Under the Highlander's Spell (10 page)

She smiled up at him. “It's nice to have you here with me.”

“I'm not much help.”

Zia placed a hand to his cheek and a kiss to his lips. “You have helped more than you know.” She turned to reenter the cottage, but stopped and looked at him. “Keep Albert away until I come for him.”

Artair nodded, and when the young man joined him again, he placed a supportive arm around him and walked Albert to the roasting pit to sit and talk with him.

As the night wore on, Artair became more concerned for mother and child, but he did not let Albert see it. He kept him talking, even suggesting that Albert might find a better home elsewhere for his family, and telling him he'd be welcome in Caithness with the Sinclare clan.

The young man had no chance to respond. Zia stepped out of the cottage and walked toward them. Artair stood along with Albert, intending to help the lad however he could, though he hoped it would be congratulations that he offered.

Zia sighed and ran a hand through her choppy hair as she approached. With hands on her hips, she settled a hard glare on Albert. “So, are you ready to meet your son?”

Albert broke out in a grin. Laughed, then cried. “A son?”

“A big boy for sure, which is why you can have only a few minutes with Ciley and then she must sleep. She is exhausted.” Zia smiled and pointed at the cottage. “Go, they both wait to see you.”

“Thank you. Thank you,” Albert said, bobbing his head as he ran past her to the cottage.

Artair went to Zia, slipped his arm around her waist and ran a gentle finger under each eye. “You're worn-out. You need to rest. A cottage has been prepared for you.”

She nodded. “The women told me.”

“I'll take you there when you're ready.”

“I just need to give instructions to the women who
will watch over Ciley throughout the night.” She rested her warm flushed cheek next to his cool one. “I won't be long.”

“I'll be here,” he said, running his hand down her arm and lacing his fingers with hers, only to reluctantly release her and feel her fingers slip one by one from his grasp.

He stood waiting where he was, and though she returned in mere minutes, it felt like much longer. He took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers once again, and again not wanting to let go, yet knowing he would soon have to. Even with slow steps, they would be at the cottage much too soon.

They strolled to the entrance and when they reached the door he planned to kiss her good-night. She surprised him and turned around, took hold of his other hand and hesitantly brushed her lips over his. “I want to kiss you,” she whispered as if seeking permission.

“I want you to kiss me,” he said.

She brushed her lips over his once again. “I want to keep kissing you.”

A low groan rumbled in his throat. “I want you to keep kissing me.”

Her lips kept brushing, teasing and tasting his until she pushed the door open and pulled him inside.

Z
ia loved his arms around her, the strength of his kisses, the warmth of his body, but most of all his kindness. Artair might be a mighty warrior, but he was a compassionate man. He had helped the young father find courage, made certain the hungry were fed, and come after her, concerned for her safety. And more important, he was patient with her.

She pressed her cheek to his and rested there, wishing nothing more than to remain close to him, feel his arms strong around her and know this moment was for them alone.

She would kiss him again; she knew that, but for now this was enough. This was what she wanted, to simply be close to him.

He obliged her by not moving, though he ran his hand up and down her back and it felt so wonderful that she could have remained there all night wrapped in his arms.

However, her yawn interrupted them.

“You need to sleep,” he said.

Slipping her arms around his waist, she prevented him from leaving her. “Not yet.”

“If I stay too long, I will not want to leave.”

“Then stay,” she whispered in his ear.

His inquisitive look questioned her motive.

“Lie beside me and hold me, just hold me all night.”

She saw reluctance in his eyes.

“Do I ask too much?” she asked.

He traced a finger around her lips. “To lie beside you and not touch you might prove difficult.”

She retraced his path with the tip of her tongue, then said, “Am I that appealing?”

He kissed her quick. “You are that wicked.”

“I can be wicked,” she teased with a sigh, “but alas I'm too tired.”

He coiled his fingers around the back of her neck and massaged the stiff area, and she all but melted in his arms.

“Now you take advantage,” she said.

“Don't tempt me.”

She smiled and saw desire rage in his eyes, but tenderness remained in his touch. “You are a good man.”

“You truly tempt my honorable nature.”

