“We can’t just leave him,” Cavan said, exasperated. “We must do something.”
“Then let us find out what is going on before we rush into anything,” Artair suggested. “Once we know what we’re dealing with, we’ll be better able to formulate a plan of action.”
“Good idea,” Cavan said. “But where do we start?”
Artair smiled. “I will talk with Bethane and find out.”
Lachlan burst into the room. “You better hurry. That fool Neil is causing more problems.”
Artair entered the great hall behind his brothers to hear Neil complaining to the bishop that the witch was working her magic on them and they would soon be under her spell like all the others there.
“Zia helps my wife and sons,” Cavan said.
“We do not know that!” Neil shouted. “She could be hiding away mixing her potions, casting her spells…” He lowered his voice. “…bringing evil down upon us.”
“I’m going to kill him,” Artair whispered to his brothers.
“I’ll help,” Lachlan offered.
What angered Artair even more was the way the bishop let the man rant on. In any other village or keep, Neil would have had others believing him by now, and if he were allowed to keep it up, he might just get a few in Caithness to start doubting, and that would be all they would need.
The bishop finally raised his hand for silence, then turned his attention to Cavan. “When night falls, I will have the wedding documents in my hands and speak with Zia, or I will inform the council of your reluctance to cooperate and have a troop dispatched here to take Zia into custody until further notice. And then the Sinclares would be investigated for harboring a witch.”
Fury rushed through Artair like a raging fire, and he barely managed to contain himself. No options were left to him. How did he protect his wife?
“See it done,” the bishop ordered Cavan before retiring to his bedchamber for afternoon prayer.
Artair took a menacing step toward a retreating Neil, but Lachlan blocked his path. “There are more important things to worry about. Save him for last.”
Bethane entered the hall then, and Artair stared at her, as did his brothers, as if she might provide them with a solution.
She walked over and patted Artair’s arm. “Speak to Zia.”
“What good will that—”
She shooed him away. “Speak with her.”
He didn’t argue, and as he walked away he heard her order Cavan, though in a pleasant tone, to visit his wife and sons, and Lachlan to take his mother for a much needed walk.
Artair shook his head. He wondered how it seemed that Bethane always sensed how people needed healing even if they appeared well. She always knew the right thing to say or the right advice to offer or how to listen. He truly admired her.
He found Zia alone in the sewing room working on a tiny robe.
She laughed, patting the seat of the chair next to her. “Honora just realized that she would need to double the clothes she had made, so I’m helping her.”
“She and the babes do well?”
“They are wonderful, and ready to leave the confines of her bedchamber,” Zia said, placing the garment aside and reaching for Artair’s hand. “But you didn’t come looking for me to ask me about Honora. What has happened?”
He covered their clasped hands with his other hand, hoping in some strange way that they would be bound together so no man or force could separate them.
“Speak up,” she ordered, “for your silence frightens me.”
He kissed her softly, brushing his lips across hers, then recounted in fine detail what had just happened in the great hall.
Zia sat silently for a moment and then spoke. “For your family’s safety, it is better I leave here.”
Artair stood and yanked her out of her seat. “Don’t you dare let me ever hear you say that again.”
“But—”
“Never!” he warned adamantly.
Zia pressed her hand to his chest. “You tremble—”
“With anger that you could even think to leave me.”
Zia gasped. “I do not choose to leave you. I choose to keep you safe.”
“I,” he said empathically, “keep you safe.”
“I,” she emphasized equally, “keep you safe.”
He lowered his lips to hers. “Then we do it together, but never, ever, do we part. Promise me.”
She did, and he captured her promise with a kiss.
They hugged each other tightly.
“What are we to do?” Zia asked.
“I don’t know, but your grandmother suggested I speak with you, and I’m glad she did. Just holding you in my arms make me feel better.”