The Bewitching Twin (3 page)

R
ogan woke with a start from a dream that haunted him less frequently of late. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed, stretching his arms over his head. He missed his wife Kendra, gone two years now, and a son who had never taken a breath.

He ran his fingers through his tousled hair before shaking the sad memories from his head.

Aliss.

She was why he had dreamed of his family. Her presence had brought back memories. He and Kendra had spent many an hour talking at the table, she always challenging his opinion, making him see reason when anger blinded him. He had loved her very much, but she would have been the one to argue that life goes on. Kendra would have reminded him that no matter the hurt, the disappointment, the grief, life continued and so did love.

So he went on, knowing that was what Kendra would expect of him.

He dressed in black leggings and a tan shirt, and hooked a wide black leather belt around his waist. He was ready to speak with Aliss and see if she had determined anything pertinent concerning the persistent illness that plagued the village.

A bed had been set up for her in the other room, but as he entered, he was surprised to discover it empty. When had she left and why hadn’t she woken him?

Perhaps Aliss had taken shelter in someone’s home last night, too tired to return to his cottage. Otherwise, it meant that she had worked throughout the night.

He left in haste. The village was just waking for the day, the sun having dawned barely an hour ago. He spotted John and Anna strolling hand in hand and walked over to them.

“Have you seen Aliss?” he said instead of offering a greeting.

“She is with Ivan,” John said. “He does not fare well.”

Rogan nodded and headed to Ivan’s home. His annoyance subsided as his walk turned brisk. Ivan was a man who had seen many battles and survived each one. He lived with his daughter and son-in-law and their four children. He had been ill on and off. Recently, he had been more ill than ever.

Aliss was spooning a liquid into Ivan’s mouth when Rogan entered the cottage. She spoke softly to the old man, and when she finished, she rubbed his forehead and then patted his hand before holding it and continued to speak gently, though firmly, to him.

“You are not dying. I will not let you.”

“It is my time,” Ivan said.

“It is not and I will not hear you say that again.”

Ivan took firm hold of her hand. “Are you an angel come to redeem me?”

“I am a healer who has come to make you well.”

Ivan nodded, his eyes closing. “I trust you.”

“Good, for it will make a difference,” Aliss said, then placed his hand on his chest as Ivan had fallen asleep.

Rogan watched her roll her shoulders back as if attempting to ease the soreness from her joints. Then she yawned wide, her hand rushing to cover her mouth.

He walked over to her and she turned her head toward him as he approached.

“I need to talk with you,” she said in a whisper and cast a glance toward Ivan.

He understood that she did not wish to disturb the patient and he grabbed her healing basket at her feet and stepped aside, indicating he would follow her.

She nodded with a smile that turned to another yawn as she quietly left the cottage. She stopped to speak with Myra, Ivan’s daughter, and after a brief exchange, Aliss left the cottage.

Rogan had retrieved her cloak and once outside he draped it over her shoulders. “The early morning holds a chill.”

She turned sleepy eyes on him. “It feels refreshing.”

He had the intense urge to scoop her up in his arms and cart her off to bed—to sleep. She looked exhausted.

“We must talk.”

He was anxious to hear any news regarding the illness. “Tell me over breakfast.”

She yawned. “I am too tired to eat and I must get a few hours’ rest before seeing to the other ailing villagers.”

“You need—”

“For you to listen to me,” she finished.

He remained silent, keeping pace with her slow strides.

“The villagers I have examined thus far all have the same complaints. They suffer intense stomach pain and they can hold no food down. What puzzles me is that they grow ill and then seem to improve only to grow ill again and again, while some succumb to the illness.”

“Can you heal them?”

She sighed. “I hope so, though it may take time. I really do need to rest now.”

“Are you sure you do not want to eat first?”

Aliss shook her head. “I am too tired.”

She almost stumbled when they neared his cottage and his hand was quick to steady her. Her skin was warm and soft, the sleeves of her blouse having been rolled up. And for an instant he thought he felt her ready to drop into his arms, but then it seemed she caught herself and regained her composure.

