“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.”
“Tears can be cathartic, and time will lessen her tears.”
Artair guided her to a bench under a nearby tree, its huge branches providing a shady canopy. “I know, but it still hurts me to see her suffer.”
“Perhaps she will find love again.”
“She will not,” he said emphatically. “She loved my father and will never love another.”
“That’s nonsense. I bet your father would want her to love again.”
“He would not.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said with a smile.
“Believe it. My father would not want my mother to love again.”
Zia shook her head. “No, what I can’t believe is that you’re actually being unreasonable.”
“I am not,” he said defensively.
“Oh yes, you most certainly are. If your parents loved so strongly, then your father would not want to see your mother alone and mourning for the rest of her life. He would want her to be happy.”
“She has her sons and will soon have a grandchild, and more to come in the future.”
“She’s a woman with needs.”
He bolted to his feet. “She’s my mother.”
Zia smiled up at him. “She’s still a woman with needs, especially if she and your father—”
Artair’s hand shot up. “Don’t say another word. My mother has all that she needs.”
Zia got up and entwined her arm with his. “I’ll have to speak to her about it when I meet her.”
“You most certainly will not.”
“Meet her or speak to her?”
Artair shook his head, though he smiled. “Perhaps I was too hasty in inviting you to my home.”
Zia grinned. “Too late! I’ve already decided to return home with you.”
Chapter 10
Artair woke the next morning feeling refreshed and eager to return home. He hadn’t been surprised, though he was relieved, that Zia had consented to return with him. At least he wouldn’t be arriving completely empty-handed.
His family, Cavan in particular, would be pleased that he returned with a healer. Though their clan had women who helped heal, none could truly be called a healer. And his mother would surely be pleased, for she had done her share of healing over the years and often wished she had known more. She would be delighted to work with Zia, and that would keep her from feeling lonely.
Zia believed wrongly that his mother would even want to love again, let alone need to love. But she would see that for herself.
He sat up, stretching, and swung his legs off the bed. He was eager to make preparations to return home. He and Zia had spoken with Bethane last night at supper. He didn’t want to just snatch Zia away from her. That wouldn’t be right. Not after Bethane had been so kind to him.
The three agreed that within a week’s time, Zia and he would leave. He looked forward to their departure, though he had to admit that he enjoyed his time at the village and wouldn’t mind returning now and again.
He stretched himself off the bed and slipped on his shirt and plaid and tied his sandals. He drew the curtain back and wasn’t surprised to find Zia’s bed empty. He had thought he was an early riser, but Zia had him beat. She was always up before him. He usually caught up with her at breakfast. She always made a point of sharing the meal with her grandmother and he had grown accustomed to the same. He quite enjoyed it.