Under the Highlander's Spell(47)

She pulled out of his embrace and moved around the table, continuing her task of packing her things while on the opposite side. “I told you I will not marry you, and don’t ask me again until…”

“Until what?” he asked impatiently.

She threw the pouch she held in the basket. “Until you’re finally not reasonable anymore.”





Chapter 17




They kept an arduous pace for four days, stopping more to rest the horses than themselves. Zia said nothing. She knew Artair’s intentions were to get home to his village as fast as possible. They ate and slept little, and talked even less.

It didn’t matter. She knew what he was thinking, and it annoyed her. He had it all planned and truly believed it would turn out his way. She might presently require his protection, but that didn’t include marriage.

Besides, how many times did she have to tell him that she would marry only for love? He was thick-headed and much too reasonable, about which she had reminded him often enough. The man just wouldn’t listen. He could be so frustrating. But he could also be kind and loving.

She sighed as they stopped once more to give the horses a rest. Her backside and thighs were sore and she was hungry.

“A brief stop,” Artair commanded. “I want to reach home by nightfall.”

Zia dismounted, and while her mare drank from the stream, she grabbed a couple of apples from the sack that hung from her saddle. Before biting into one of them, she took off her sandals and dunked her feet in the cool water.

It felt so refreshing that she sighed aloud.

“Feels that good, does it?”

She smiled, turning to face Artair, and threw him an apple. “Join me.”

He obliged, shedding his sandals and walking into the stream. He smiled broadly. “It does feel good, and even better, tonight you will sleep in a comfortable bed.”

“And whose bed will that be?” She raised her brow in question as she took a last bite of the juicy apple.

He hesitated, then said, “I must assume that my family has received news of our marriage, and if not, they would hear of it soon enough, so it would be sensible for us to arrive home as husband and wife.”

She shrugged. “I’ll continue the pretense until it is no longer necessary.”

He tossed the finished apple aside. “And then?”

“I’ll decide when the time comes.”

He stared at her while he called out orders to his men, then said to her, “We leave now.”

Zia splashed out of the stream and walked past him.

He grabbed hold of her arm. “Be sensible about this, Zia.”

She laughed. “Actually, I am.”

She hurried into her sandals and mounted her horse, and they were soon on the road again. Artair resumed their swift pace, and she had no doubt their arrival home would be as he predicted.

Dusk covered the land as they passed through the village and approached the keep. Those who were out and about called out greetings and congratulations to Artair. Zia could see that news of their union     had reached the people of Caithness, so she knew the pretense of their marriage was necessary. She would do her part, but for how long? She decided not to put a time limit on it. She would know, would feel it when the time was right. Until then she would look after Cavan’s expectant wife while seeing—she chuckled—just how sensible Artair could be.

Every part of her body ached as she climbed the few steps to the keep. What she truly wanted was food, bath, and bed, in that order, but there was his family to meet and Honora to look after, if necessary. She would do what she had to, as she always did.

A yawn escaped her just as they reached the door.

Artair’s arm went around her. “Tired?” he asked.

“No,” she said, dropping her head on his shoulder. “I’m exhausted.”

The door abruptly swung open and a man with similar features to Artair—not as handsome, but with a charming smile—regarded them.

“We heard your approach,” he said. “I was just coming to welcome you home.”

“Zia,” Artair said, “my brother Lachlan.”

Lachlan smiled and reached out to snatch Zia from Artair’s grasp. He wrapped his arm around her. “Come meet the family, sister,” he said cheerfully, and walked her into the great hall.

Boisterous cheers rang out, and she almost sighed in resignation. She always enjoyed celebrations, but not when exhausted. The hall was filled with people waving raised tankards in the air and calling out congratulations. Tables were covered with platters of scrumptious looking food that she wouldn’t mind digging into, and wine and ale were flowing freely.

Artair slipped her out of Lachlan’s grasp, though his brother protested.