“Arabella said to the overtaxed physicker as he tended the wounded men in the makeshift infirmary. “What?” the harried man said, with nary a glance at her. “You wanted mistletoe,” Arabella replied. “But you grabbed the jar with the whortleberry.” He looked down, his eyes widening with surprise. “So I did…” Arabella, who had spent the afternoon making bandages and tending to wounded men, pressed her lips together. She needed this distraction. Needed it very much, given the way her heart ached for... Malcolm. Given what he’d said about Davy making an honest woman of her. And she would be vexed if the physicker sent her away. “How did you know I wanted mistletoe?” the physicker asked. “Because the man you’re treating has gone into seizures,” she whispered, waiting for the inevitable accusation of witchcraft. Instead, the physicker nodded and went about his business, letting Arabella help him where she could, until her stomach was growling so loudly, he said, “Go to the kitchens and get yourself something to eat.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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