“You need rest. You will be good to no one if you do not take care of yourself,” he warned.

“Do not worry. I will do what you brought me here to do—but I will do it
my way.
”

He grabbed her arm, jolting her to a stop. “I rule here.”

Her green eyes sparked. “I heal here.”

“Rogan!”

The frantic shout had them both turning.

“Derek has fallen ill,” John said.

Aliss looked to Rogan. “A friend?”

“A good friend.”

“Let us hurry.”

Rogan went straight to Derek’s bedside upon entering the cottage. “You were always one for finding a way out of work.”

“Someone needed to teach you to have fun,” Derek said with effort.

Aliss nudged Rogan away from the bed.

“She is a good healer.” Rogan said, remaining behind her and wanting to assure his friend that he would be all right.
He
wanted to know that Derek would be all right, though seeing him so deathly pale and weak when he was a man near to Rogan’s own size worried him.

“I knew you would not fail the village.” Derek took a fortifying breath. “When others grumbled about your not returning, I argued that you would be back. I would—”

“You will be quiet,” Aliss ordered with a gentle smile and a firm tone.

“You, my lovely lass, are a beauty and your touch angel soft. How lucky am I.”

Rogan grinned, glad to hear Derek attempting as usual to charm a lady, which certainly indicated he was not at death’s door.

He watched with interest the way Aliss tenderly cared for his friend. As she discussed his ailments with him, she gently pressed her palm to his forehead; her slim fingers probed the area around his eyes with a featherlike touch and then it appeared as if she stroked the flesh beneath his jaw.

Derek responded to her touch with a smile and to her questions with his usual charm. Rogan did not think there was a woman alive who did not fall under Derek’s spell, even when he was sick.

Aliss smiled and laughed at Derek’s responses. They appeared more a couple sharing an intimate talk than a woman attempting to heal an ailing man.

“It is good you keep a smile and do not surrender entirely to your illness,” Aliss said.

“I cannot mend too fast when I have such a beautiful healer to look after me,” Derek said with a grin, then suddenly gripped his stomach in pain.

Aliss placed her hand over his where he held his belly.

“I will give you something to ease the pain.”

He sighed in relief. “You are an angel.”

Aliss mixed a powder in hot water and stirred until it dissolved. “The potion will also make you sleep.”

“Anything not to feel this pain.”

“How long have you suffered with it?” she asked.

“A few hours, though discomfort preceded it.”

Rogan listened as Aliss probed for more information. He had heard the same complaints from everyone for the last six months and his frustration returned. He could do nothing to help his people, nothing but find them a skilled healer.

After Derek was settled, his eyes nearly closed, Rogan and Aliss left the cottage.

“I will eat now and then rest,” she said, rolling her shoulders back as she walked.

“Have you learned anything about this illness my people battle?”

“It is too soon to say. I need time to see if the potions I give them are effective.”

He shook a fist to the heavens. “If I could see my enemy I would deal him a blow that would have him running.” He threw his hands up. “But this enemy I cannot see. I know nothing about him. He attacks my people silently, without warning, and disposes of them one by one. How do I fight an invisible foe?”

Rogan did not expect an answer. He did not believe there was one.

They sat at the table already prepared with food and Rogan saw to it that Aliss’s plate was filled. She looked too weary to tend to herself and yet she looked lovely. Her beauty had startled him when he first saw her and her exquisite features continued to intrigue him. Her creamy flawless skin was a perfect backdrop for her radiant green eyes and long red lashes. Her plump lips were rosy and her nose pert and they were framed by a mass of fiery red hair that refused to behave in an orderly fashion.

“Derek made mention that he defended your absence and assured the doubtful of your return,” Aliss said.

The shattering of the silence startled him, and he gave a quick nod.

“You were gone long from the village?”

“Yes,” he said.

“In search of?”

“You.”

“Why me?” she asked. “There are other healers.”

He had expected curiosity from her or was it defined answers she searched for? He had heard she was the quiet twin, less likely to argue or challenge, interested only in her healing. He had counted on her intense interest in her work to keep her from delving any further into the reasons for her abduction. But she was far more curious than he had anticipated and he would have to be very careful dealing with her.

