A Lesson in Passion (7 page)

When complete, Ginny asked, “Do you want me to
fetch your husband?”

“Will I die soon?”

“What?” Ginny gasped. “I don't
think your injuries are so serious that you'll die.”

“Would ya help me if I wanted to?”
Her voice was desperate and tears filled her eyes. She knew that
she would never be whole again and certainly didn't want her
husband to live out his life with half a wife. Every night in that
cell, she would pray for the end. Every morning she would be
disappointed. Now, above all else, she wanted to sleep forever and
let the pain finally disappear.

“I can't do that,” Ginny said
quietly. “I will do anything else for you, but I won't help you
die.”

“Then, yes, ya can fetch my husband
for me.”

Ginny hesitated and stared at the woman lying
on the ground. Aileana would not meet her gaze, but stared at the
wall of the tent instead. Where there was companionable silence
during the examination, now there was tension. Ginny couldn't give
her what she wanted, so now she planned on asking her husband the
same request. Ginny barely knew Alec, but it was pretty obvious he
adored his wife. This request, made out of desperation and grief,
was likely to destroy the man.

Ginny left the tent, and Aileana's request, to
search for her husband. She didn't have to look far, since he was
never out of sight of the tent. He strode over to her, with
purposeful strides, looking hopeful. Ginny had trouble meeting his
gaze at first, but forced some courage into her system and looked
up. Alec saw it immediately and was stopped short in his
tracks.

“No,” Alec whispered.

“Your wife will survive her
injuries, I think.” Ginny paused, trying to think of the right
words, “But I don't think she wants to.” The anguish that crossed
Alec's face was like a body slam to Ginny. The air whooshed out of
her lungs and she had trouble replacing it. It was one thing for
someone to lose their battle against disease or injury, it was
quite another for someone to give up. Aileana was giving
up.

Alec looked confused. “What do ya mean? Will
she live or no'?”

“Her injuries are superficial. The
deeper wounds are things I can't heal. I think she's been praying
for death for so long now that she's forgotten how to live.” Ginny
didn't think she was making much sense to the man, but these were
the only words she had to describe it. Surprisingly, Alec nodded
his head and went to the tent. Before he entered, Ginny said, “I
had to cut her hair. 'Cause of the lice. Try not to look
surprised.”

He nodded back at her and entered the
tent.

No sooner had he entered the tent, did Ian
walk up behind Ginny. He moved so stealthily that she didn't hear
him coming. When he spoke, Ginny jumped like a skittish cat. Ian
grabbed her to keep her from falling on her face. With laughter in
his voice, he asked, “Did I scare ya?”

Ginny was in no mood for games. She shook her
head in disgust and asked, “Do any of your men require any healing?
I've done all I can for Aileana.”

Hearing the depression in her voice, Ian asked
gently, “Will she no' live?”

Not in any mood to explain it to him, Ginny
shook her head. “She'll survive... but I don't know if she'll
live.” With that, Ginny walked away trying to find someplace to be
alone. From the moment she'd come to this place, she'd been going
full tilt. Now, as exhaustion was closing in, she wanted a moment
to be alone and breathe.

• * Chapter 6 *
  

Everywhere she looked, there were warriors.
They were preparing meals, tending to horses, tending to fires.
There didn't seem to be two square inches for her to be by herself.
On the far side of the camp, was a small stream that wound its way
down from the ridge. She walked over and drank from the edge, using
her cupped hand to hold the water.

Then she used the water to wash her
face. Before she scooped up the water, Ginny saw her reflection and
realized that she was in someone else's body. Her face was smaller,
heart shaped with full lips and almond shaped eyes. She couldn't
tell the color from her reflection. She had black hair, pulled back
into a braid that ran the length of her back. Ginny had to admit
that Lady Chatham was quite a beautiful girl.
Of course she is
, she thought,
this is a romance novel, right?
She'd already realized she was shorter, but seeing
this was strange, overwhelming.

After the shock of realizing that she wasn't
herself, Ginny used the water to wash off. The coolness of the
water refreshed her again, but did nothing to soothe the ache in
her heart for Aileana and Alec. As she stared at the beginning of
the sunset, Ian approached her, making himself known early on so as
to not scare her again.

“Some of my men could use yar
skill. Minor injuries, but...” Ian stopped and just stared. He
noticed that she was beautiful, but in the coming sunset, with the
sun so bright on the horizon, she was breathtaking.

Ginny turned and looked at him. “Of course.
Were you able to procure me any supplies from the keep?”

“Aye, Broderick found some things.
I'll show ya the way.”

Ginny followed as closely behind as
her legs would allow. Ian's legs were long and his strides
purposeful. He scarcely glanced back to make sure she was keeping
up.
What a gentleman,
Ginny thought as she started to double time it so as not to
get lost.

Beside the tent for Aileana was another tent.
Ian lifted the flap and motioned for Ginny to enter. Inside, there
was a pallet on the ground for a makeshift bed and a bunch of old
jars and bottles lined up along the one side. Ginny began to open
the jars to try to discover what items Broderick had found. Nothing
was labeled, of course, so Ginny was using her other senses to
figure out the contents. Her grandmother, God rest her soul, was a
huge fan of herbal remedies. Grannie would grow her own plants and
mix them into potions and poultices that she would use on her
neighbors, many of whom had no insurance and were happy for the
help. Grannie passed on her knowledge to Ginny, who appreciated the
time spent with her grandmother, but ended up pursing modern
medicine instead.

Ginny found a needle and fine thread, good
enough for stitches. She found what she thought was an opium based
poultice that could be rubbed on a wound. Ginny had to give these
people credit. Although they were working with very little
knowledge compared to Ginny's standards, they were very resourceful
with their treatment methods. Of course, nothing could replace
decent hygiene for eliminating many of the ails of the
day.

