Under The Highlander's Spell Part 5

He did recall how after he had rescued her, while on his horse, she had rested her head to his chest but he had thought nothing of it, merely her need to feel protected after a frightening ordeal.

This, however, was different, and he liked the thought that she would seek his shoulder to rest upon.

It would be my pleasure, he said.

She smiled, rested against his side and dropped her head to his shoulder with a sigh. Your brother suffered a severe wound to his shoulder, his leg, and he had several damaged ribs. His face had been badly beaten. A friend of our village brought him here.

A friend?

A friend to us is anyone who knows and respects this as a place of healing.

How would one know that? he asked.

They are informed.

How so?

She yawned and moved her head from his shoulder to his chest. By people who trust.

He slipped his arm around her, liking the feel of her body against his. You avoid a direct answer.

Not true.

Dont trust me? he asked, giving her arm a rub and catching the soft hint of roses drifting off her.

Actually, I do. Though I dont know you long, you have demonstrated your trustworthiness. You didnt anger when you learned of the sentinels. You didnt fret when I wouldnt let your men into the village. And you left the cottage when my grandmother dismissed you, though you did not want to.

You realized that?

She nodded. I can understand why you feel the way you do about barbarians, and I cant say I blame you. I have tended many who suffered at their hands, but as a healer, I do not choose whom I heal; I only know I must heal those who need it.

I realized that myself after giving it thought.

A quality of yours I admire. You look and find reason in situations, instead of acting foolishly first and thinking it over later.

While you rush in, he said, and gave her a playful poke in the arm.

With reason, she defended.

Or is it foolishness?

Or life saving, she argued.

Or life threatening. He didnt like that thought; the idea that her need to heal could continue to place her in danger. He could save her only so many times, and then, one time He could be too late.

The idea ate at his gut. After all, he was a warrior, and a warrior protected the weak.

He almost laughed. He could never envision Zia as weak. She was too full of life, too pa.s.sionate about all she did.

She yawned again. I can take care of myself.

Can you, now?

Another yawn followed and she burrowed deeper against his chest. I most certainly can.

Artair didnt respond. He remained silent and waited, and sure enough, in a few minutes she was snoring lightly.

Bethane approached him and he cautioned silence with a finger to his lips then whispered, Shes exhausted.

Bethane kept her tone soft. She fought hard for him.

He is?

Still holding on. The night will tell. You will see her tucked in?

I will. You need not worry, she is safe with me, Artair said.

I know, Bethane said with a smile, then walked away, Nessie following her.

Chapter 6.

Zia woke with a stretch then bolted up in bed. She was wearing her skirt and blouse from yesterday and it took her a moment to realize why. When she did, she smiled. She recalled being with Artair under the tree. He had to be the one who carried her to bed and tucked her in, clothes and all. How gallant of him.

She looked over at the thin drape that separated them and saw that it was pulled back, the spa.r.s.e room empty. She hurried out of bed and quickly changed garments, choosing a violet skirt with a white blouse, sprigs of heather skillfully embroidered around the low neckline. After slipping her sandals on, she entered the main room, to find that empty as well. She made haste to the stream behind the cottage, scrubbed her face and hands with the cool water and saw to taming a few wild strands of short hair by dampening them.

Finished and feeling famished, she headed to her grandmothers cottage, where she usually took breakfast. Besides, there was an ill warrior to tend, and since her grandmother hadnt disturbed her during the night, that could mean only two things. The warrior had succ.u.mbed to his wounds or survived the night without incident.

She hoped Artair was with Bethane. She was looking forward to seeing him, recalling with pleasure the feel of his hard chest, though it had pillowed her head comfortably enough. But it was the elemental scent of him that had enticed her most; earth, wind, and fire. He was scented with all three, and oh how she loved it.

Zia entered the cottage with a flourish and a smile.

You missed Artair, Bethane said.

Neither her flourish or smile faltered. It was not her way. Life was too precious to waste on disappointment and too short not to enjoy.

Ill find him, though Nessie prefers your company, Zia said, and plopped down at the table to join her grandmother in her morning oatmeal porridge drizzled with honey.

Bethane patted the dogs head. Shes grown attached to me.

Id say so. She follows you all over and listens to you much better than she does Artair.

She has a mind of her own and I understand that, Bethane said, and received a lick from the dog.

How is the warrior?

Surprisingly, he continues to sleep and heal.

Good, Zia said with a firm nod. I hoped and prayed for his recovery.

