Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was a most revealing one: she wished Alec would come to bed. Heaven help her, she was falling in love with the barbaric Scotsman.

I see the way Alec keeps glancing over at the screen. The English bitch has him wanting her already. Was his love for Helena so shallow he can replace her so easily?

He doesn't remember the lesson. Perhaps he has already given his heart to his bride. God, I hope so. Her death will be all the more painful then.

I won't wait to kill her.

The whispers awakened Jamie. She was disoriented at first. The candles were burning still, casting shadows that danced along the screen. Jamie stared at the dark reflections a long minute before she remembered where she was.

The whispers brushed through the air again. She strained to catch a word or two, and when she'd managed that feat, she was wide awake and trembling with fear.

Oh, she understood the words now. It was the holy sacrament of extreme unction she was listening to, the sacred rite for a departing soul.

They must have found Angus. Jamie made a hasty sign of the cross, put on her robe, and went to offer her own prayers. She knew she was considered an outsider, but she was Alec's wife all the same. Wasn't it her duty to stand by her husband when he said his farewell to his friend?

Alec didn't hear her approach. Jamie stood behind his back, watching while the priest read the holy rite.

The body had been placed on the table opposite the one in front of the screen.

The old priest, dressed in requiem vestments of black with purple trim, stood at one end of the table. He had gray hair, a complexion to match, and spoke in a voice graveled with sadness.

Alec stood at the opposite end of the long table. Soldiers of varying rank filled the spaces between. Anna, Edith, and another woman Jamie guessed was Elizabeth, stood near the hearth.

Jamie's heart went out to the grieving woman. She could see the tears streaming down Elizabeth's face. The woman didn't make a sound, though, a fact that made Jamie admire her all the more. Under similar circumstances, she'd probably be wailing uncontrollably.

She peeked around her husband to get a better look at the man they were mourning.

At first she thought he was dead. Jamie was used to seeing injuries of every sort, and for that reason she barely blanched over the horrible sight before her. There was blood everywhere, or so it appeared to her at first notice. Jamie couldn't tell how much was bluster, though, and how much was real damage. A large curved gash took up a fair portion of the warrior's chest. His lower left arm was broken, too, near the wrist, but it looked like a clean break to her.

He was a battle-scarred man with rugged features and dark brown hair. A large welt had made his brow swell up, giving him a grotesque appearance. Jamie stared at the bump a long while, wondering if that was the blow that had caused his death.

The dead man suddenly grimaced. It was an ever-so-slight movement she would have missed if she hadn't been watching him so intently.

A spark of hope was ignited in her mind. She concentrated on the way the warrior was breathing. It was a mite shallow, she decided, yet true as a rooster's. A good sign, that, for there was usually a rattle shivering through the air when death came stalking his prey.

The truth still took her by surprise. Angus wasn't dying …yet.

The priest was taking forever to finish his prayers. Jamie didn't want to wait.

The man they were mourning would surely catch a fever and die before morning unless she could take care of his injuries.

Jamie reached up to tap Alec's shoulder. He immediately turned around, then moved to block her view of the wounded soldier. He didn't look overly happy to see her.

"It's Angus?" she whispered.

Alec nodded. "Go back to bed, Jamie."

"He isn't dead."

"He's dying."

"No, I don't think he is, Alec."

"Go to bed."

"But Alec-"

"Now."

The harshness in his command worried her. Jamie turned around and slowly walked back to her bed. She was already listing the items she would need to help Angus.

When she returned to her husband, her arms were filled with her precious medicine jars. She had tucked a long needle and sturdy thread into one pocket of her robe. Three white stockings dangled from her other pocket. Jamie was determined to do what she could to save the warrior, with or without her husband's cooperation. She only hoped Alec wouldn't make too much of a fuss before he gave in.

He was going to have to give in, though, and that was that.

The priest gave the final blessing and knelt down. Alec motioned to his men, turned, and very nearly knocked Jamie to the floor. He instinctively reached out to steady her.

He was bloody furious with her. The look on his face said as much. So did his hard grip on her shoulders. Jamie took a deep breath, then blurted out, "In England we have a rather quaint custom, Alec. We don't mourn a man until he's dead, and we don't call for our priest until we're sure he's dying." She'd certainly gained his full attention with that statement. "Alec, you cannot know for certain that Angus is dying. Let me see to his injuries. If God is determined to have him now, nothing I do will make any difference." She shrugged his hands away while she waited for his answer. It was a long time in coming.

Alec was looking at her as though she'd just lost her mind. Jamie tried to move to his side, but he blocked her view once again. "There's blood."

"I saw it."

"Blood makes you sick."

"Alec, where do you get your ideas?"

He didn't answer that challenge. "It will not make me sick."

"If you get ill, I'll be very displeased with you."

And if his voice turned any harsher, it would probably cause lightning to strike, Jamie thought. "I'm going to take care of him, husband, with or without your permission. Now get out of my way."

He didn't budge, but his eyes had widened over her sharp command. Jamie thought he might be considering strangling her. She decided then that ordering him about wasn't the right approach. "Alec, did I tell you how to fight those bandits who attacked us on our way here?"

He thought that question was too ridiculous to answer. Jamie answered for him.

"No, of course I didn't. I don't know anything about fighting, husband, but I do know a bloody lot about healing. I'm going to help Angus and that's that. Now please move out of my way. Your friend is in terrible pain."

It was her last remark that gained his cooperation. "How can you know he's in pain?"

"I saw him grimace."

"You're certain?"

"Very certain."

The fierceness in her tone amazed him. Before his eyes she was turning into a tigress. "Do what you can."

Jamie let out a weary sigh as she hurried to the table. She placed her jars near one corner, then bent over Angus to study his injuries. The warriors all returned to the table. They looked outraged. Alec thought he might have a rebellion on his hands. He folded his arms across his chest and slowly scanned his audience, for one and all had turned to look at him now. They were obviously waiting to see what he was going to do about his wife's disrespectful interference.

Jamie didn't pay any attention to the soldiers. She gently prodded the edges of the welt on Angus's forehead. She studied his chest wound next.

"'Tis just as I suspected," she said.

"The damage?" Alec asked.

Jamie shook her head. There was a smile in her voice when she said, "It's mostly bluster."

"Bluster?"

"Meaning it looks worse than it really is," Jamie explained.

"He isn't dying?"

The priest asked that question. The old man struggled to his feet, wheezing from the effort. He stared at Jamie with a frown as fierce as any she'd ever seen.