Chapter 17

17

T he morning dawned dark and dreary, incredibly appropriate for the burial of Caitlin’s friend. Storm clouds rolled through the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance. Douglas pulled a part of the plaid up over his head in anticipation of the downpour soon to come.

A small group of mourners gathered at the side of the hastily dug grave and were, but for a few quiets sobs, silent watchers. Caitlin was already there, as well as her parents, Robert and Anice, Iain and his family, and Craig. Douglas hadn’t seen Craig since that first day at the keep and that was fine. He just didn’t like him.

He liked him even less when he walked to Caitlin’s side and put his arm around her shoulders. She allowed it and, as he watched, she moved closer to Craig. They whispered back and forth and Craig leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. They stayed in that embrace for the rest of the service.

Douglas felt very much the stranger this morning. He didn’t want to intrude into the family’s grief even though he found himself wanting to be at Caitlin’s side. Every time he looked over, she and Craig were still together. The only ones who met his gaze were Pol and Moira. Each time Craig moved closer to Caitlin, he found them watching his reaction, as though they waited for him to do something.

He did nothing except mumble along with the prayers of the visiting priest. They were a curious mix of Gaelic and Latin, but some of them sounded somewhat familiar to him. Soon the prayers were over and Iain and some men laid Mildread’s body in the grave and began to cover it with dirt. Caitlin was sobbing and turned into Craig’s arms. He held her tightly and rocked slightly back and forth as he whispered to her.

The beating of his heart almost overwhelmed him once more. His fists clenched and released. His jaw did the same, causing his pulse to pound in his head, too. Seeing Caitlin in Craig’s arms was not a comfortable thing. Well, he’d better not think much about it since Craig would most likely be doing more than just holding her after he left. Douglas had no claim to her affections, but his heart didn’t want to hear that.

The last shovelful of dirt was added and a tarp pulled over the grave were the signals that the sky was waiting for—as it was placed lovingly by Iain and patted down, the clouds released the torrents, as they had been threatening to all morning. Douglas pulled the heavy woolen covering closer to him and stepped aside for the family to leave. He waited for Caitlin but she and her parents walked off in another direction. Craig had released Caitlin from another embrace and, without knowing how close to a violent end he was, followed Robert and Anice back toward the castle gate.

If Douglas was going to live these next few months as if he were staying forever, he had things to do before seeing Caitlin. And, since he didn’t think they had such things as bereavement days in medieval Scotland, his first stop would be at the smithy’s.

Ducking under the low edge of the roof, Douglas entered the smithy. The building looked like a small house with a portico extending off one side and that side was open to the elements. Hides, used to control air flow and temperature within the working area, were rolled up on each edge of the portico. In spite of the weather and the season, two blacksmiths were hard at work. Shaking off the water, he dropped the plaid onto his shoulders and looked around.

“I’ve come to speak with Pol,” Douglas said, not recognizing either of the men. Then he heard someone enter from the other side.

“Ah, Douglas, here ye be,” Pol said.

“I need to speak to you,” Douglas started, looking from one man to the next.

“Well, then, speak. But first, do ye ken my brother Ramsey and his eldest son Kenneth?” Pol introduced them as he pulled a heavy leather apron over his head and secured it behind and around his waist. After tying his long hair back out of his face, Pol picked up the tools of his trade.

Douglas nodded to each man and then turned to where Pol stood. “I need some tools but I have no money to pay for them.”

All three men exchanged glances and then burst out in laughter. After a few moments of it, Pol looked at him.

“Ye are a learned mon, Douglas, and yet ye hiv no understanding of our clan. Tell me, will these tools be for the good of the clan ?” He stood with his huge hands on his hips, legs spread wide.

“Yes, they will be,” he said. The tools would help whoever the healer treated with them. He’d seen Caitlin struggle with simple surgical procedures that would have been made easier with the right tool.

“Well then, tell me what ye hiv need of and we’ll see if we canna get them for ye.”

Douglas spent the next half hour describing to the blacksmiths what he had in mind and they surprised him in both their knowledge of design and cooperation. With some decent scalpels, forceps and finer needles, Caitlin’s and his own work among the injured would be easier. Her skills so far had impressed him and with a little guidance she would be even better. More lives could be saved, or at least improved.

After shaking hands with all three, Douglas pulled the plaid back up on his head and turned to go.

“They’ve been friends since they were bairns,” Pol said.

“I know that Mildread’s death has hit Caitlin hard.”

“Dinna misunderstand my meaning. Craig and Caitlin hiv grown up together. ”

So the cool, calm exterior he’d practiced for years was neither cool nor calm. An interested father had read him easily, through a heavy rain and darkened skies.

“And he wants her for a wife,” Douglas answered. “I know that also.”

“That haes been settled, Douglas. She’ll no’ be a wife to Craig. His parents ken and accept.”

“But does he?” Douglas wasn’t sure of the reason for this. He knew that both Moira and Pol had studied him throughout the burial. After seeing their embrace last night, was Pol waiting for a declaration of some kind from him?

