“It must be now,” Marion demanded.“Their babe is dying.”
“I’ll fetch horses for the two ofus,” he quickly agreed, putting his bow and arrow on his back and picking uphis sword.
“I’ll come,” Bridgette added.“Please fetch me a horse as well.”
Graham grinned and departed.Bridgette looked at Marion. “I’d like to learn more of the healing arts. Do yemind, Marion?”
Marion shook her head then studiedBridgette. “Are you coming for the knowledge or for Graham?”
Bridgette pressed her lipstogether. “The knowledge, Marion. I dunnae think of Graham that way. He issweet, but I dunnae have a spark for him. My heart belongs to Lachlan.”
“What of Lachlan’s heart?” Marioncould not help but ask.
Bridgette sighed. “I kinnae tell ifhe likes me or nae. He seems to avoid me, but then I do catch him looking atme.”
Before more could be said, Grahamreturned with the horses and they readied to depart.
“Where are ye three going?”Archibald called as he exited the castle.
“To the Beacons’ cottage for Marionto tend to their ill bairn,” Graham explained.
Marion half expected Archibald tooffer to come, but his brows drew together in an oddly agonized expression. “Ihope the bairn will be well. I’m sure in yer hands, Marion, it will.”
“Thank you,” she replied, catchingthe quizzical look that Bridgette and Graham were exchanging, but they simply bidArchibald farewell and departed.
Bridgette looked from Graham toMarion as the three of them rode away from the castle. “That was strange.”
“Yes,” Marion agreed. “I pity him.I think he does not feel he belongs anywhere.”
“He makes himself feel that way,”Graham replied in an unyielding voice that reminded Marion of Iain, causing anache of missing him to throb in her heart. Marion settled into her saddle andlistened to Bridgette and Graham tell stories of childhood exploits in thehighlands while she thought about Iain.
By the time they arrived at the Beacons’ cottage, aswirling mist filled the air, which she knew by now was not uncommon for theIsle of Skye. Marion, with Bridgette behind her, knocked on the door, and thehusband, Lormac, showed them in, and then he stepped outside so the women wouldhave privacy.
Glynnis, the ill bairn’s mother,sat in a chair looking utterly distraught as she held her swaddled child.Marion approached her and kneeled, taking a quick peek at the sweet baby boy’s face.
“I’m Marion MacLeod,” she offered,though she knew Glynnis likely supposed this already. “This is Bridgette. Whatseems to be the matter?”
“He will nae take my milk anymore,”the woman cried. “And when he was taking my milk, he kept spitting it up. Thereis something the matter with me! I’m killing my bairn!” Tears coursed down thewoman’s face, and Marion gently wiped them away.
“Shh,” she cooed. “I think yourbabe is one that cannot stomach human milk. I’ve seen it before.”
The woman gasped. “Ye have?”
“Yes. Do you have any animals?”
Glynnis nodded. “Three goats. Oneis just born.”
Marion bit her lip. She’d only everseen cow’s milk used to feed a babe, but with the choice of leaving the babe todie or trying goat’s milk, she would choose goat’s milk. She nodded, hurriedoutside, and told Lormac to fetch some of the goat’s milk.
When she went back into thecottage, she looked to Glynnis. “I need some linen.”
“On the table,” she said in aclearly skeptical voice.
Marion got the linen and ran backto the door, her excitement at possibly saving the bairn growing. It did nottake long for Lormac to return. He handed her a bowl of milk and was about tostep outside when she motioned him back. “You should watch, too, in case itworks.”
She dipped the linen into the milkand let it soak. Once it was dripping, she handed it to Glynnis. “Put it up toyour bairn’s mouth.”
The woman frowned at her.
