Under the Highlander's Spell (26 page)

Z
ia held firmly to Artair's hand as they approached the solar. She was grateful to him for speaking with Cavan and assuring that their meeting would be a private one with the bishop. She was also grateful that Artair chose not to divulge her secret to his brother. He left that choice to her.

Zia fussed with her short hair, though it had grown longer since it had first been cut, she wished it was at a more proper length.

Artair grabbed hold of her hand. “You are beautiful. It makes no difference about your hair or anything else. Your father will only see his daughter, and see the woman he loves in you.”

She released a sigh. “I am so glad you are here with me.”

“I'll be right beside you the whole time. You can depend on it.”

Artair opened the solar door, and she kept hold of his hand as she entered the room.

The bishop sat in a chair facing the burning hearth.
She couldn't see him, or he her. The only part of him she did see was his hand draped over the arm of the chair. His fingers were lean and long, like hers, and showed little signs of age, and he wore a sizable emerald ring on his middle finger.

“Come stand in front of me, woman,” he ordered. “I wish to see this supposed witch with my own eyes. And don't think you can bewitch me, for I am a man of God.”

Zia looked to Artair, and he kissed her cheek quick and gave her a little shove to get her moving.

“Do not keep me waiting,” the bishop said curtly.

He loved your mother beyond reason. I could see it in his eyes the day his family tore him from her arms.

Her grandmother's words rang strong and clear in her head, and she lifted her chin with pride and walked forward to meet her father.

The bishop lifted his head when she came to stand in front of him.

“I have been—” His ringed hand flew to his chest and he gasped. “Oh my God! It can't be.” He shook his head. “Is that you, Blythe?”

Tears instantly filled Zia's eyes and spilled down her cheeks upon hearing her mother's name. “No, Father, it is your daughter Zia.”

The bishop struggled to get out of his chair as tears raged from his eyes, and Zia reached down to help him. He immediately grabbed hold of her.

“My daughter? My beloved Blythe gave me a daughter?”

Choked with tears, Zia could only nod.

The bishop's slim hand touched her face tentatively, as if trying to prove to himself that she was real. “You look exactly like your mother.”

“I didn't know if you would remember her.”

He shook his head and kept hold of her arm. “I could never forget the woman I love. It broke my heart when I was forced to leave her, and my heart broke again when I heard that she had died. I wanted to die too, but it seemed life had different plans for me.” He smiled through his tears. “And now I know why.”

“You're not angry?”

His smile turned sad. “I could see why you might think that, but I'm relieved that you had the courage to face me anyway.”

“I wanted to meet you,” Zia said. “I wanted you to know I was your daughter and that I prayed every day to the Heavens, since I was young, to bring my father home to me.”

“If I had known, I would have left the Church and come for you. Nothing would have stopped me.” He shook his head. “I should have been stronger and fought harder for your mother. I should have clawed my way out of the cell my parents locked me in.”

“They locked you away?” Zia said incredulously.

“Until I agreed to study and commit my life to the Church,” he said sadly. “And once I learned of your mother's demise, I knew there was nothing left for me. I would never love another woman as I did your mother, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her.”

“You and Mother suffered a cruel fate.”

“But look what our love produced,” he said, his whole face lighting with a smile. “Sit…Sit and tell me all about yourself.”

Artair nodded to Zia and slowly backed out of the room, leaving father and daughter to discover each other.

 

Artair sat in the great hall at the table before the hearth, enjoying a tankard of ale for the first time in days. He took his time, didn't have to rush, didn't have to worry. Zia would be his wife, and she would be protected not only by him, but by her powerful father. And though he had no confirmation of this from the bishop, he knew it to be so. One only had to see the look of love in the bishop's eyes to know that he would see no harm come to his daughter.

The magic of love had worked magic.

“You look mighty content for a man whose wife may be burnt at the stake,” Lachlan said, joining him at the table.

Artair filled a tankard for him. “I believe all is going to work out well.”

Lachlan leaned across the table and whispered, “Learned how to cast a spell, did you?”

“Learned how to perform magic,” Artair said with a gleeful grin.

Lachlan looked aghast. “Are you sure you're my brother? He's too sensible to believe in magic.”

“The magic of love proved me wrong.”

“Good Lord, another brother lost to love,” Lachlan said, laughing. “Where is the love of your life?”

“Talking with Bishop Aleatus.”

“What?” Lachlan near choked on his ale. “I thought that meeting wasn't until later, and what are you doing sitting here so calmly?”

“To answer both questions, Cavan arranged for a change of time, and I know something you don't,” Artair said smugly.

