard enough to cause your head to ache.

His family, his brothers, his sister, they could all be in wonderful moods, then change in a second, turning angry over things he didn’t understand.

But the stars were always there for him. Though they never wavered, they did appear to take on a life of their own, fusing and molding their way into fascinating shapes the more you stared up at them. He could observe their beauty for hours.

This he needed to share with Jennet. The next time he had the opportunity, he would. She would listen as he explained the joy the stars could invoke in him, the warmth he felt whenever the night sky was clear or the moon full, anything to light up the thousands and thousands of glitters above. He’d tried to count them when he was younger but got lost in the larger numbers.

He would tell her of this before he left, just in case it might win him favor.

He arrived at the loch, found a tree to tie his horse to, and tossed his clothes onto a bush before rushing to the edge and jumping in. His brothers had attempted to teach him to go in headfirst, but he never had the courage to send his face to the bottom of a body of water. Feet first was the only way for him.

The water was warmer than he’d expected, so he floated on his back, staring up at the scattered white clouds in the sky. Clouds baffled him because sometimes it was as if he could see directly through them. They could change into something dark and frightening in a matter of minutes.

Unlike the stars he loved.

He made his mind up. He’d locate Jennet, ask to speak with her for a few moments, tell her how much he loved the stars, then ask her if she would prefer he took his leave. He had nothing more to do here. Finally settled on a course of action, he climbed out of the water, shook his hair, then walked about a bit to dry off.

He’d find Jennet and tell her he was leaving.