Under the Highlander's Spell(53)

“Zia’s passion is what makes her the remarkable healer that she is,” he explained. “Her only thought when she heals is for the person she is healing. Right at this moment, she is concerned only about Honora and what she must do to help her, even if it means offending the laird of Clan Sinclare.”

Cavan stopped pacing. “I guess I needed reminding of who this was about. Your wife does what she knows best, and for that I am grateful, though her outspoken nature will take some getting used to.”

Artair had to laugh, and he then realized that he had laughed and grinned more since he met Zia than he ever had, and he was pleased that she brought such consistent pleasure to his life.

“She grows on you after a while,” he assured his brother.

“It’s certainly obvious how much she has grown on you.”

“It’s disgustingly obvious,” Lachlan agreed, appearing from around the stairs and walking toward them. “Love is written over every inch of him. What did you do? Fall hard like a complete and utter fool when you first met her?”

Artair was struck silent. All he’d heard was the word love, and it continued to reverberate in his head like a tower bell that refused to stop tolling. He had thought it a practical decision to wed Zia, but could the decision truly be perpetuated by love?

Lachlan smacked him on the back. “I’m right; the poor fool is dumbstruck by love and doesn’t even know it—much like you, Cavan.”

“Just you wait. I’m going to enjoy watching the bittersweet agony of you falling in love,” Cavan said with a sneer.

Artair finally found his voice and joined in the teasing. “I agree with Cavan and look forward to the same for you.”

“Too bad you’ll both be disappointed,” Lachlan said with smug confidence. “I intend to be wise when it comes time to choose a wife.”

Lachlan went on to explain how he would not suffer any pains or pangs of chasing after a woman. He would make it known he was interested in acquiring a wife, and would then choose between the viable candidates and it would be done—he’d have himself a dutiful wife.

Artair and Cavan laughed so hard it brought their mother to the door.

“What seems to be so amusing?” Addie demanded.

Cavan and Artair couldn’t contain their laughter enough to explain, so they both pointed to Lachlan, who reiterated to her what he had told them.

Addie burst out laughing herself, before shutting the door in their faces. A minute or so later peals of laughter echoed from inside the room, which only caused Artair and Cavan to laugh harder and Lachlan to walk away in disgust.

After the two brothers’ laughter subsided, the door to the bedchamber opened once again and Addie summoned them inside.

Cavan went directly to his wife, who sat in a chair by the window. “You’re feeling better?”

“Much better after speaking with Zia,” she confirmed.

Relief brought a huge smile to Cavan’s face. “No more fainting, then?”

“Zia assures me there will be none if I follow her instructions,” Honora said.

Cavan looked at Zia. “We’ll do whatever you say.”

She grinned. “It is Honora who will need to follow the prescribed diet.”

Cavan turned an anxious look on his mother.

“I’m already prepared to see that she eats as Zia has suggested,” Addie said. “Which is why I’m going to get her a little something to eat right now. And, Artair,” she added, turning in his direction. “You need to find a nice cottage where your wife can work. I’m sure many in the clan are going to seek her healing skills.”

“That would be nice,” Zia said. “I could use a place where I can prepare my brews, mix potions, and blend salves while seeing to ailments.”

“Timmin’s cottage,” Cavan said to his brother. “You know the one. It’s been empty for a few months.”

“That’s at the far end of the village. I’d prefer my wife closer to the keep.” He slipped his arm around Zia’s waist. It was something he found himself doing often and without thinking. It was as if he felt empty without her in his arms, like a part of him was missing. Whatever it was, he knew he felt whole when he felt her there, pressed close to him.

“There’s Biddie’s cottage,” Addie suggested. “It’s more in the middle of the village, though it is small. Good enough for one, as Biddie said many a time throughout the years. I believe she would be pleased that her home became a place of healing.”

Artair nodded, familiar with the place and the woman who had passed three months now. “I’ll take Zia there and see if it will suit her.”