“And you're not going to tell me, are you? You…” Lachlan muttered a string of oaths only his brother could hear.

Artair just laughed feeling free to really enjoy.

Cavan entered the hall from outside, swinging his cloak off his shoulders and dropping it on the table next to where his brothers sat. “By the happy look on your face, Artair, I would assume the meeting with the bishop and Zia went well.”

“It's still going well,” Artair said.

“You didn't stay with her?” Cavan asked, surprised.

It was Bethane who answered, entering the hall. “It wasn't necessary for him to stay. All goes well and will continue to do so. Isn't that right, Artair?”

Artair saluted her with his tankard. “That's right, Bethane, but then you knew this day would come, didn't you?”

“It was inevitable,” she admitted. “Now I will go tell Addie and Honora we have a couple getting married tonight in a private ceremony.”

Cavan scratched his head. “Who will perform the ceremony?”

“The bishop,” Artair said with a smile and a nod to Bethane.

The older woman turned to leave, then stopped and looked once again to Artair. “You have a question to ask me. I will do my best to answer it for you.” She turned then and disappeared up the stairs.

“How does she do that?” Cavan asked. “Know things before people even say anything?”

Artair shrugged. “She's a wise woman.”

“Or maybe it's magic,” Lachlan said, and nodded at Artair. “Our brother here believes in magic now.”

Artair draped his arm around Cavan's shoulder. “So does this brother, and we don't want to be the only ones who were struck by the magic of love.”

Cavan caught on and nodded. “That's right. So let's cast a spell of love on Lachlan.”

Lachlan laughed.

“Get away from them,” Neil shouted, having emerged from the shadows.

The three brothers looked at him.

“They've been bewitched and now they try to bewitch you. Run before it's too late and you find yourself saddled with a witch of a wife,” he shouted, and ran from the hall like a madman, his arms waving up over his head as he continued shouting.

“You know, that's the first smart thing that man has said since his arrival,” Lachlan said, laughing.

 

Zia stood in the sewing room while her grandmother altered the dark green velvet dress that Addie had gifted her with for her wedding ceremony. A few tucks and a sizable hem and it was perfect for her. The velvet fell in swirls from beneath her breasts, and her long sleeves ended in points over the back of her hands. Velvet slippers completed the outfit.

While the dress was more beautiful than any garment she had ever owned, it was her father who dominated her thoughts.

“He knew me at first sight,” she said, standing still while her grandmother worked on the hem.

“Of course he would. You are the picture of your mother.”

“So he remarked, though I saw bits of him in me as well,” Zia said proudly. “And he spoke with such pride of Mother and her healing skills, and knew I possessed the same. He told me how Mother told him their first child would be a daughter and that she would be a healer.”

Zia placed her hand over her stomach.

“You know the same. Have you told Artair?”

Zia smiled and shook her head. “Not yet, but soon enough.”

“Your father will be pleased. He will have the family long denied him.”

Zia's smile faded. “But he will never be able to openly acknowledge me as his.”

Bethane comforted Zia with a hug. “He protects you by not letting anyone know you're his daughter.”

“I know,” Zia said sadly. “It's just that he has suffered so much, and merely because he loved my mother.”

“But think how much joy this night will bring him. He will unite in marriage his daughter, whom he never knew existed, to the man she loves. While it may seem a small consolation to you, I believe he thinks otherwise. Besides, he also saved you from being condemned a witch, and now with his blessings no one will ever dare try to accuse you of witchcraft again.”

Zia wiped a lone tear from her eye. “I don't want him to leave. I want him to stay so I can learn more about him and tell him more about me, and hear stories of him and my mother…And I want him to hold my newborn daughter in his arms and know that it all started with the love he had for my mother, and how that love will live on forever.”

“I think he realized that when he laid eyes on you. Besides, he won't rush off now that he knows who you are. He will delay his departure, claiming an illness perhaps, that the healer advises would best heal with rest, not travel.”

Zia brightened. “I forget how wise you are.”

“Do not worry. I will remind you.”

Zia laughed along with her grandmother.

A soft knock sounded at the door and Honora entered. She looked beautiful wearing a purple gown her long hair tucked up with combs.

“I made this for you while the babes slept.” Honora handed her a crown made of heather.

Zia blinked back tears, placed the lovely gift on her head, then hugged Honora. “Thank you so very much. You must be well, for you look beautiful.”

“I feel wonderful, thanks to you,” Honora said. “But this night is not about me. It is about you, and everything is ready, and everyone waits in the solar.”

Bethane rushed through the last of the hem, and the two women escorted the bride downstairs.

