“Aye?”
“Baron Duthes begs a moment of your time.”
She lifted her gaze over his shoulder. The potbellied baron had left his men and now sat in a huge carved armchair that faced out into the great hall. ’Twas the seat upon which he heard petitions and meted out judgments each Thursday. Given the fat pair of birds hanging on his squire’s string, his mood should have been light. Instead, his lips were set in a thin line.
“Of course,” she said, swallowing hard. Gripping her satchel with tight fingers, she followed the wee lad across the hall.
As she neared, the baron favored her with a serious stare. He waved her toward the stool. “Sit, sit.”
Ana sat. Offering her a seat was a good sign, wasn’t it? “Can I be of some assistance, Baron?”
“I require clarification,” he said grimly. “Bébinn has given me her accounting of the day’s events. Now I would have yours.”
Ana’s heart knocked against her ribs.
Dear Lord
. Had the handmaiden already accused her of engaging in heathen rites? Was she being asked to explain the pendant? “Sir?”
“Why is my wife expelling blood?”
Relief poured through her body in a heady rush. He was merely concerned about Elayne. “Although frightening to see, sir, the blood in the baroness’s sputum was not of significant amount. An irritation of the throat, that is all. She ate well this eve, and I expect no blood tomorrow, even should she be unable to hold her meal.”
Fingering the jeweled silver collar of his station, he absorbed her words. “Bébinn believes the baroness’s health to be dire.”
“Does she?” Ana did not give the handmaiden the honor of her gaze. “I was unaware that she was trained as a healer. Perhaps you would prefer Bébinn tend your wife and not I?”
The baron glared. “Mistress, you overstep your bounds. Bébinn is my wife’s cousin, where you are but a stranger. I have every reason to take her word over yours. Were it not for the attestations of Auld Mairi’s two apprentices and the safe delivery of my piper’s bairn at Yule, I would never let you near the baroness.”
Ana bit her lip. Curse her quick tongue. “Please forgive my insolence. I only seek to keep the baroness in the best of health. She is not well—I do not deny that. Her inability to hold food in her belly and her weak blood threaten both her and the babe. But I know what I am about, and with my aid and God’s will, sir, they will both enjoy the summer weather when it arrives.”
His frown did not ease. “Each time you visit, she eats well. The moment you leave, she’s spewing the contents of her belly.”
“Because the usual fare does not suit her. She must eat very bland food.”
“And how are we to meet her needs without you present?”
Ana chose her words carefully. “I have given Bébinn a list of appropriate aliments.” At this juncture it would be unwise to tell him the handmaiden refused to spend any time in the kitchen coaching the cook.
“That is insufficient. Collect your things. You will move into the manor.”
And have Bébinn reporting on her every action?
Nay
. “I’ve other villagers under my care, Baron. And my husband returned from Aberdeen today.”
“So Constable Hurley informed me. How fortuitous.”
“Indeed,” she said, feeling another blush rise into her cheeks. Why did even the mildest thought of her faux husband warm her to the tips of her toes? She stood. “Sir, I feel I serve you and your tenants best by remaining in my bothy. But I’ll endeavor to visit the baroness more frequently—perhaps before each meal.”
Arms folded stiffly across his chest, his heavy brow lowered, he studied her.
It took every ounce of willpower Ana possessed not to look away.
Finally, he nodded. “You may remain in your bothy for now. But my wife and son are very dear to me, Goodhealer. Should you fail to keep them hale and hearty, my wrath will know no bounds. Do I make myself clear?”
His message was very difficult to
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