Under the Highlander's Spell(31)

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.”