As Zia approached the door, she grabbed hold of her grandmother's arm. “Behind that door—”

“Your past and future unite,” Bethane whispered softly.

Zia smiled and took a step toward her future.

T
he ceremony was short, and a light fare had been prepared and arranged in the solar, with plenty of wine and ale to help celebrate the special occasion. It was very late so that no one would be the wiser of what took place there that night.

Some of the servants speculated, but were happy that at least whatever did take place was a celebration, which meant that all was well.

Artair watched his wife…Finally, he could truly call Zia
his wife.
He watched her speak with her father and Bethane.

He and Zia had decided it would be best if no one else knew that Bishop Edmond Aleatus was her father. It wasn't that he and Zia didn't trust his family to keep the secret. It was just that he had learned from experience that the more people who knew a secret, the more people found out about it. And besides, he felt it was safer for his family not to know the truth, and Zia had agreed with him about that.

He couldn't get over how utterly beautiful she looked
and how utterly happy she was. He wished he could say that it was all because she had married him, but that most of her happiness was the result of learning about her father, and he couldn't blame her for that.

He had to laugh quietly, for the bishop hadn't smiled much when he first arrived, and since finding out about Zia, he hadn't stopped smiling. Those in his entourage who saw him wondered if the witch had cast a spell over him, and in a strange way, it could be said that she had, though it was a daughter's love that freed him from a spell. Once it was learned that the bishop had declared Zia free of all witchcraft charges, his people sighed a breath of relief and went about their tasks contentedly.

Bethane drifted over to him. “Happy?”

“More than I ever expected,” Artair admitted, then smiled. “But you knew that. What else do you know?”

“What is it you want to know?” she asked.

Artair looked around the room, taking in each person. “Cavan and Honora are happy, and even more so with the birth of their sons, this
I know
. What of Lachlan?”

Bethane smiled. “He finds love where he least expects it, and if he fights fate, he will lose her.”

“I will remember that,” Artair said with a nod. “What of my mother?”

Bethane sighed. “She will love again.”

“Never,” Artair said adamantly. “She loved Father far too much to ever love another man.”

“This man will be persuasive—”

“My brothers and I will get rid of him fast enough.”

“Be careful, for your mother's heart will go with him,” Bethane warned. “Odd that you ask of everyone before—”

“Ronan,” Artair finished with a firm nod. “I saved him for last. Tell me how to find him.”

“He travels a road you cannot follow.”

“No riddles, Bethane, just tell me where to start. I want my brother home where he belongs.”

“Then let him be, and he will find his way home,” she said.

Artair shook his head. “I cannot do that, and neither can my brothers. Just point me in the right direction and leave the rest to me.”

“As you wish,” Bethane said. “Find the barbarian leader's daughter and you will find Ronan.”

“Thank you,” Artair said, certain now that he and his brothers would find their brother and bring him home.

“Do not be so fast to thank me,” Bethane warned, and walked away as Zia approached.

“You look confused,” Zia said, taking hold of Artair's arm.

“Your grandmother has a way of doing that to people.” He gave her a quick kiss, whispering afterward, “I have been a patient husband. Can we take our leave now so that I can make love to
my wife
for the first time.”

Zia smiled. “I thought the same myself,
husband
.”

“You've been patient too?” he asked teasingly.

She pressed close against him and whispered in his ear, “Far too long.”

Her warm breath sent shivers racing through his body, and he felt her shiver along with him. “We need to leave now.”

“We'll slip out. No one will notice,” she whispered.

He agreed with a nod, but it took longer to take their leave than they hoped, and by the time they reached their bedchamber, they both breathed a sigh of relief and fell on the bed together.

“I thought they would never let us go,” Zia confessed.

“It is I who will never let you go,” Artair said with a kiss, soft, gentle, and tempting.

They took their time undressing each other, kissing as they went. Each lingered along favorite spots, so it took a long lazy time to undress completely, and when they finally did, they settled naked into each other's arms.

They kissed as if for the first time and lingered in the exquisite beauty of its sweet innocence. And laughed like new lovers eager to continue exploring. Then they began to touch, discovering each other for the first time as husband and wife and cherishing the joy of it.

They didn't rush, not once. Not even as their passion consumed them. It was as if they intended to treasure each and every moment and remember it always. When they finally joined, it was with an exquisite slowness that drove them both wildly mad until neither could
prevent the other from exploding in a blinding climax that left them completely spent.

Later, tucked beneath the blanket and wrapped around each other, with sleep not far off, Artair whispered in her ear, “You have bewitched me from the start.”

She laughed softly and snuggled against him. “Maybe so, Highlander, but it is you who have kept me under your spell.”