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the next patient, a boy of perhaps eight. His leg was propped up on the bench, his face flushed with pain.
    “David, miss,” his mother said. “He got knocked from the pier by the squid this afternoon and I think his ankle’s broke.”
    “Let’s have a look.” Geneva peeled back the shawl covering the boy’s leg and studied the bent and swollen ankle. “Yes, it certainly does look as if it’s broken.”
    “Will he be able to walk again?” Tears leaked down the mother’s face.
    “I’ll do my best. I’d like to give him a few drops of laudanum. This is going to hurt something awful when I set the bone. Alice, can you prepare a splint?”
    “Already working on it,” Alice said. “Here’s the laudanum and a spoon.”
    Geneva carefully measured the dose. On such a young child, the stuff could be deadly. After she’d given the medicine a few moments to work, she set the broken ankle and bound it tightly in the splint. “No walking on that at all for at least six weeks.”
    The huge oaken door to the castle slammed open. Two women, one in her forties and one perhaps twenty-five, stood in the entry way. The younger, a stunningly beautiful brunette, screamed, “What is the meaning of this?”
    Rannulf left Alice’s side to confront the two women. “We brought someone to help the wounded. Not that it’s anything to you.”
    The older one, still attractive although her hair was streaked with gray, shoved Rannulf back. “I am the healer for Torkholm. How dare you bring some foreign slut to take my place?”
    “I wasn’t aware that Edinburgh is considered a foreign country.” Geneva stood and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the intruders, her body blocking her young patient from them. “If you’re skilled and want to help, by all means do so. I’m not interested in taking over your position.”
    “You? Ha!” The younger woman spat. “We don’t help the likes of you, and we don’t need you here, either. Leave now, before the island itself curses your very bones.”
    Geneva felt the air for magick, and found a trace. The healers had some power, it seemed. On the off chance that they could truly curse her, she tried to remain polite. “As I said, I’m only here to help. I’m leaving tomorrow at first light.”
    “Ye’ll be gone now. ” The older woman’s hands clenched into claws.
    “You’re too busy already, Edda,” one man called. “Those of us you don’t like are last in line. I’ve waited three days for you to see me. Be off, and leave the doctor to do her work.”
    “Doctor? Is that what they’re calling whores nowadays?” The older woman sneered.
    A child in the crowd began to cry, and something in Geneva snapped.
    “I don’t give a damn what you think of me.” She advanced on the women until she stood toe-to-toe with the younger. “You’re disturbing my patients. Get out of this room. Right. Now.” She poked the woman’s shoulder with each of the last two words before turning to Rannulf. “Get rid of them.”
    “Aye, Doctor.” He grinned broadly and began to peel the older woman’s fingertips from the door jamb, to her screeching fury.
    “I’ll go,” spat the younger. Her blue eyes glared daggers at Geneva. “Know this. Keep your hands off my fiancé. Touch him, and I’ll kill you myself.” On that, she whirled and left.
    Geneva shook her head and returned to her patients, forcing down her anger. Did she mean the laird? Was Magnus really betrothed to that shrew? She pitied him more for that than for his shattered hip.
    * * *
    Magnus heard his angel’s voice again. Who had his men brought in to tend him? Someone from the mainland. Her accent was all wrong for the Hebrides. Or was he still where he’d been before? Had he only dreamed the journey home and the battle that had greeted him on his return?
    “Magnus?” This time he knew the voice.
    “Rannulf?” His lips unglued before his eyelids did. A few seconds later he managed to blink, and the face