“Is there anything else you require?” Gannon asked.

Keeley shook her head. “Nay. Thank you for your aid. I have all I need.”

Gannon dipped his head in acknowledgment and then turned and left the chamber.

Relieved to have rid of most of the occupants of the chamber, Keeley wearily seated herself on the small stool next to Alaric’s bed. Mairin hovered at a distance, watching as Keeley carefully examined Alaric’s side.

She touched the long cut, frowning at how swollen and red it was. She closed her eyes and issued a curse under her breath.

“What’s wrong, Keeley?” Mairin demanded. “Is he worsening?”

Keeley opened her eyes and stared down at the inflamed wound. She sighed. “I need to reopen his wound to rid it of its poison. It’ll require cleaning and then I’ll have to stitch him up again. ’Tis no easy task, but it must be done.”

“Should I stay to assist you?”

Keeley eyed the slight woman and the bulge at her waist. Then she shook her head. “I’ve no wish for you to come to harm if Alaric becomes combative. ’Tis a better idea if one of his brothers is present in case there is need to hold him down.”

Mairin frowned and stared over at Alaric. “If he tries to fight, ’twill take more than one man to hold him. Perhaps I should call for Ewan and Caelen both.”

Keeley’s lips twisted in distaste. Mairin laughed softly. “Caelen is truly a good sort. I used to swear the man did nothing but frown. He’s really not so terrible once you’ve grown accustomed to his manner.”

“Manners? He has none,” Keeley muttered.

Mairin’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I like you, Keeley …” Then she frowned. “By what family name are you called?”

Keeley froze and refused to meet Mairin’s gaze. She could feel the other woman assessing her, probing her with her stare. She glanced down at her hands and twisted them in her lap.

“McDonald,” she whispered. “I used to be, but no more. Now I just call myself Keeley.”

“McDonald?” Mairin echoed. “Oh dear. I wonder, does Ewan know he’s stolen the healer from the clan Alaric was to be laird over?”

Keeley’s head snapped up. “Laird? But the McDonalds have a laird.” She should know. The bastard was directly responsible for her banishment. If something had happened to the worm, shouldn’t she know? Was she forever doomed to live on the outside of her family? Never welcomed to their hearth and into their fold?

Tears burned her lids and she’d be damned before she’d let a single one fall. The lot of them could rot, Gregor McDonald included. Especially Gregor McDonald.