Page 44 of Highlander’s Evil Side

“What is it, lass?” Hamish asked, rushing past Beitris and taking the woman’s hand. “What can I help ye with?”

“It’s my son. He’s very ill. I do not know what is wrong,” the woman swallowed, gulping down gasps of air. She clenched her jaw, swallowing a sob before saying, “His body has the fever. I try to get him to drink, to eat, but he won’t. He-he—” The woman covered her face and wailed into her palms, her shoulders shaking with each cry she emitted.

Beitris reached for the woman, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and cradling her close. She felt so much for this stranger, wishing she could help her in some way. There were rare books written about stomach pains and herbs that could poison one’s insides, but they were hard to come by. Beitris was only able to read one book on healing, yet she didn’t have much experience in these matters. She turned to Hamish, meeting his sorrow-filled eyes, and hoped he could do something for the poor mother.

“Please, ye must help him,” the woman wailed while lifting her head. She lunged towards Hamish and grabbed his hands with a white-knuckled grip. “I do not know what to do. I cannot lose him. I cannot lose my baby.”

“Calm yerself, lass,” Hamish said gently. “I will go with ye. I will tend to the boy. But I will need to return to the keep to gather my herbs from the tower.”

“There’s nae time,” the woman sobbed. “He could be dead by then. Please, couldn’t ye come with me now? We have a cottage not far from here in the wood.”

Hamish frowned. “I suppose I could send for my apprentice.” Hamish grimaced. “However, I believe he is tending to the men in the western village. He won’t be back until the evening. Do ye have a husband who could be of help? Do ye know of the herbs in yer wood?”

“Nae,” the woman wailed, her hands covering her face while her sobs racked her shoulders. “It’s just me and my lad. My husband died years ago. Please, ye must come. Ye must come now.”

Hamish glanced at Beitris. She grimaced, knowing exactly what he was asking with that look. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go. She did. She wanted to help all of Fraser’s people; however, with the double running rampant, she didn’t know if this could be a trap to lead her away from the keep. The evil Fraser had already claimed her lips twice, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he’d make himself known to her again.

Although, staring down at the woman before her, how desperate she appeared and the way she cried for her son, she knew she needed to do something. Beitris had only read one book, but she knew which herbs could aid a fever and which could aid stomach pains. She would be of better use than if she sent a guard with Hamish to help with the boy.

“I will go with ye,” said Beitris, giving Hamish a confirming nod.

“Are ye sure, my lady?” Hamish asked as she strode past him.

She grabbed her basket, casting a worried smile to the children still sitting in a circle in the grass. “Apologies, my dears, I’m afraid I must go.”

The little girl pouted. “But ye will be back tomorrow?”

Beitris’s smile widened, and she stroked the girl’s hair while saying, “Of course, I will.”

“I could ask another,” said Hamish, watching her stride past him once more towards the pair of guards standing at the edge of the encampment. “It would take some time, however—”

“Nae,” she said sternly. “We don’t have much time. Excuse me, sir!” she called to one of the guards, hovering above a woman hanging her washing on the line between tents.

He turned to her. His lips twisted into a deplorable sneer as he eyed her easily, his dark gaze making her hair rise. She recognized that look from somewhere. It reminded her of when she was in the falls, of the man who grabbed her. He sauntered towards her, his companion mimicking the look while he followed closely behind. Both soldiers were lanky with greasy dark hair. One brandished a scar on his chin, while the other displayed a cut on his head.

“Aye, my lady,” said the soldier with the chin scar easily, making her eyes narrow.

Beitris pushed back her shoulders and jutted out her chin, feeling the need to assert her status despite the unease growing in her belly. “Tell the laird I have gone with Hamish. I know he will be concerned for my safety, but I will be taking a guard and should return before nightfall.”

The soldier chuckled bitterly. “Of course, my lady.”

Beitris’s eyes narrowed. She turned towards the other, standing nearby with the same leering look. “Did ye hear me?”

He nodded slowly. “Loud and clear, my lady,” he said, his head tilting while his gaze raked over her form. “We’ll inform the laird of yer whereabouts.”

Beitris’s frown deepened. She glanced between the men. There was something about them she did not care for, but they had agreed to send her message, and she couldn’t spend the time admonishing them for staring. She turned around and stalked towards Hamish and the woman. Her gaze landed on a nervous-looking soldier now standing at Hamish’s side, wringing his hands while looking around him.

The soldier was shorter than the other two. He was younger than her, possibly a newly appointed squire. His brown hair curled around his ears while freckles dotted his gangly limbs. He was the only other soldier besides the two she spoke with before, and although she wished for a more experienced soldier to protect her, she did not want to ask the others. Looking him up and down, Beitris was surprised someone so young could be a soldier; however, she knew the MacClerys were in need of able-bodied men.

“What is yer name?” Beitris called to him.

“Me, my lady?” the young soldier asked while pointing to himself.

Beitris nodded curtly.

“Ian, my lady.”

“Ian, ye will attend to our safety. There may be brigands in the wood. Are ye up for the task?”

Ian straightened, nodding vigorously while his hand moved to his hilt. “I will ensure yer safety, my lady.”

Beitris turned her attention back to the woman at Hamish’s side. “Take us to yer son,” said Beitris gently, the darkness in her gaze easing as she looked at the terrified woman. Her eyes were wide, and her body was shaking.

Beitris took the shawl from her shoulders and wrapped it around the woman before taking her hand and nudging her forward. “Do not worry,” Beitris whispered to her. “We will help ye.”

The woman’s face looked as if it was about to crumble and break down into another fit of sobs, but with a sharp intake of breath, she straightened herself and pushed on, guiding them through the fields and towards the wood. Beitris tried not to think about the soldiers or how she felt their eyes burrowing holes into her back. She tried to focus on the woman at her side and what Hamish would need of her, rather than the feeling of being watched.