"You don't think it will infect?" I whisper awkwardly, seated on the edge of my bed. He glances at the open door, shaking his head.

"You'll be fine. Just wanted to get the blood off ye."

I smile as he hands me a cup. I look down at the liquid, seeing tea leaves. "Tea?"

"Chamomile. Should calm your nerves."

Something I'm familiar with. I nod, smiling softly. "Thank you, sir. You really didn't need to go through the work."

He sets down the rest of the chamomile into the bin and glances at me. "Aye, I did... Now, let me see your arm."

I lower the material on my shoulder, revealing the scratches and he walks over to the fire, lowering some cloth into the boiling water.

"Will ye tell me the truth- if I ask? As your physician?"

"Yes," I whisper, unsurely.

"Did he-?"

I swallow with difficulty, immediately shaking my head. "No, no... he didn't."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm- ... You know, what? I don't even know your name, I've just realized."

He reaches into the water, taking out the cloth with his bare hands and smiles, glancing over at me. "MacCallan Mackenzie- well, MacCallan Gordon Grant Mackenzie but most tend to find that a mouthful."

"It's beautiful," I whisper as he bends down before me, grabbing my arm. He presses the cloth to my shoulder, giving me ample time to gaze at his features, which are also- quite beautiful.

His hair, pulled back now is dark, a rather dark black and long- even in a ponytail, it ends at the edge of his shoulders. To make him even more unbelievable, his eyes are like clouds, stormy clouds- a dark grey hue to draw you in and they do, very easily.

I find him watching me, cautiously and I realize I've started to lean closer to him without even noticing it. Glancing down, I realize my dress has fallen considerably, exposing the curves of my breasts. My cheeks set on fire and I move back, clearing my throat as I pull it up. Looking down awkwardly, he backs up, straightening.

"Alright... Make sure ye drink the tea. It will help- I promise."

"I will, thank you, sir."

"Please, Callan, for ye. I'm not a formal man... I haven't got your name."

I chuckle, rolling my eyes at my loss of a brain, sticking out my hand without thinking. "Gillian Grant Clarke."

His creamy blue eyes flicker down to my outstretched hand in confusion but he nods, grabbing it anyway. I realize, stupidly, that women don't usually shake hands.

Grabbing the bins and his cap, he nods. "Well, I'll leave ye now. I've got a study in the castle, in case ye ever need anything. I'll only be here another three days before I set home to see my relatives but I'm sure we'll meet again."

Three days? I'm surprised at my reluctance to let him leave. He must notice because he smiles, kindly.

"I'm sure the man has been dealt with accordingly, miss. There's no need to worry- he willnae come here searchin' for ye... Just be careful, walking at night, especially when the men are crazed with drink."

I nod, holding the dress to my chest as he walks towards the open door. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Miss Gillian."

I close the door as soon as he exits, gently and lock the door, staring at the ground. My hands remain on the handle for a couple moments, paralyzed there before I move back, letting the events settle in.

I frown, removing the dress with ease, knowing it's not repairable. Such a beautiful gown...

I remove the layers underneath until I'm in nothing but my shift and glance around at the room. The fires dying out so I walk over to it, grabbing a log placed in a basket beside the monstrous stone.

I gasp, hearing a rough pound on the door. After a moment, I hear, "Gillian, open up."

Hearing Symon's voice, I sigh with relief and straighten, hurrying to the door. Pulling it open, I gasp, taking in his disheveled appearance. He's breathing heavy, sweating but smiling, wide.

"What happened to you?" I gasp, backing up to let him in. He enters, shaking his head.

"Someone had to take care of him."

"So, it was you?!" I breathe, gaping when he raises his shaking fists, knuckles coated in blood. "Is that yours or his?"

He observes it, frowning. "Not really sure."

"Sit down then. I've got something to clean them."

"I'm alright. I feel exhilarated- God, and it really proved to everyone what I can do... what I'm willing to do to secure the clan lands!"

I stare at him silently as he walks around the room, bounding around like a boxer that's just won the heavyweight championship, completely consumed with himself. "Sit down, Symon."

"Lachlan."

I close my eyes, nodding as he settles down onto the bed. "Right, Lachlan... It's turning out to be hard to remember that."

