Under the Highlander's Spell (8 page)

A
rtair began his inquiry the next morning at the breakfast table. “I'd like to speak to the friend who brought Ronan here.”

“He's not here,” Zia said.

“When will he return?”

“He doesn't live here.”

“Tell me where he lives and I will go see him,” Artair said.

“He travels. He has no one set place he calls home,” Zia explained.

Artair remained persistent. “Tell me of the places he frequents and I will find him.”

“We cannot do that,” Bethane said.

“Why not?” Artair asked.

Bethane explained. “The person you seek helps those in need. His identity is known to only a chosen few. He risks his life helping others.”

“I will tell no one of his honorable deeds,” Artair insisted, feeling there was more to this person than Bethane was saying.

Bethane shook her head. “I am sorry, but I cannot, nor will I betray his trust.”

“Is that who you went to see in the woods last night?”

“Do you accuse us of hiding something from you?” Zia challenged.

“Do you?” he snapped.

Bethane raised her hand to stop the sparring before it could escalate. “I understand your need for answers, Artair, but you must realize by now what this village is all about.”

“It's a sanctuary for those in need,” he answered.

“In desperate need,” Bethane corrected. “There is no one to help them, no place for them to turn, and some are being pursued unjustly. We welcome them to remain here if they wish; some do, while others feel compelled to move on.”

“And the person in the woods?”

“A visitor who has long since gone,” Bethane said.

Artair's response died on his lips when she raised her hand.

“You search for your brother, and these questions you ask will not help find him. He chose to leave. I wish I could tell you why, but unfortunately I do not know. As for the secrets of this village? They pertain to us alone.”

Artair sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and gave an abrupt nod, accepting her explanation for now. But this was far from the end of his inquires. He wanted answers and he intended to get them.

Zia leaned forward, and her grandmother placed a firm hand on her arm. “I believe Artair understands what I say.”

Artair almost smiled at the fire that raged in Zia's eyes. She was ready to argue, and he couldn't deny that he felt like a fight, but not with her. It was his own frustration that he needed to battle.

“You have been more than generous with your information and hospitality. And you are right about your secrets. I would not care for a stranger demanding secrets from my clan.”

“You have secrets?” Zia asked, the fire continuing to dance in her eyes, though playfully.

Her mischievous glint began to melt his irritation. He leaned closer to her. “Be nice and I may just tell you some.”

She walked two fingers rapidly, though lightly, up his forearm. “I bet I can get you to reveal a few without being nice.”

“I've heard enough,” Bethane said with a laugh, and stood. Nessie, who had been sleeping at her feet, stood also. “I'm going to check on the barbarian.”

“I'll be there shortly,” Zia said.

“Take your time. He's been resting comfortably and I have some potions to blend.” Bethane walked out leaving the open door as it was so that the late summer air could drift throughout the cottage. Nessie as usual trailed after her.

“I meant no insult to you or your grandmother,” Artair said.

Her fingers danced slowly up his arm this time. “We know that, for if you did you wouldn't be sitting here right now.”

He grabbed hold of her seductively wandering fingers. They were doing much too much damage to his senses, and if he didn't stop her soon, he wouldn't be able to think straight.

“Where would I be?”

“Where I really don't want you to go yet,” she said softly.

“Where is that?”

“On your way home.”

“You like me.” He grinned and tapped her nose.

“That's obvious, but you feel the same,” she said bluntly.

“I do, and have no problem admitting it.”

“So you will stay here for a while?” she asked excitedly.

“I was hoping you might return to my home with me and meet my family and tend to Honora, my brother Cavan's wife who is with child. If you recall, I told you she wasn't feeling well.”

She hesitated, and he thought he knew why. She had obligations here, and yet, Honora was in need of a healer.

“That's not the only reason why I want you to return home with me,” he said, wanting to be truthful with her. “I feel we would do well together.”

That brought a bright smile to her face.

“I believe, given time, getting to know each other more, we would realize that we make a good match.”

Her eyes widened. “Match?”

“It takes a good match for a marriage to work.”

“Marriage?”

Why did he feel like he had just jumped into a river and found he couldn't swim?

“What of love?”

How did he know she was going to ask that, and why hadn't he realized it sooner? He attempted diplomacy. “Love develops along the way.”

“What if it doesn't?”

She didn't challenge; she actually sounded anxious.

“What then? Without love, a marriage is doomed.”

“I don't believe we'd have that problem,” he assured her, for he felt confident they would indeed make a good match.

“We barely know each other,” Zia reminded him. “Passion sparks in both our eyes, and I daresay our bodies as well. But is it the passion of love or simply lust?”

This time he was blunt. “I won't deny I feel lust when I'm with you.”

That brought a huge grin to her face.

“But I also enjoy your company. I want to spend time with you. I look forward to it, even if I must collect plants to do it.”

Zia laughed. “It is good to know it is not beneath a warrior to stoop to collecting plants.”

He grinned. “I'll stoop anytime you want me to.”

She laughed again, though softly, and moved closer to him. “What you tell me is that you are willing to do what is necessary—”

“To make this work,” he finished.

“I don't want to
make
it work. I want to fall in love.”

He threaded his fingers with hers. “In time love will come.”

She eased away from him. “Then we will give it time.”

“How much time?” he asked.

“As much time as it takes.” She bounced out of the chair. “I must tend to my chores now.”

Artair wasn't going to let her escape that easily. He caught her before she could race out the door and wrapped his arms around her.

“I can be reasonably patient.”

“That is good, for you will need it.”

“Will I, now?” he asked, and with a wicked grin stole a wicked kiss.

