At first, he said nothing, then he sighed as he crouched near her, his presence heavy at her side. “Ye could have sent a maid. Instead, ye wander the woods alone, forgetting ye are the lady of a clan now.”
Lily looked up at him. “I have a duty to me patients. That comes before any title, do ye understand me? I willnae let a man die because I was too fine to dirty me hands.”
Alasdair’s jaw tightened, but then he nodded. “Fine.”
She turned back to the ground and pulled another root. When she noticed that he had not left, she turned to him again and sighed. “Why are ye still here?”
“Ye may have a duty to yer patients, but I have a duty to ye,” he responded, the cockiness in his voice thicker than the smell of the damp earth.
Her breath caught, but she tried to mask it with a scoff. “I can take care of meself, thank ye very much. Ye may leave.”
He leaned closer, his voice low. “If ye think I will leave ye out here on yer own, ye are sorely mistaken.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Because ye daenae trust me?”
“Nay,” he said simply. “Because I daenae trust the woods.” Then, he tilted his head up, gesturing to the heavy clouds. “And the sky tells me it will rain.”
“Oh, it told ye, did it nae?”
“Make fun of me all ye like.”
She shrugged. “It always looks like it will rain, but it hardly ever does.”
His mouth curved, teasing. “Then think of me as yer guardian angel. Wherever ye go, I go.”
Lily made a face, trying to suppress a smile of her own. If she had to be honest, she was relieved it was him. Of course she would never admit that out loud. “If ye are nae leaving, then make yerself useful,” she said instead.
She shoved the small woven basket at his chest. He took it, a smile still tugging at his lips, and followed her like a shadow. She bent near a clump of leaves and pulled gently at a root that smelled sharp and clean.
“This helps with nausea. Headaches, too,” she stated.
She didn’t even know why she was telling him these things. Was it because she enjoyed speaking with him, no matter how much she tried to think otherwise?
She shuddered at the thought.
“Really?” he asked.
She gave a brief nod. “Aye. It calms the body.”
Alasdair furrowed his brow. “How much of it can ye use? All of it, or only the tip?”
She blinked at him, startled by the question. “Only the tip. The rest holds too much strength, and it could turn the stomach rather than soothe it.”
He nodded, studying the root as if it were a weapon he meant to wield. She found herself staring at him, surprised that he had listened so closely. She handed him the root, and he put it gently in the basket.
Her eyes drifted then to his thigh. The bandage was still there, stretched tight around his leg. She saw the mark of his healing wound and noticed that the surrounding skin was no longer red, but pale.
“It looks well,” she murmured. “The scar will be fine.”
“Aye,” he said. His hand brushed his thigh. “I bet it will look lovely when it fully heals.”
Lily gave a faint smile. “Like yer other scars?”
His lips parted, his eyes glinting with mischief, and she raised her hand at once.
“Daenae say it. Daenae even try.”
His lips curled into a smirk, and he remained silent, but the look in his eyes was enough.
