Lady Miracle by Susan King Page B

mean to hire your services. What is the current fee charged by physicians in Perth? A few shillings for a visit, or a retainer of several pounds a year?”
    She blinked at him. “Fee?”
    “Fee,” Diarmid said.
    Mungo looked back. “I heard that King Robert pays an Edinburgh apothecary seven pounds a year to tend to him,” he said. “That is a high fee, but Dunsheen Castle has plenty of work for a physician.” He turned away.
    “Seven pounds Scots a year then,” Diarmid said, sounding satisfied. “Do you want it all in one sum, or in portions?”
    “Seven pounds a year!” she exclaimed.
    “Not enough? Eight, then, for whatever part of a year you stay in order to complete the task,” Diarmid said. “That is very generous of me. It should take you only a few moments, after all.”
    She thought he teased her, but she could not tell, for he kept his eyes on the dark moonlit path ahead. She glanced from one man to the other. “Mungo, what do you mean by saying that there is plenty of work for a physician? Is there a hospital near Dunsheen?”
    “One might think so,” Mungo drawled.
    ” Ach ,” Diarmid growled, and sent Mungo a sour glance before looking at Michaelmas. “I have one healing task for you,” he said. “More, if you want. And I will pay whatever you ask.”
    “I told you I cannot—”
    “And I will take you wherever you wish to go when it is done. Is it agreed?”
    “But what you want of me cannot be done.”
    “I told him the same,” Mungo said helpfully. “We’ve all told him to accept that the child is lame for life, but Dunsheen is a stubborn man and will listen to no one.”
    “Mungo, shut your mouth, my friend, and let me talk to the woman myself.” Diarmid looked at Michaelmas. “What is it you want in return?”
    She gaped at him. “Want? You have taken me away against my will, in the dark of the night, with no one the wiser, and with nothing but the clothes I wear.”
    “Then you must want for something,” he said reasonably.
    She shifted her shoulders, still trapped beneath the folds of the plaid. “My freedom.”
    He tipped his head politely. “You are not a prisoner. You are an employed physician.”
    She sighed. Each step the horses took brought her closer to the unknown. She lacked even a fresh gown. If Diarmid Campbell truly meant to take her to his home to act as a physician there, then, without her chest of belongings, she also lacked the practical means to use her skills.
    “My books and my instruments are at Saint Leonard’s. I need them,” she said, and lifted her chin high. “You took me out of there, and so you can go back to fetch what I left behind.’”
    “You will not need charts and tools,” Diarmid said.
    “I need them,” she insisted, “and you must get them for me. I can hardly go back myself, for as you have pointed out, there may be danger there.” She hoped that he would turn and ride back; she thought she could persuade Mungo to let her go.
    ” Ach, she speaks like a ban-righ , a queen.” Mungo tipped his head in admiration.
    Diarmid looked intently at Michaelmas. “Is it part of your fee that these things be fetched?”
    She watched him warily, certain that she had little chance of gaining her freedom. But if she agreed to tend to his child, she would need the information contained in her books and notes. And Ibrahim’s volumes had great value to her, both personally and in terms of her profession; if her possessions remained at the hospital, the town physicians would take them for themselves.
    Besides, she had no choice. The books were irreplaceable. “Indeed, it is part of my fee.”
    He nodded and turned. “Mungo.”
    Mungo sighed. “I know, I know. Women must have their things,” he said, sounding resigned. “Where are these books that you cannot do without, Mistress Michael the Physician?”
    “In my cell,” she said. “There are books, instruments and clothing in a large wooden chest.”
    “All that?” Mungo looked