“You are far more skilled.”

“Who told you this?”

He shrugged. “Gossip, wagging tongues.”

She did not look convinced.

“True or not, I had to take the chance.”

“Had you tried other healers? What of your own healer? I have yet to meet her.”

“She succumbed to the illness months ago.”

“I am sorry,” Aliss said and looked ready to continue her interrogation.

Rogan quickly leaned over the table, his face near hers. “You are our only hope.”

Anna rushed into the room. “The healer is needed. Tara’s babe has taken ill.”

Aliss scurried off the bench, grabbed her basket by the door, and hurried after Anna.

Rogan sat where he was, elbow on the table, his head resting in his hand, staring at the flames in the hearth.

“You
will
heal my people, Aliss. The prophetess predicted it.”

A
liss managed to grab a couple of hours’ sleep before she woke to Anna shaking her shoulder. Ivan had grown worse and Myra, his daughter, feared death was imminent.

The old man was weak yet not at death’s door and she would do her best to keep that door closed to him. She had ordered a special broth prepared and for him to be fed with it at regular intervals, like a newborn who needed constant nourishment.

She had visited with several other villagers; their symptoms mimicked the others’. She had realized soon enough that she needed to study the symptoms and see if she could make sense of them before she could find a way to conquer the malady.

After having seen to all those who were ailing and made sure they rested comfortably, Aliss needed to search the surrounding woods and fields to see what herbs and plants were available to her. The activity would also serve another purpose. She would seek the help of some of the women in her search and befriend them, thus giving her a chance to find out all she could about her abduction.

Aliss chose a good-sized basket from the ones stacked in the corner near the fireplace. She grabbed the dark red wool cloak from the peg near the door and flung it around her shoulders as she hurried outside.

The sky had become overcast in the last hour, causing a slight chill to the spring air and hinting at rain. She would forage for her plants until she felt the first raindrop.

“Where do you go?” John asked.

Aliss was not surprised by his presence, for she had noticed that he always lurked nearby. “To see if one of the women would join me in the woods to search for healing plants.”

“That is not a good idea right now.”

Though small in stature and with average features that drew little attention, John still demanded notice. His strong presence and sharp mind made people aware of him and had earned him the respect of the clan Hellewyk. Of course, they had thought him a cleric.

“Why is that?” Aliss asked as John approached her.

“Rogan prefers you remain near.”

She almost laughed but thought better of it. “Does he fear I would try to escape? Where would I go?”

“It is not where you would go. It is who might take you.”

This time she chuckled. “He worries that the healer he abducted will be abducted?”

John did not find her response humorous. “You are under the Wolf’s protection now. You can hunt for plants another time.”

She did not wish to argue. “No, I cannot. I need to make certain I have a sufficient supply of healing plants. Is there no one who could accompany me?”

John ran an apprehensive glance around the surrounding area. “I need to remain here right now.”

“Is something wrong?”

He appeared uncertain, purposely holding his tongue.

“A sensible explanation might change my plans.”

He yielded. “A band of marauders have sacked a farmland not far from here. Rogan set chase after them and has ordered everyone to remain in the village.”

“A wise edict.”

John seemed surprised by her response.

“I can be sensible when reason prevails. I will consult with Rogan to see when he feels it safe for me to enter the woods.”

“Till then?”

“I have much to occupy me. You need not worry,” she assured him.

He cast an anxious glance toward a small cottage tucked near the woods, smoke puffing from the single chimney.

“Anna waits for you?”

He sighed. “We have missed each other.”

“Go to her then and make up for lost time.”

“I am to look after you,” he reluctantly admitted.

“I will be tilling the soil for a garden unless I am called to tend the sick.”

His shoulders slumped. “I should help you.”

“Nonsense,” she said and shooed him away. “Go. I am particular how my garden is tilled and tended.”

“Rogan would expect me to help,” he said, slowly stepping away from her.

“I will deal with Rogan.”

He grinned. “Are you sure of that?”

