Under the Highlander's Spell(52)

“That can wait until tomorrow,” Addie assured her. “Take time for yourself today.”

“I am. I’m doing what I love.” Zia grabbed a piece of bread from the platter and stood. “Show me around, Honora?”

Honora looked to Addie, who responded with a congenial shrug. “If that’s what Zia wants then by all means show her around.”

“Perhaps we can talk later,” Zia said to Addie.

“I’d like that.”

“Good. Then I can have a look at that cut on your hand.”

Addie glanced down at the red abrasion. “It’s nothing.”

“But it could turn poisonous if not treated properly.”

“Take care of Addie first,” Honora said, clearly upset as she struggled to stand.

Zia had reached out to help her when strong arms reached past her and took hold of Honora.

“What’s wrong with my mother and why is my wife upset?” Cavan demanded, his arm going around Honora.

Honora rushed to answer, only worsening the situation. “Mother’s hand is filling with poison.”

“What?” came the startled cry behind her.

Zia cringed, hearing Artair’s voice, and swore silently for losing control of the conversation.

“Stop!” she said, holding her hand up.

“Got yourself in trouble already?” Artair asked with a laugh, and slipped his arm around her waist.

Zia had to smile. Sides had been drawn. Artair was protecting her, as Cavan protected his wife, while Addie remained neutral.

“There’s nothing wrong,” she said, attempting to explain. “I’m doing what I always do—”

“Getting into trouble,” Artair teased.

She elbowed him in the gut. “Hush up.”

Cavan raised a pointed finger at Zia, and Honora grabbed hold of it. “Cavan will take a walk with me while you tend to mother.”

“Good idea,” Artair said.

Zia saw the two brothers exchange a look, and without another word, Cavan and Honora left the room.

She turned around with a flourish to Artair, and out of the corner of her eye saw Addie slip out of the room. “I can look after myself.”

Artair scratched his head. “Which is why I’ve already rescued you two times?”

“This is a misunderstanding, and it’s your fault,” she said.

“Me?” he asked with shocked laughter. “I wasn’t even here.”

“No, but you left orders for me to—”

“Enjoy the day, which is far from an order,” he said. “I’ve watched you work yourself exhausted, and then I forced you to endure a rough pace to return home. I felt you deserved time to rest and recoup before you again spend all your time helping others. I was concerned for you and only you.”

Zia sighed with a smile. “How wonderfully romantic.”

He took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it. “I can be romantic.”

“You know what follows romance?” she asked, stepping closer to him.

He kept hold of her hand and lowered his face near to hers. “Tell me.”

“Love.”

“Then passion follows,” he whispered in her ear.

“Is that an invitation?” she asked.

“I think we should discuss this in depth later tonight.”

“Discuss which, love or passion?”

Lachlan interrupted any further talk between them when he rushed into the hall yelling, “Honora has fainted.”





Chapter 19




Artair stood while Cavan paced outside his closed bedchamber door. He understood that his brother was more worried than angry, though moments before, that could have been debated. When Zia told Cavan to leave the room while she looked after his wife, he bluntly told her no. Artair had to give Zia credit for dealing patiently and calmly with Cavan, until he gave her one too many orders, and then she ordered him out of the room.

That’s when he had gotten involved, convincing his brother that it was better to let Zia work and better that Honora wasn’t further upset by the squabbling. Cavan had reluctantly vacated the room after informing Zia he’d stay right outside the door, waiting for news, which she was to deliver in due time or he’d return—and this time not budge from his wife’s side.

Hence, the endless pacing, scowl lines, and concerned creases on his brother’s face.

Cavan stopped abruptly. “That wife of yours has a strong personality.”

“I like to think of it as passion.”

“Then you’re asking for trouble,” Cavan said, and resumed his pacing.

Artair defended Zia not merely because it was expected of him as her supposed husband, but because he had seen for himself the depths of her commitment to her healing work, and he admired her for it.