"You have to. I don't think they'd take it well to you calling me a different name, Gill."

I nod, swallowing. "... Who was the man?"

"Gifford Macintosh. I was told this wasn't his first- disturbance."

"Oh."

"You're alright though?"

I nod. "I'm fine. Leave it to me to shame myself in front of the entire clan on my first night."

"No, from what I saw, everyone already knew he was a scoundrel. And you're a pretty girl. I only heard sympathies toward you."

I smile, calmed by that. I would really like to dissolve that American whore persona as quick as I can.

"God, Gillian, if only you'd seen it..."

Wiping his hands with the sterilized cloth MacCallan left, I keep my face toward the ground.

"Who was that man- who took you up here, by the way?"

Turning, I take the now red cloth and set it onto the table by the fireplace, glancing into the flames. "His name is MacCallan- Mackenzie."

"Mackenzie?" he says, sounding shocked. "He wasn't the doctor, was he?"

"Yes, he is."

"Oh good, at least I know his face now. Did he mention anything about leaving?"

I turn, leaning against the wood. "Yes, to see his family. In three days."

"Okay, there's plenty of time to convince him otherwise then."

"Why do you need him to stay?"

"I've been told he's regarded as the best physician in the highlands. He's been here for months now, at a large expense to the previous laird."

"Your supposed father."

He nods, glancing at me. "Yes. It's important to get him to stay with Clan Chattan."

"I see..."

He stands at that and sighs, walking over to me. "Thank you- for nursing my wounds."

As he cups my neck, staring down at me, I press my lips together, smiling awkwardly. "Yeah, of course."

His lips press to mine for the first time in weeks and I freeze in his hands. Pulling back, he touches my hair. "Kiss me, Gillian."

"We... live in a different time now, Symon. If anyone were to know that we'd even had sex before, I'd be shamed to no repair."

He smiles heatedly. "No one would find out."

I shake my head, grabbing his hands, pulling them from my hair. "Symon, I can't take the chance."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying unless you plan on- on marrying me, I can't have a romantic relationship with you."

"Marry you?!"

I stare at him, unmoving. Marriage is the last thing on my mind as well- especially after Greer's warnings about his anger- but he is also the only person that knows who I truly am. The only person I wouldn't have to hide from.

I've got to be smart. I've got to secure my future. "I'd be your mistress if you didn't."

"We barely know each other, Gillian. And we fight half the time we're together!"

"I know. I'm just explaining to you that I cannot have sex with you unless we marry each other. That is the way of this world and I will abide by it."

He nods, swallowing. "I see..."

Caught in the inevitable awkward moment, I move out from the edge of the table and his dominating stance, I walk towards the fireplace, staring down at my hands.

"Your dress is see-through in this light," he whispers, causing me to look up at him again. He's staring blatantly at my body but after a long moment, he closes his eyes and walks to the door, shutting it firmly behind him, leaving me surrounded by silence and uncertainty.

...

"Ann, can you tell me something?" I murmur as she laces the corset to a blue dress, one of the many dresses brought up to my room this morning.

"Anything, miss."

"What am I supposed to do all day? Is there something that needs helping with? In the kitchen maybe?"

She clicks her tongue, smiling. "Och, no. You're a guest of the laird. Ye must not vex yourself with such things."

"So, what? I'm supposed to sit around?"

"Ye could take a stroll? See the marketplace? Call on some of the ladies?"

I look to the window, pressing my lips together. "Stroll it is, I guess."

...

I had hoped most were too drunk to remember the events of the night prior, but I, of course, had no such luck. Walking amongst the busy clansmen and women, I'm clearly the center of attention, present in their hushed whispers.

I remain courteous though, smiling at whoever dares to make eye contact with me, knowing the best way forward is to face the skepticism and uncertainty headfirst. It's not like I can go backwards- hide in my room and curl up into a ball.

Greer said I was here for a reason. What that is, I don't know. Who I'm supposed to meet... well that I also don't know but I'll be happy- eventually- and that is the comforting thought that keeps my face pleasant through the chill.

And through the rest of the week. My days pass slowly, and without much excitement. My mornings are fast, as I frequently spend them in the kitchen, with Ann as she's the only person here who I actually smile seeing but the afternoons drag, especially because with each passing day, Symon becomes more and more busy, leaving no time for us.

