Under the Highlander's Spell(66)

Artair nodded. “He continues to improve, and Zia keeps his hopes high, though she is honest with him, letting him know that she isn’t certain if his strength will fully return to his arm.”

“I think James is feeling good because your wife informed him that she sends for that pretty lass he favored in her village to help look after him.”

Artair chuckled. “James did brighten considerably when Zia told him she had sent for Mave to help.”

“Considerably? He nearly jumped out of bed.”

The brothers laughed, though it came to an abrupt halt when they spotted their mother running toward them and waving frantically.

The two ran to her.

“Honora. Honora.” It was the only thing a breathless Addie could utter.

Artair helped his mother as Cavan took off toward where Addie pointed.

Artair and Addie followed him in the same direction and came upon a hectic scene as they entered the cottage of one of the healing warriors. Honora had been visiting with him when she was struck with pain. Everyone in the cottage was upset, especially Cavan, who held his wife in his arms as she groaned.

Lachlan entered and began yelling, “Do something for her! Do something!”

Artair took over then. He directed Lachlan to find Zia, while Cavan insisted upon carrying his wife to the keep. Interceding, Artair made him understand that it was better for her to remain in the cottage until Zia could look at her.

Shortly afterward, Zia arrived to take control of the situation. Following a brief examine, and asking questions, she said that Honora had no more than an upset stomach. Zia ordered her to bed and then began to prepare a special brew.

It wasn’t until Artair was alone with her as she brewed the potion that Zia confessed to more concern than she’d let on. In fact he had suspected as much, having seen the look on her face earlier, during her examination.

“I’m not sure she will carry much longer,” Zia said.

“If she delivers sooner, what of the babe?” he asked

“If I can manage to keep her from going into labor too early, then I believe the child can be saved.”

“And Honora?”

“I’m not worried about her; it’s the babe that concerns me.”

“Should you speak to Cavan about this?”

“Honora will see his worry.”

Artair nodded. “You’re right. What do we do?”

“I will speak with Honora.”

“And Cavan?”

“That will be up to his wife,” Zia said.

“If it were you, I would want to know,” Artair said.

Zia placed a gentle hand to his cheek. “I would confide in you, for you would do what was necessary. Cavan, however, is madly in love with his wife and fears losing her.”

Artair almost grabbed his chest, the stab was so sharp. Zia had no idea how he felt about her. But then why should she? He hadn’t made his feelings known; he’d only just realized them himself. And if he claimed them now, she wouldn’t believe him. What was he to do?

Show her you love her.

The voice in his head was clear, and it sounded just like Bethane, but then, the older woman did give good advice.

Artair took hold of Zia’s hand. “Handle this as you will, but later make time for us.” He leaned down and, before kissing her, whispered, “You are so beautiful.”

Her breath caught as he stole a quick kiss. Then he walked off. He had to or he would have dragged her upstairs to their bedchamber and kept her there for the rest of the day and night. They hadn’t made love since the battle—no time, no chance—though desire was there, and not only his. He could sense it in the way Zia leaned heavily against him when tired, the way her arm went around his waist to hug him, the way her lips found his at the oddest times, and how she whispered in his ear when least expected, “I want you.”

Zia was more of a woman than he had ever expected. And now that he had her, he wouldn’t exchange her for anyone else in the world. She was his and he loved her.

He hurried up the stone stairs to Cavan’s bedchamber and entered through the open door. His brother sat on the bed beside his wife. For a moment Artair thought of placing his hand on Cavan’s shoulder, but realized if he did that, his brother would know something was wrong.

“Zia will be here in a minute,” he said, walking over to the bed and seeing that his mother sat on the edge of the chair in the corner. “How are you feeling, Honora?”

“Better,” she said with a weak smile.

He noticed how her eyes darted to the open door, and knew that she waited for Zia.

“Why don’t we leave the women to handle this?” Artair said to his brother. “I’m thirsty for an ale or two.”