“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.