To my surprise, I don't mind it so much. I only worry that I'm falling into the background, too lowly to keep up with what's happening around me. I'm treated here as a guest, a lady, much better than most, but honestly, being with Ann and the help in the castle is where I feel most calmed.

Folding over the dough, my hands pasty and coated in white flour, I find my mind elsewhere, and even on a certain person- a man. The healer. Although I haven't spoken to him again, I still see him occasionally in town or around the castle. He's always busy, usually with books in hand, always in a hurry. While an admired man by men for his intelligence and healing capabilities, he's just as admired by the women for his unmistakable beauty.

The more I've watched him, the more I've grown accustomed to the little things he does like the way his jaw clenches when he's listening intently to someone, or the way his shoulders straighten back when he sits, even the way he ties his hair back with a ribbon before working over someone.

Even now, as my gaze boldly sets onto his face across the room, setting an ointment onto a young boy's leg, I feel a slight tug at my heartstrings. His natural smile is remarkably wide and free from all worry. You can tell when he's truly happy because if not, his lips lift, curving at the edges but unable to produce the deep dimples on his fair, clean-shaven skin.

He turns his head, laughing at something the boy said and his eyes lock with mine, for a brief moment before I tear my gaze from his, turning red as a beet.

"My lord, you're red," Ann chuckles, glancing over at me, coming back from her conversation with another one of the cooks. "Are ye feelin' alright?"

"Yes-yeah, I'm fine," I stutter, glancing up his way once more, to my shame. But I let out a low breath when I find him staring still, for only a moment before he turns around, quickly.

"Maybe ye should take a rest before supper?"

"I think I will," I whisper, swallowing, with a smile. I wipe my hands on the apron wrapped around my waist before I untangle the knot in the back and set it onto a stool in the corner of the massive, rather crowded room.

Tucking my hair behind my ears awkwardly, I try to remove the powder from my face before I bump into him. However, when I move around the people, he and the child are gone. I smile slightly, ashamed of how much I rely on seeing this man throughout my day- a man who has no idea who I even am.

Chuckling to myself, I turn the corner, set for my room. 

...

"Miss Gillian!"

I turn at the sound of a young boy's voice, who's running towards me, swerving through the crowds expertly. As he gets closer, I recognize him as Donald, the son to Allison, one of the kitchen maids.

"Yes?"

Breathing heavy, he sighs, holding his chest and smiles wide. "Lachlan is askin' for ye."

"Oh?" I frown slightly, unsure as to what this could be about. "Alright, I'll go now. Thank you, Donald."

I watch him run off, dropping my arms in reluctance.

"Ye look rather complicated, standin' here huffing and puffing." I turn, caught off guard by the soft intonation of the doctor's warm Scottish drawl. He folds his hands over another in front of his body, tilting his head to one side, smirking. "Anything I may help with?"

A deep blush flutters into my cheeks within moments, despite my efforts. "Uh, no. No, I'm fine, actually."

My god, his eyes are blue. "You're sure?"

"Mhm... yes, I mean, I've been called to see the laird- I don't really know why though."

"Ah, but I thought ye knew him well?"

"I do, well, sort of well, I guess..." I smile suddenly, realizing how stupid I sound. "I'm sorry, I'm not making much sense."

He shakes his head, humming with laughter. "I'm enjoying your presence, just the same."

Taken aback and highly pleased, I utter, "Enjoying my presence?"

"Aye."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it... It seems like every time we're in the same room, you disappear on me."

My heart is beating wildly, for a reason that's unknown to me. I'm flirting openly with this man, something I've never done in my life.

He raises his brows and laughs again, looking surprised. "You're rather observant, aren't ye?"

I bite my lip, smiling wide and nod. "Maybe- when it comes to you."

Turning, I clutch my empty basket tighter for strength and turn back towards the castle, aware of his strong gaze on my back. With a backward glance, as I step onto the stone entrance, I turn back to where he was standing, expecting him to be gone.

But he's not. Setting mounds of hay onto a wagon with the other men, I watch him turn away from where I'm standing, smirking slightly to begin helping the men again.

And I feel the first flicker of something that may resemble- hope.