He felt her arms go around him and her fingers trail up his back to grasp the top of his shoulders. He crushed her against him, her breasts pressing hard into his chest, her taut nipples poking even harder and making him grow hard.

The gentle sway of her hips against him nearly did him in, and he knew he had to end the salacious kiss or there might be no stopping either of them. He eased them apart, his body almost rebelling when he saw how
plump and ripe her lips were from their kiss, and the way her nipples remained taut beneath her blouse.

At the moment, they were both full of lust.

He took her hand and led her outside into the sunlight. She blinked several times as if waking herself, looked around surprised, then smiled at him.

“You don't trust yourself,” she teased.

“You are absolutely right.”

She chuckled. “That is good to know.”

“Damn, I gave away a secret,” he said playfully.

“See, I told you I could get secrets out of you without being nice.”

“I could be more vigilant, though I like it when you're not nice.”

She tapped him on the chest, turned, and with a provocative sway of her hips said, “Ahh, but what about reason?”

Her lighthearted barb made him laugh, and made him think that he might not be as patient as he first thought. They suited each other and he could offer her protection. Only the very foolish would dare accuse a Sinclare bride of witchcraft.

He would get her to return home with him, and once she did, it would be easy to convince her to remain and become his wife. He felt pleased with himself as he turned and walked away. His trip might not have been successful in finding his brother, but he had discovered that Ronan was still alive, and that would give the family hope. And he had found an appropriate woman to take as a wife. All in all, it was a good trip.

He would return with good news about Ronan, and do it with his bride-to-be.

 

Zia and her grandmother sat in wooden chairs outside the cottage door, quenching their thirst with cider. It had been a hectic morning. Several villagers had arrived with various complaints, and two of them needed stitches to close deep wounds. The barbarian also demanded attention, asking endless questions as Zia changed his bandages.

“I think he will remain with us,” Bethane said, resting her head back against the rim of the chair. Nessie curled comfortably beside her.

Zia hesitated briefly. “He's already asked me to go with him.”

Bethane smiled at her granddaughter. “I wasn't speaking of Artair.”

Zia returned the smile and nodded. “I agree the barbarian will choose to stay here.”

“But Artair will not.”

Zia sighed. “He told me that his brother Cavan's wife is with child and not well, that she could use my skill.”

“He knows you will not refuse to help someone in need,” Bethane said with a nod. “But there is more, I think.”

“He believes us well suited and thinks we would make a good ‘match.'” Zia stood, leaving the empty tankard on the chair, and paced in front of Bethane. “He talks of marriage when we barely know each other.
He says in time love will develop.” She stopped pacing and stood starring into the distance.

Bethane waited.

Zia finally turned around. “It is a practical decision for him. It has nothing to do with love, and it is too soon to tell whether it's just a passing attraction or something more.” She threw her hands up in the air. “What do I do?”

“Let it be. Time will handle it for you.”

“Do I go with him?”

“I think you have already decided that,” Bethane said.

“If his sister-in-law does need help and I don't go, I'd never forgive myself.”

Bethane eased herself out of the chair. “I think if you don't go and see how things develop between you and Artair, you would never forgive yourself.”

Zia hurried to her grandmother's side. “But you need me here.”

“There are many good healers here. We will survive in your absence,” Bethane assured her.

“Then you believe I should go?”

Bethane shook her head. “I cannot nor will I decide for you. The choice must be yours and yours alone.”

“Part of me wants to go, and part of me…” Zia sighed.

“Part of you fears going,” Bethane said.

Zia bobbed her head. “Yes, yes, but why? I've always faced my fears with courage. What makes this different?”

“Love. Love makes all the difference.”

“What if—”

Bethane placed a gentle finger to Zia's lips. “Let it be, just let it be.”

 

Artair knew he had a problem as soon as he saw James present a bouquet of flowers to a woman and she responded with a bright smile. That James had picked the flowers was amazing in itself, but that he had washed up and made himself presentable was even more amazing.

James was first and foremost a warrior. But at the moment he looked more like a besotted fool, which made Artair smile, and worry.

The woman, short and plump and oh so pretty, smiled at James as if he were the handsomest of men. He had never seen a woman look at James with such adoration.

“I think Mave fancies James.”

Artair smiled as Zia hooked her arm with his.

“They look to suit each other,” he said.

She smirked and shook her head. “Take a closer look. I'd call that love.”

“They only met.”

“Just met or not, just look at them.”

He looked at the couple again and had to admit that it wasn't lust he saw in their eyes, but a sparkle that he couldn't quite define, though it made him smile.

“You see it,” she said with an excited tug to his arm.

“I admit I see something.” Actually, he couldn't believe his eyes. James was most attentive to the young woman and it seemed he couldn't help but smile. In fact, James rarely smiled, and when he did, it was a short burst that passed quickly.

“The poor man is completely love-struck.”

Artair cringed, and joked, “She's given him a love potion.”

“Mave hasn't asked for a love potion.”

Artair turned wide eyes on her. “I was teasing.”

Zia gently squeezed his arm. “So am I.”

He shook his head. “You could get into trouble if someone heard you.”

“Not here I wouldn't, but then none here would believe such nonsense. They would know it isn't our way.”

“But you do concoct potions.”

“To aid in healing. That's what we do here—we heal.”

“Broken hearts need healing,” he said with a smile.

They strolled off together arm in arm as they continued their conversation.

“There is no potion to heal a broken heart. Only time will heal it.”

“True enough,” he said sadly. “I see how it has been for my mother since my father died. She tries to appear strong, but I know how much she misses him, and that she sheds tears more often than she lets anyone know.”