Page 38 of A Laird and a Gentleman

As if on command, the wind rushed in. The bed drapes fluttered and the picture of a Scottish landscape rattled its frame against the wall behind it. Nessie’s hair lifted, streaking out behind her as the wind passed her by. Then as quickly as it came, it left.

Silence fell over the room as both she and Nessie stared at each other. The stale air had vanished along with the wind, leaving only sweetness in its place.

“You did it,” Nessie said, her voice sounding stronger now. “Go . . . help the others.”

Mariam hesitated, fearful of leaving Nessie alone. Her efforts had seemed to help in the short term. The cleared air might help others not become ill, but what of those who already were? Finally, Mariam nodded. “I won’t be gone long.”

Mariam rushed out of the chamber, down the hallway, and downstairs to the great hall. At her entrance, both Estella and Petunia glanced up from their nursing duties. Mariam pasted on a calm smile as she walked along the rows of pallets that had been created for the ill. Every makeshift bed now held a body, and not just the very young or the old. It seemed as though all members of the household were now falling ill.

“How are they faring?” Mariam asked.

“Most are sleeping,” Estella replied as she wiped at a young boy’s brow, her movements sluggish. “Others just moan in pain. I wish we could do more to help them.”

“So do I,” Mariam replied. “You both look exhausted. Why don’t you find a bit of rest? I will watch over them until you’ve both had something to eat and some fresh air.”

Petunia set down a bowl of water she must have just refreshed to start a new round of dampening cloths for the foreheads of those who were recently brought in. “That would be most appreciated.”

Estella stood and stepped away from the young boy she’d been attending. “The poor lad has taken a turn for the worse. His lungs are rattling and he cannot stop coughing.” She held out a cloth in her hands to reveal red splotches of blood against the white linen. “I don’t think he has much time left.”

Resolved to change that fate, Mariam straightened. “Go now, both of you and do not return until you feel refreshed. I cannot have either of you falling ill as well.”

The girls offered her a quick bow before they hurried from the chamber, more than relieved to be given a reprieve. Mariam’s shoulders sagged as they departed. All around the chamber she saw not just the individuals upon their beds, she also saw dirty brown and gray auras surrounding them all—surely the signs of disease and death.

Invisible hands clutched her heart. She could not allow them to die, not when she could do something to help them, however temporarily. Mariam turned and headed out of the great hall and swung wide the castle’s doors before heading back inside the sickroom.

For a heartbeat she hesitated as she looked about the chamber. Anyone who saw her do what she intended might call her a witch. The consequences could be profound and deadly for her, or were the castle residents too sick to care?

She had to take the chance. Slowly, she lifted her hands and connected with the force inside herself. She drew a deep breath, as deep as she’d ever drawn before, and slowly released it. A cold, thin wind started whistling from the open doorway and into the great hall. The strength of the breeze built, then multiplied, until the tapestries were flapping against the walls. The wind swirled atop the pallets, taking the foul air and replacing it with the scents of heather, peat, grass, and the tang of the sea. The combination mixed to create a unique blend, kissed by the sun, and sent to renew anyone it touched.

At the exact moment the wind peaked, Mariam felt a presence behind her. She startled and dropped her hands. The wind instantly died and all the breath went out of her lungs. Panic screamed though her as she whipped around to see Alexander, and another man and a woman, each holding a baby in their arms, staring at her.

Mariam froze, afraid to move or even to breathe.

“You must be Mariam,” the redheaded woman said as she moved to Alexander and placed the baby she carried into the warrior’s arms. “Take the children somewhere abovestairs and open the windows.” She took off her cloak, tossed it over the staircase railing, and returned to Mariam’s side. “I am Vivian Douglas.” She waved after the men now climbing the staircase with the children. “My husband, Quinn, and our twins, Alexander and Lilian. And before you ask, aye, we named our son after his godfather, Alexander Ross, whom you already know.”

Mariam clutched her shaking hands before her. The woman acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Quinn and Vivian.” She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “Cameron said you would arrive soon.”

Vivian’s features softened as she came and placed a warm hand atop Mariam’s. “Please do not worry about what happened here—what you think we might have seen. It is not an unusual event for us since we turned Kinmount House in Dumfriesshire into a sanctuary for men and women who are either suspected of being witches and warlocks, or for those who truly are.”

“There are others?” Mariam whispered.

“Aye,” Vivian said with a smile that faded as her gaze shifted to the chamber and its occupants. “We can discuss this more later. It appears we have work to do. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I’m not sure exactly.” Even though Vivian appeared to be kind and had claimed not to care about what Mariam had been doing, she could not risk telling her about her dreams. “The residents started falling ill this morning. I believe it is influenza.”

Vivian nodded as she moved back toward the doorway and retrieved a large leather satchel. “Then changing the air in the chamber was exactly what needed to happen. Clearing away the foul air is always the first step. Come.” She stepped past Mariam. “I’ll show you what else we can do to help them.” She set down her bag on a nearby table and started pulling out vials and containers of dried herbs, tinctures, and salves. She held a container out to Mariam. “Take this salve and start spreading it on every chest.”

Mariam inspected the container. It smelled strongly of mint. “What is it, if I might ask?”

“A salve of elderbark and wild mint. It will help them breathe easier.”

Mariam did as she was directed while Vivian prepared a second remedy using some sort of dried herb, bound together and placed in a sheet of parchment she rolled into a funnel. At the first patient’s bedside, she sat the patient up, and as she lit the herbs on fire, she forced the smoke into the funnel and had them breathe deeply. At Mariam’s questioning glance, Vivian explained, “’Tis English cudweed. The smoke, when taken into the body, helps relieve coughing, aches and pains, and cleanses the lungs.”

“How do you know all this?” Mariam asked.

“I’ve studied as a healer for years.”

Mariam smiled shakily. “I am so very grateful you are here.”