She crossed her arms. “You should be worried about Rogan dealing with
me
.”

His grin faded. “Do not underestimate the Wolf. He can strike when least expected.”

“I will keep that in mind,” she said, and when John turned and walked away gooseflesh crept over her skin.

While Aliss preferred not to be acquainted with that side of Rogan, she knew she had no choice. Fiona would remind her that ignorance of an enemy would guarantee defeat. She would need to understand Rogan, whether she wanted to or not, whether she feared to or not.

She returned the basket to where she had found it, switched from her cloak to her shawl, and found a large tan cloth she fashioned into an apron to protect the only garments she possessed. Then she determined the best area for a garden, and after finding a pick, she began to till the soil.

She loved the scent of freshly dug earth. It stung the nostrils like an intoxicating perfume. She piled the rocks she unearthed for later use and continued to enjoy her laborious task. She wanted the rich soil ready to receive the few seeds she had in her healing basket and the plants she hoped to acquire on her foraging expedition.

Aliss stretched her back, easing her aching muscles, when finally she stood at the end of the large plot she had worked on for several hours. The first drop of rain had struck with the last turn of the soil. She was proud of her accomplishment and relieved that she would have a bed to receive the much-needed batch of healing plants.

She turned, ready to seek shelter, when out of the corner of her eye she caught a quick-moving shadow. Uncertain if it was her imagination playing tricks on her or someone actually loitered in the woods, she pretended to finish the already completed job while keeping an eye on the shadows that appeared to dance like demons among the trees.

Then like a flash of lightning she caught two glowing orbs burning bright green between the leaves of a low-hanging branch.

Wolf’s eyes?

She could not be sure and the thought that it could be someone else, not Rogan, stalking her, sent her into a fright. One abduction in two days was enough; she needed no more, and besides, she had struck a bargain with Rogan. She was not going anyplace but home.

The urge to run grabbed hold of her, but common sense warned that if she took flight she would alert the predator and he would give chase. She gathered her few items, added a stone to use as a defense weapon, and casually backed away.

Her eyes remained fixed on the woods, her hand gripped the stone; she was ready for combat if necessary.

A clap of unexpected thunder caused her to jump, her heart to leap, and her legs to take flight. She turned on a run, her foot catching on a large rock that caused her to lose her balance and topple like a felled tree.

The dark soil rushed up to meet her face and she braced for impact when suddenly she was scooped up and swiftly spun around to land in Rogan’s powerful arms.

He glared at her with knitted brow. “Why do you run?”

She cupped a hand over her fisted hand that clenched the stone. “I saw something in the woods.”

His head did not immediately turn in that direction; instead, his eyes slowly perused the area as he spoke. “What did you see?”

“Eyes like that of the beast you wear on your shoulder.” He wore no beast now, though.

His glance came back to rest on her. “Are you certain?”

“I know what I saw,” she said adamantly.

“It was probably the headdress of a clansman who dutifully protects our boundaries.”

“The eyes were too bright, too—” She hesitated, finding her own thought disturbing. “Too unearthly.”

“And the stone your hand grips? Did you think it a good defense against an unearthly creature?”

Aliss raised her fisted hand. “It is better than nothing.”

Another thunderclap had her realizing that the misty rain had turned heavy and that she was getting wet.

Rogan appeared to think the same for he hurried them into his cottage, placing her on her feet once they were through the front door.

“My healing basket,” she said, starting to go back out into the rain.

Rogan grabbed her arm and pulled her back inside. “I will get it.”

She looked at his hand that gripped her, felt the heat of his touch seeping into her; the potency of his grasp reminded her how defenseless she actually was against this powerful man.

He left her there to fetch her basket.

Aliss shivered, her skin chilled—or was it concern that made her shiver? Did she trust the Wolf to keep his word? Would he return her home? Was she truly here only to heal his people? She hurried down the corridor, suddenly feeling ice-cold, but soon she was warming herself in front of the fire in the hearth. She rubbed her arms to chase away the gooseflesh but it stubbornly returned. Her wet clothes needed drying if she expected the shivering to stop.

