Under the Highlander's Spell(32)
She stood stock still. He wondered if he had shocked her silent, and intended to file that fact away for future reference. It just might come in handy.
“You can’t be serious,” she finally said.
“It’s a logical solution to a serious situation. If the village Lorne hears that you are at Donnan, there could be grave repercussions. But if it is learned that you are the wife of one of the Sinclare brothers, no one would dare threaten you.”
“And this is a good reason to wed a stranger?”
He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “You cannot claim us strangers. After all,” he grinned, “we slept together last night.”
She tugged her hand loose. “We are presently friends.”
“That’s even better. A friend would make a good wife.”
She shook her head, and he persisted.
“I admire your skills and your intellect, and I believe we are a good match. Given time, I am sure we will learn to love each other.”
“Learn?”
“People learn to love.”
“Because they have no choice. I plan on having a choice,” she said.
“If you had the luxury of choosing, that would be fine. But with the present situation?” He shook his head. “Consider your safety first.”
“My healing comes first,” she said sharply.
“That’s fine. Then let me protect you so that you can do your healing without worry.”
“I don’t have time to debate this now.”
“No, we don’t. Let’s be done with it. Marry me, and it will afford you the protection you need to continue your work,” he said, hoping she would finally see reason.
She sighed, running her fingers through her cropped hair. He loved the way the short blond strands stood out afterward and how they glinted like fine gems in the bright sunlight.
“I cannot marry you. I look for love and passion and will settle for nothing less.”
He was prepared to argue but she quickly continued.
“But I do see the wisdom in your suggestion. So I believe the best thing for us to do is pretend to be husband and wife while we are at the village of Donnan.”
“That won’t do,” he insisted. “Someone will want proof of our union .”
“I doubt anyone at the village will suspect. Their only concern will be for their well-being.”
“But there is the village of Lorne nearby, as you said,” he pointed out, “and they will certainly suspect our vows. Someone there may demand proof.”
“Lorne will claim that I bewitched you into marrying me. So proof won’t matter.”
“You are being stubborn,” he said.
“I am being true to myself. I wish to fall in love and wed, and I refuse to settle for anything less. It will be my way, Artair, or not at all.”
He would have argued further with her but knew it would be senseless. She would not budge, and they would only waste time. Time better spent preparing a cohesive story that everyone would believe. He would need both James and Patrick’s support with this plan, and would have to send word to Bethane so she could verify the story if asked.
He finally nodded, reluctantly accepting her suggestion.
“We will need a consistent story about how, where, and when we were wed,” she said.
“I thought the same myself. If I’m correct, it will take us at least a day to reach our destination. How long before we can leave here?”
“It will take at most a day to reach Donnan, and with mother and child doing so well, I think we can leave by late afternoon.”
“Good. We will discuss our wedding while traveling, and share the news with James and Patrick when we stop for the night.”
Her face brightened with a smile. “I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed for us.”
He leaned closer to her. “You got your way this time. Don’t be so sure about next time.”
She laughed softly and slipped her hand inside his shirt, to tickle his chest. “Believe me, Artair, I will always have my way with you.”
Chapter 12
Zia found Donnan in worse shape than she had expected. About a quarter of the village suffered from a low, persistent fever accompanied by aches and pains. The least resilient suffered; the very young and the elderly were forced to remain abed.
The story she and Artair had concocted concerning their recent marriage didn’t matter to the villagers. Their only thought was for the healer who had come to help them. Zia hadn’t spared a moment once she arrived. She quickly deposited her personal items in the cottage made ready for her and, with her healing basket, began making rounds of the village.
Within a few hours she knew she had a problem on her hands. She had seen this ailment before, some resulting in dire circumstances, while on other occasions it proved less severe. Try as she might, she couldn’t find the source.