Artair heals as well, though in a different way, and will seek more questions, Bethane said.

Zia scooped up a spoonful of porridge. He already has. He asked who brought his brother here.

And?

I spoke the truth. I told him a friend.

Bethane nodded. That is the truth, but we both know there is more to it, and when he discovers"

I will tell him when the time is right, Zia said. Do you know where he is?

He has gone to speak with his men. What do you think of Artair?

Zia rested her elbow on the edge of the table and her chin in the palm of her hand. She tapped her cheek with her fingers while thinking over her grandmothers question. She knew Bethane would not rush an answer out of her. She would want her to think it through and reach a sensible conclusion.

She sputtered at the silly thought of thinking it through and being sensible and laughed out loud, Hes gorgeous!

Bethane nodded. I thought as much. Have you looked inside him yet?

Theres goodness there. She scratched her head. But he has an overly sensible nature and a strong responsibility to duty.

Good qualities, her grandmother a.s.sured.

Zia shrugged. He knows nothing of pa.s.sion.

You could teach him.

Zias grin grew large. I plan to.

After finis.h.i.+ng breakfast with her grandmother, Zia went straight to the see how the barbarian was doing. Bethane would be busy making the rounds of the village, visiting with the women whose birthing time was near.

The women of the village took time to sit with the ill and those recovering so that Bethane and Zia would be free to tend others. Zia had long ago found that being a healer had benefits and one of those was the many friends.h.i.+ps she formed with women and the ease with which they spoke. It was also how she had learned so much about men, women and s.e.x. Women openly discussed intimacy, some fearing there was something wrong with them because they enjoyed it so much while others complained that they couldnt stand it. The many chats had helped her to help other women and to better understand her own desires.

Tara, a robust woman with a gentle smile, who often spoke candidly with her, was busy working on a piece of embroidery while the barbarian slept.

Has he stirred? Zia asked, placing a tender hand to his head. There was no trace of fever, which boded well for him.

Hes rested soundly, Tara said, gathering her things.

You gave him the broth?

On schedule. You will look after him now? Tara asked.

Zia nodded. I will keep an eye on him while I tend to any who seek healing today.

It was busier than usual, a few sc.r.a.pes, an abrasion that required st.i.tches, a stomach ailment that actually had Zia concerned, and Artair showing up worried over one of his men.

Its James. Hes complained of these ailments before but no healer has been successful in helping him.

Bring him here, Zia said, not doubting his word, not thinking that he just wished one of his men in the village. He would not do that. Concern showed on his face, and hed sought her permission first.

The stout man was in agony when Artair hurried him into the healing cottage. Zia saw to him immediately, concerned for the man she had enjoyed fis.h.i.+ng with.

She questioned him and learned that his stomach problem occurred on a regular basis. She mixed a combination of herbs and had him drink the potion. It was sweet tasting so he made no objection.

In minutes his stomach soothed and he smiled. It feels better, James said rubbing his healed stomach in amazement.

At that moment a painful roar filled the air and Zia dropped the cup in her hand and rushed to the other room, Artair and James following.

Zia fought to keep the barbarian still, trying to soothe him with calming words, but he raged in fear and pain.

To her surprise, Artair came to the rescue. He clamped heavy hands down on the mans shoulders and ordered James to hold his legs still.

Its all right. Youre safe. No one will hurt you. Be still and you will grow strong, Artair ordered.

The barbarian responded to the commanding tone and settled down.

Are you in pain? Zia asked, leaning over the man.

He nodded vigorously.

She quickly ladled broth into a cup from a warming caldron and held it to his lips. This will ease your pain.

He eagerly sipped at the brew until there was nothing left, then grabbed her arm. Zia had to stop Artair from ripping the injured mans arm off her.

I"I"

You will recover if you rest and trust that we will help you, Zia a.s.sured him, placed a cool cloth to his brow in hopes it would keep fever away, and gently caressed his shoulder.

He settled, but only after taking hold of her hand. You wont leave me?

I am here, as are others.

He shook his head. You. You must stay with me.

I will, she a.s.sured him, and felt Artair bristle beside her.

Then the barbarian drifted off to sleep, and she, Artair, and James left him to rest comfortably.

James excused himself, feeling fit and ready to return to Patrick the lone Sinclare warrior who waited outside the entrance of the village.

Zia stopped him. Bring Patrick here. I wish to keep an eye on your stomach ailment and there is no sense for him to remain alone.