“Well, the lad haes been having a bit of a hard time accepting it so far. But, he will. For the good of the clan, of course.”

“Wouldn’t Caitlin be good enough for him? Or do his parents look higher for his bride?” Douglas knew the marriage customs of this time. As heir to the clan, Craig should have a highborn wife, one that would bring wealth or land or connections to him and to the MacKendimens.

“Robert and Anice are no’ the ones looking higher for a bride for him, nor Craig himself. There are others, elders in the clan, who want alliances to come from the marriage of the tanist. But after what Robert and Anice went through with their own marriage, they would defend to the death Craig’s right to marry as he will.”

Douglas started to ask a question but Pol’s expression stopped him. “Well, lad, ye hiv things to do as do we,” Pol looked pointedly at his brother and nephew, “And those tasks will no’ get done on their own. Come to supper tonight and we can talk more.”

Talk more? This was the most he’d heard Pol say in the month that he’d been there!

A rumble of thunder and flash of lightning caught his attention. Readjusting the plaid to cover more of his head, Douglas walked to the edge of the smithy.

“Thank you all for your help. Ramsey, Kenneth, it was good to meet you. Pol, I’ll be there this evening.”

He would spend the day with Caitlin. There were many things he could learn from her, and he intended to do just that.

She ruined the ointment for the third time. After measuring and grinding and mixing four different herbs together, she could still not remember whether she’d added more comfrey to the paste this time than she had the last. Frustrated by her inability to concentrate on the tasks before her, she put the bowl down with a huff.

Gathering her shawl up on her shoulders, she walked to the hearth and pushed the smaller cauldron of water over the flame. Mayhap a cup of tea would help her to focus on the tasks at hand, if she could remember how to brew one. A simple infusion of betony with honey would feel good against the chill of the day.

Finding the wooden box where the betony was stored, Caitlin chose a few stalks of it and crumbled them onto a porous cloth. Gathering its edges, she laid it over the side of a large earthen pitcher and waited for the water to boil. She stared into the flames and her thoughts drifted.

The last few days had been a trying time for her. Her feelings for Douglas were so confusing. She felt like she was being dragged up one side of a mountain and down the other. Before he came to her village, she knew her place in the clan and expected no more and no less than the kind of life her mother had—treating the sick and injured, having a husband and family, living among the clan.

Even though she had refused Craig’s most recent offer of marriage, a part of her was accustomed to the idea of marrying him. Though she suspected he would not be faithful to her like her father was to her mother, Craig would make a good husband and laird when the time came. She could continue her healing work and they would grow old helping their clan. A fitting life for the daughter of a healer and a blacksmith.

Then Douglas had crashed onto the scene and her life and heart had been turned upside down. She knew now that the dreams had set up some unrealistic expectations for her. She’d wanted to believe that she would meet the man, they would fall madly in love and be together. Instead, she and Douglas had spent most of their time denying the attraction between them and denying that their feeling ran deeper than just that of the flesh.

Oh, there was that. His kisses drugged her more than her mother’s concoction of poppy juice and valerian root. She wanted them to go on and on. And his touch created such a heat in her. Memories of the night before and the waves of heat and magic his hands made when they touched and rubbed her breasts. She was sure that her breasts swelled as he held them in his palms. And tingled. Oh, they tingled more than in the dreams. She noticed the wetness and throbbing between her legs as they walked home. Just as in the dream.

She shook her head and realized she was watching the pot boil. Using the end of her skirt against the heat, Caitlin lifted the pot and filled the pitcher with steaming water. Soon the fragrant aroma of betony filled the cottage. As she watched the water swirl around in the pitcher, her thoughts turned back to Douglas.

She couldn’t hold his desire to go home against him. After all, she would feel the same if this incredible thing had happened to her. To be separated from all you knew and loved had to be somewhat confusing. And the man was definitely confused.

She knew he must be skilled to be a doctor in his time yet he refused to use those skills now. Oh, he claimed not to have the right tools but she knew that was an excuse. Somewhere along the way he had lost his calling. He’d begun to rely on those gadgets and tek-knoll-o-gee instead of his instincts but his desire to heal was still there, buried deep.

Was that why he was here? To find his calling to heal again? And then he would leave, called back by the Fates the same way he’d arrived?

Sighing, she removed the cloth bag from the pitcher and poured a small amount of honey into the tea. Caitlin poured some of the steaming brew into a mug and held it in front of her, enjoying the smell of her favorite drink. Her thoughts always seemed clearer after betony, but what herb would help her heart after Douglas left?

Caitlin was certain of one thing—she and Douglas were linked somehow. They had saved each other’s lives for some purpose. Was it only to restore his lost faith? She thought not. Her mother had not told her much but she knew her own part of this was yet to come. Maybe he had to believe in her gift, too? In something he could not see or explain even with his knowledge from the future?

Well, in her heart she also knew that she would not hold back her feelings from Douglas. She’d watched his inner struggles enough to know he cared, for her and for people in need of help. ’Twas only his uncertainty about changing things yet to come that held him back.

She would be there when the feelings became as clear to him as they already were to her. She would be there for whatever came. She would be there for him.