Artair walked without focus, his mind much too jumbled to pay attention.
“What’s wrong?”
Artair jumped at the sudden forceful query and was relieved to see Zia a few feet in front of him, hands on her hips, hair falling in sparse curls around her face.
Damn, but she was beautiful.
“Answer me,” she said, having walked up to him to poke him in the chest.
“Is that the way you greet your husband?”
“When he looks upset it is. Now what’s wrong?”
“When you have time, Cavan wishes to speak with you.”
“About?” she asked.
“Ronan and barbarians at the village Black.”
“Ronan, I will discuss with him. Who I heal at my village is none of his business. He is not my laird.”
Artair nodded. “Actually, you being my wife makes him your laird.”
Zia spoke low so no one would hear. “I’m not your wife and even if I was, the village Black is none of his concern.”
Artair could see that this wasn’t going to be easy, yet the matter had to be addressed. He had let it go far too long without forcing a discussion. Not that he believed she was hiding any great revelations from him; he didn’t. In time he would get his answers, and in the meantime he changed the subject.
“Do you really love me?”
Her eyes rounded in shock.
“You claimed to love me this morning. Did you speak the truth?” he asked and felt his breath catch while he waited for her to answer.
She began to walk toward her cottage, toying with the shawl’s knot as she did.
He kept pace beside her, then followed her inside, closing the door behind him and waited as she added another log to the fire and lit several candles around the room. He had hoped for an immediate answer but could understand her reluctance, for he felt it himself.
She turned suddenly to face him. “I will tell you the truth, but I do not want you to feel obligated to reciprocate. I know you think differently than I do and—”
“Tell me,” he demanded, more sharply than he’d intended.
“Yes, I love you,” she snapped, “though I would have much preferred to admit it with a less biting tongue.”
He smiled and went to approach her, but she raised her hand.
“Don’t,” she warned softly. “Let me say what I must.”
He nodded and remained where he was, though he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and shout out his love for her.
“Strangely enough, it was your mother who made me realize your true nature, and I admit you have more passion than I’d thought.”
He grinned. “You must known that by now.”
She laughed softly as he took quick steps over to her and wrapped her in his arms.
She pressed her finger to his lips. “Don’t say a word, not now. Just show me.”
Chapter 25
A few hours later, alone in her cottage, she still continued to recall their fast though passionate joining. Artair had scooped her up into his arms and braced her against the closed door, insisting he would not see them disturbed, and she had agreed. All could wait for at that moment she had wanted nothing more than to feel the strength of her husband inside her.
She had to shake her head to remind her that Artair wasn’t her husband, but it felt so right to think of him as such and it felt so right when they made love. He had hoisted up her skirt and drove into her with a gentle force she welcomed. She had been ready for him and he had slipped into her…
Zia shivered with the memory of their joining.
“Are you all right?” Neddie asked, entering the cottage.
Zia cleared her head with another shake and returned to the matters at hand. Neddie had been spending time with her, wishing to learn the art of healing. She had always been interested in it, and after the battle realized that such knowledge could greatly benefit her own village.
“You work too hard,” Neddie insisted.
“A healer always does,” Zia chuckled. “But it’s my husband who occupies my mind.”
Neddie smiled. “He’s a handsome one; I don’t blame you.”
“He’s a good husband and a great lover,” Zia admitted with pride.
“Then you are a lucky woman,” Neddie said. “I was blessed with a plain husband and a passionate lover, even after all these years of marriage.”
The two women continued to chat as Zia taught Neddie how to prepare healing potions for various ailments. It was well past the noon meal when Zia wandered into the keep, her stomach growling and she eager to appease it.
As soon as she spied Cavan standing by the table, she knew he was waiting for her. Artair stood as she approached, held his hand out to her and assisted her in sitting beside him. She was relieved that she would at least have time to eat before the inquisition.