Ginny poked her head out of the tent and asked
Ian for a few more things, “I need some hot and cold water. Also,
can I have boiling water to put a few things in to sterilize
them?”

“Ya want to what?” Ian asked,
looking confused. In the short time he'd known this woman, she'd
spoken oddly, even for the English, but he attributed it to her
youth. Now, she wasn't making any sense at all.

“I need to clean the needle and
thread. Boiling water will do the best job. Please,” Ginny looked
at Ian hoping he would just do it and not ask a lot of
questions.

“Aye,” was all he said.

As Ginny continued to investigate her booty,
her first patient walked into the tent. Ginny was taken back by how
young he looked. The boy, no more than sixteen or seventeen years
old, was a tall, gangly creature with bright red hair and freckles
that covered every inch of his body. He looked reluctant to be
there.

“Hi there. My name is Ginny. What
seems to be the problem?” Ginny tried to sound as friendly as
possible so this kid didn't think she was going to hurt
him.

The boy kept looking at everything but her. He
would open his mouth, then quickly close it again. Then he would
shuffle his feet, clear his throat and rub his hands together.
Ginny continued to stare at him, but was afraid to say anything
more since he looked like he was about to bolt.

As softly as possible, she turned to the boy
and said, “I can't help you if you don't talk to me. I mean you no
harm and will be very gentle.”

With that, the boy's head popped up and he
looked angry. He spat out, “I am not afraid of ya. How dare ya
think such a thing.”

“Alright then... boy... what can I
do for you?” Ginny emphasized the “boy,” to show him that she was
not afraid of him either.

He sneered and began to walk out of the tent,
when he suddenly came back in, followed closely by Ian. The boy
stood before the laird and bowed his head. He looked somewhat
terrified of Ian, not that Ginny could blame him.

“Have ya been fixed already,
Ronald? Ya were no' in here so long.” A smile came across Ian's
face like he was in on a joke that Ginny was not privy too. It did
not take long for her to find out what was so funny.

“Ronald here slipped and fell
during the battle. He needs some stitching done to his
arse.”

With the bright red hair and freckles, it was
hard to believe that Ronald could get any redder. However, here the
poor boy stood, practically glowing from the embarrassment. Ian
looked quite proud of himself for discomfiting the young warrior.
Like the army, you have to break them down, before building them
back up. Obviously, Ian was still breaking this one
down.

“Very well, please lie down on your
stomach on the blanket and I'll take a look,” Ginny went into
professional mode. She'd seen every kind of naked body and it
didn't faze her in the least. Of course, this boy didn't know
that.

Ronald shot a pleading look at Ian, who
continued to stare back at him. When Ronald didn't move, Ian raised
one eyebrow as if to say, “Well.” Ronald lowered himself to the
floor and covered his face in his hands.

“I know ya willnae disgrace yarself
or me, Ronald. I will stay here to make sure the lass does a good
job.” With that, Ian turned to Ginny and waved her to
continue.

Ginny knelt beside the boy and lifted his
kilt. He had a nasty slash across his right cheek. “What did you
land on, Ronald?” Ginny would often make idle chitchat to comfort
her patients. She found that if they were talking, they tended not
to be as scared.

“A scythe,” was the only answer he
would give.

Ginny cleaned the wound as best she could,
getting any debris out. She used the anesthetic she found to dull
the pain of the needle. Then, as she'd done a thousand times
before, under far better conditions, Ginny began to sew up the
wound. She was surprised that the boy never flinched or cried out
in pain. Ginny didn't think she would be so calm under the same
circumstances.

When completed, she covered the wound as best
as she could without any tape. “You need to clean the wound with
soap and water at least three times a day. You need to keep it dry
and covered until it's time to take the stitches out.”

Ginny barely got the instructions out before
the boy bolted from the tent. She stared at the tent opening and
began to giggle over the situation. She honestly felt bad for the
boy, but he was practically purple by the time she'd finished. To
avoid looking at Ian, who would probably send her into grand fits
of laughter, Ginny walked over to the water and carefully washed
her hands. She didn't have any soap, but used some of the alcohol
she found among the items Broderick brought back.

Once composed, Ginny turned to ask Ian if
there would be any more patients. As she turned, she saw another
man walk into the tent. “Hello, what can I do for you?” Ginny
noticed a large number of warriors right outside the tent opening,
all staring inside.

“I have been hurt, my lady,” the
warrior said, with a gleam in his eye.

“Okay, where have you been
injured?”

“Why, on my dallywag, my lady,” the
warrior said with a big smile on his face.

Ginny had an idea where this was going. One of
the first jobs she had out of school was an ER in downtown Phoenix.
She'd treated her share of drunk college students who couldn't
quite navigate a curb. Most would be all too proud to show off
their goods, especially to the female staff. Ginny put on her game
face and asked the obvious question, “And what, sir, is a
dallywag?”

“This,” the warrior screamed and
lifted the front of his kilt, laughing uproariously with his
comrades behind him. When he finally took a breath, Ginny looked
unamused.

In a loud enough voice so all the gang could
hear, she examined his private area and exclaimed, “I can see what
the problem is... you obviously lost most of it during the
battle!”

The laughter died in seconds, but suddenly,
all the men outside the tent began to roar again with laughter. The
warrior in the tent immediately dropped his kilt back down, turned
a bright shade of red and snarled at her like an animal whose food
was threatened. If he thought he could intimidate her, he was
mistaken.

“I'm sorry, sir, but my skills are
not that good. I'm afraid I can't help you,” Ginny put on her sweet
smile and turned her back on him.
Let him
stew in that for while, arrogant bastard
,
she thought to herself as she continued to inventory her
supplies.