“Ah, but that is what I count on.” Her smile faded and she pressed closer, his hands falling away from her neck to slip around her, and as he embraced her, she leaned in and kissed him.

It was a good thing he held her, for her legs grew weak as he took control of the kiss, and she eagerly sur
rendered. She didn't realize that he had picked her up or that he walked with her in his arms to the bed. She knew nothing but the kiss. It overwhelmed her senses and befuddled her mind.

She hadn't realized she was lying on the bed until he gently pried her arms from around his neck and eased away from her.

“You will not hold me?” she asked, her arms outstretched to him.

He stared at her for a moment, his look stern and unpredictable, and she waited.

He quickly unlaced his sandals and stepped out of them, but left his shirt and plaid on. Then he slipped over her outstretched body, giving her a quick kiss as he went, and settled alongside her. Before she could turn to face him, he tucked his arm around her and drew her back against his chest.

“Sleep,” he whispered in her ear, “before I forget that I'm an honorable man.”

She almost chuckled but instead yawned and settled comfortably against him. She remained still, not wishing to tempt him any further. At least not now. She was simply too exhausted.

There would be another time; she would make certain of it.

She drifted off to sleep with dreams of the future dancing in her head.

 

Artair planned to leave as soon as she fell asleep. He didn't think he could last the night without touching
Zia. Her teasing alone fired his loins, not to mention her kisses.

This feeling he had for her was strange. He had assumed that when he found a suitable bride, he would simply wed her. Passion would follow; he never expected it to precede it.

And as for a bride? He never expected to find such a suitable one. He believed that he would have to make concessions, as he had done when a marriage had been arranged for him with Honora. She had been sweet and obedient, but not what he truly hoped for. She was, however, the perfect woman for Cavan.

Zia might just prove to be the perfect wife for him, and with that thought in mind, he fell asleep, the future invading his dreams.

 

Artair woke with a smile and a stretch, then suddenly recalled where he was and bolted up in bed. He was alone. No doubt as soon as Zia woke, she hurried to see how the new mother and babe were. And if all proved well, they could take their leave from the village of Holcote sometime today.

He refreshed himself with a splash of warm water that most likely Zia had left in a bowl on the table for him. She hadn't woken long before him, for if she had, the water would have cooled by now. That was good; at least she'd gotten a good night's sleep.

He'd be glad when he could get her home. With his family's influence he might even be able to have the investigation dismissed before it started.

Feeling confident, he left the cottage in search of Zia.

The sun was bright and the villagers busy masking a storehouse that would hide the meat his men had hunted since before sunrise, and which was now being dried and salted. They would survive the coming winter, and with some suggestions from his men, learn how to hide a portion of their harvest so they would not starve.

Artair took his time walking through the village relieved he would, in a small way, leave these people better off. He headed to Albert's cottage and once near saw Zia standing outside staring in the distance, her hand at her chin. She didn't even notice him approach and startled when he stopped beside her.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You're not going to like it.”

“Tell me,” he said, standing beside her. Though he had known Zia only a brief time, he realized that it was more than likely he would hear the unexpected from her.

“First,” she said with a smile, “mother and child are doing well.”

“Good news,” he agreed. “Now the bad?”

“Another village is in need of help.”

“Have your grandmother send another healer,” he said, relieved that he could dispatch the problem so easily.

“My grandmother wasn't contacted—I was.”

“How?”

“The liege lord of this village requested assistance for his friend. He felt that since he extended his hospitality to you here, in Holcote, you certainly wouldn't mind sharing your healer.”

“How long do you think a healer will be needed?” he asked, her safety foremost in mind, though meanwhile he was annoyed at himself for having made mention of her to the liege lord.

“I'm not sure. It depends on the severity of the illness.”

“How far is the village?”

“That isn't the problem,” she said.

A chill raced through him, and he knew he wasn't going to like what she had to tell him.

She continued. “The village Donnan where I am needed is a brief walk from Lorne.”

He shook his head, and kept shaking it, unable to think of anything but Zia tied to the stake in Lorne. “You can't go,” he finally said.

“I don't have a choice.” She held her hand up before he could interrupt. “From what I'm told, the illness is spreading and one person has died already. If I don't get there as soon as possible, more deaths are likely.”

