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dried herbs, crumbling them into a stone mortar. She smashed the herbs with the pestle, grinding the stone mortar until the helpless plants became dust.
    Before other plants could fall victim to her ire he asked, ‘What happened to your husband? I heard you married.’
    She added melted fat to the herbs, mixing it into a thick paste. Her hands moved in a rhythmic motion before she answered at last, ‘Eachan died a few moons ago.’
    Connor had not known Eachan well, but none had ever spoken an unkind word about the man. Grief shadowed Aileen’s face, and he regretted his earlier words. ‘I am sorry to hear of it.’
    When she made no reply, he added, ‘I imagine you have your children to bring you comfort?’ He kept a questioning note in the remark, for he did not know for certain.
    ‘I have a daughter,’ she said. After a moment of hesitation she added, ‘She is being fostered with another family.’
    Connor forced himself to concentrate on the conversation at hand. His vision swam and he struggled to stay awake. ‘Did you have any sons?’
    ‘I lost several babes,’ she said, making him wish he hadn’t brought it up. Aileen busied herself with putting the herbal ointment away, and then she set the pot upon the peat fire to boil water.
    ‘When my husband Eachan was alive, we fostered many children,’ she offered. ‘Lorcan was among them.’ Disappointment darkened her face. ‘I was not allowed to keep him once Eachan died.’ She sprinkled herbs into a wooden cup and filled it with boiling water to make a tea. ‘I wish I could have. He was a comfort to me.’
    He could understand that. His youngest brother Ewan had come home six years ago, after his foster-father was killed in battle.
    ‘Do my brothers know I am here?’ Connor asked.
    ‘We sent for them, yes. But it will take days for the message to arrive and days more for them to come.’ She cast him a look.
    Connor had no desire to be paraded across the countryside in a litter. ‘What if I wished to stay?’
    ‘I thought you did not believe in my healing skills.’
    He hesitated, for it was true. And yet he saw no alternative.
    ‘I would prefer to remain in Banslieve until I regain my strength.’
    Aileen turned her back, busying herself with her herbs again. She had wanted to heal him, to prove to the people that she could save Connor’s life. But would it be enough? They would only see the terrible damage done to his hands.
    She shook the errant thoughts away. Saving his life wasn’t enough. To prove herself, she needed to bring him back to his former strength.
    Doubts undermined her confidence. She had treated broken bones before, but nothing like this. Her heart warned her that she would almost certainly fail. How could a man with crushed bones grasp a sword again, much less use it?
    ‘Aileen,’ he murmured, ‘I don’t want the others to see me like this.’ His eyes were glazed with exhaustion. He held up the splinted hands.
    ‘You won’t have a choice. Seamus will demand that you come and stay with them.’ Were it not for a raid, the chieftain would have been here already. The Faelain tribe had stolen nearly a dozen cattle, and Seamus had gone with his men to steal them back again.
    ‘And I’ll refuse,’ he said firmly. ‘I’d rather my foster-father remember me as I was.’
    ‘You speak as though you’re dead.’
    His face dimmed. ‘Perhaps I am.’ He closed his eyes, no longer resisting the heaviness of the sleeping draught. As his chest rose and fell, she drew nearer. She lifted a coverlet over his bare chest. The bandages remained dry; no blood seeped from the cuts.
    His flesh was warm and firm, a body honed to fight the enemy. He needed her skills. She understood his desire to stay and rebuild what had been lost.
    Softly, she murmured goodnight and rose to her feet. Outside the small hut, she leaned against the wicker framing. She covered her cheeks with her hands, filling her lungs with the crisp night air.
    What was