Rogan entered and placed her basket on the bench next to the doorway. She envied him his dry clothes, his fur cloak, now hanging on a peg to dry, having protected him from the weather.

She turned back to the fire and hugged herself in an attempt to get warm.

Rogan disappeared for a few moments then reappeared with an armful of garments.

“Take these and use them. I cannot chance you getting ill.” He dumped them on the table and walked out.

Aliss sifted through the garments; skirts, blouses, tunics in various colors and material from soft wool to worn linen, all clean and scented with heather.

With hasty movements, she shed her wet clothes and hurried into a forest-green skirt and sky-blue blouse. The garments were a size too large for her, but with a leather strap that served as a decent belt, she was able to tuck the extra fabric in at the waist and fashion the outfit to her size.

She removed her leather boots to dry by the fire and folded the other garments and placed them on the chest near the window. She then set to heating cider to further warm her bones.

“Are you finished?” called Rogan from the other room.

“Aye, come join me for hot cider.”

“Hot cider sounds welcoming,” he said, entering the room. He stopped abruptly.

Aliss wondered at his prolonged stare. As if regaining his senses, he hurried to take a seat at the table.

She filled two tankards and sliced bread and cheese for them to share.

“The clothes seem to fit.”

“With a tuck here and there. You must tell me who they belong to so that I may thank them for their generosity.”

“Not necessary,” he said, cupping the hot tankard Aliss handed him.

“It is only proper I express my appreciation.”

Rogan shook his head. “She is deceased.”

“Oh,” Aliss said, and plopped down on the bench opposite him at the table. “I am sorry. Who was she?”

“My wife.”

The Wolf had had a wife? She would have never imagined him a husband to any woman. She thought of him only as a warrior and a fierce one at that. That he could have loved surprised her, though he could have wed out of necessity.

“I am so very sorry,” she said sincerely.

“It has been two years.”

“Still, it is a hurt some never get over.”

“The pain has diminished and I am left with good memories.”

“What happened to your wife?” she asked, eager to learn more. “If you do not mind my inquiry.”

“She died in childbirth.”

His grief was obvious and she sympathized. “Oh, how dreadful. The child also?”

He nodded. “My son perished with her.”

Death did not discriminate. It claimed the young and the old alike and she had shed many a tear and grieved with those left behind.

“Death makes no sense,” she said, hugging her tankard of cider.

He shrugged. “It is a part of life that cannot be avoided.”

“But a part no one wishes to embrace.”

“Kendra, my wife, embraced all of life.”

She was surprised by his smile and sense of acceptance.

“Life is to be lived, she would tell me. Then challenged me to live it.”

Aliss had not imagined a man who wore a wolf’s head and skin as a husband who had loved deeply or father who grieved for an unborn son. There was much more to this man than she had first thought and she was anxious to learn more.

“You tilled the earth?”

She nodded, accepting that he no longer wished to discuss his deceased wife. “I need an herb garden. The soil is ripe for planting and nourishing seeds.”

“You tended the soil alone?”

“My choice,” she said firmly. “John wished to help but I needed none.”

“Sent him to Anna, did you?” He smiled. “For a man who deceived you, you are generous with him.”

“What point is there for me to harbor anger and resentment? You need my skill, and although I do not agree with how you obtained my help, after seeing how ill your people are, I can understand your reasoning. John did what he had to do. I cannot fault him for that or hold it against him.”

“You forgive easily.”

“My healing work has taught me that forgiveness benefits more than revenge. Of course, knowing that I will be returned to my family helps.”

“You would protest more if you thought you were not returning home?”

“I would escape,” Aliss said.

Rogan chuckled. “How would you escape?”

“I am not sure, but in time I would find a way and return home.”

“You could never escape me.”

His resolute tone sounded more like a snarl and his green eyes turned dark, like the color of winter pine trees. Here was the wolf side of him, the predator who stalked, captured, and devoured his prey.

How could she trust a wolf?

“I do not need to escape,” she said confidently. “You will return me home.”

He did not reply; he drank his cider.