“And what of you? You could possibly grow ill yourself and die, and if not that, the village of Lorne might discover your presence and attempt to burn you at the stake yet again.”

“It's a chance—”

“I'm not willing to take,” he finished. “I'll send word to Black and request that another healer be sent to Donnan.”

“I can't allow that.”

“Allow?” he snapped, and realized he was close to losing his temper, which he rarely did. A clear and sensible mind was needed to handle this situation.

Her hands went to rest firmly at her hips. “It's
my
choice.”

“You're right,” he said calmly, and watched her eyes grow wide. “But it's my responsibility to keep you safe.”

“You are not responsible for me.”

“I'm afraid I am. I and my family not only owe you for taking care of Ronan, but we would appreciate any help you can give Honora. Therefore, it is my responsibility to see to your safety.”

“A reasonable explanation,” she said and he wondered why she sounded perturbed. “You can do only so much. After all you can't guarantee my safety.”

He stared at her, her words having set his thoughts churning. “Actually,” he said with a grin, “that might be possible.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, curious.

“The Sinclare clan is well-respected and has many influential friends. If you were to wed a Sinclare, your security could be guaranteed.”

She stood stock still. He wondered if he had shocked her silent, and intended to file that fact away for future reference. It just might come in handy.

“You can't be serious,” she finally said.

“It's a logical solution to a serious situation. If the village Lorne hears that you are at Donnan, there could be grave repercussions. But if it is learned that you are the wife of one of the Sinclare brothers, no one would dare threaten you.”

“And this is a good reason to wed a stranger?”

He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “You cannot claim us strangers. After all,” he grinned, “we slept together last night.”

She tugged her hand loose. “We are presently friends.”

“That's even better. A friend would make a good wife.”

She shook her head, and he persisted.

“I admire your skills and your intellect, and I believe we are a good match. Given time, I am sure we will learn to love each other.”

“Learn?”

“People learn to love.”

“Because they have no choice. I plan on having a choice,” she said.

“If you had the luxury of choosing, that would be fine. But with the present situation?” He shook his head. “Consider your safety first.”

“My healing comes first,” she said sharply.

“That's fine. Then let me protect you so that you can do your healing without worry.”

“I don't have time to debate this now.”

“No, we don't. Let's be done with it. Marry me,
and it will afford you the protection you need to continue your work,” he said, hoping she would finally see reason.

She sighed, running her fingers through her cropped hair. He loved the way the short blond strands stood out afterward and how they glinted like fine gems in the bright sunlight.

“I cannot marry you. I look for love and passion and will settle for nothing less.”

He was prepared to argue but she quickly continued.

“But I do see the wisdom in your suggestion. So I believe the best thing for us to do is
pretend
to be husband and wife while we are at the village of Donnan.”

“That won't do,” he insisted. “Someone will want proof of our union.”

“I doubt anyone at the village will suspect. Their only concern will be for their well-being.”

“But there is the village of Lorne nearby, as you said,” he pointed out, “and they will certainly suspect our vows. Someone there may demand proof.”

“Lorne will claim that I bewitched you into marrying me. So proof won't matter.”

“You are being stubborn,” he said.

“I am being true to myself. I wish to fall in love and wed, and I refuse to settle for anything less. It will be my way, Artair, or not at all.”

He would have argued further with her but knew it would be senseless. She would not budge, and they
would only waste time. Time better spent preparing a cohesive story that everyone would believe. He would need both James and Patrick's support with this plan, and would have to send word to Bethane so she could verify the story if asked.

He finally nodded, reluctantly accepting her suggestion.

“We will need a consistent story about how, where, and when we were wed,” she said.

“I thought the same myself. If I'm correct, it will take us at least a day to reach our destination. How long before we can leave here?”

“It will take at most a day to reach Donnan, and with mother and child doing so well, I think we can leave by late afternoon.”

“Good. We will discuss our wedding while traveling, and share the news with James and Patrick when we stop for the night.”

Her face brightened with a smile. “I'm sure they'll be overjoyed for us.”

He leaned closer to her. “You got your way this time. Don't be so sure about next time.”

She laughed softly and slipped her hand inside his shirt, to tickle his chest. “Believe me, Artair, I will always have my way with you.”