Highland Healer (25 page)

Shocked silence filled the hall. The dancers quickly cleared out of the space between Coira and Toran.

“Nay, Toran. No’ until yer witch comes to me. We’ve unfinished business, we do.”

Aileana started to move but Toran grabbed her hand, keeping her next to him. “Nay, lass,” he hissed, “I dinna ken what’s she’s about, but I dinna want ye anywhere near her.”

“She’ll kill the girl.”

“No’ if I can help it,” Toran vowed and turned back to Coira. The other children had backed away from her, but some of the men were starting to edge closer. If Toran distracted her, that might give them a chance to stop her without harming the lass under her knife.

“What business is that?” Toran replied then to Coira, raising his voice.

“She kens it. She stole ye from me. Bewitched ye away from yer chosen mate, and yer duty to yer clan to ally with mine. Now ye plan to send me away, and my time is short. No one else here has had the wit to do it, so it falls to me to rid the clan of the witch.”

Toran stiffened beside Aileana. In contrast, her knees weakened with Coira’s words and she grasped Toran’s arm to steady herself. Had it come to this? A witch hunt here in the midst of the Great Hall? On this day, of all days? But no, Senga had said Coira was more jealous of her than fearful of any witch, and angry that she had not been chosen lady. So what was Coira up to?

“Yer problem is with me, then, not the child,” Aileana said, speaking up for the first time. Toran squeezed her arm with one big hand, but she ignored him. “Let her go.”

“No’ until ye come to me,” Coira answered, tossing her head back. “Here. I’ll no’ risk marching into the midst of this lot.” She glanced around at the nearby adults and everyone froze, but Coira seemed not to notice that some had already moved closer to her. “I’ll deal with ye here.”

“Aileana, nay,” Toran commanded in a low voice, but she pulled her arm free and turned to face him.

“A child of the clan needs aid that only I can give,” she told him softly but firmly. “Let me be. I can handle her.”

“Nay, ye canna. She’s no’ in her right mind.”

“It doesn’t matter, Toran. I will do it.” To do so might mean exposing her most threatening secret to the entire clan, but with a child at risk, she had no choice. If Aileana could not talk Coira into releasing the girl, she’d have to use her Voice to subdue her. She knew doing so would merely confirm in Donal’s eyes that she was wildly dangerous, but if Coira would not listen to reason, there might be no other way. Aileana would cope with the consequences when the child was safe.

“I’m coming with ye,” Toran said as she stepped away from the table and began to walk toward Coira. Aileana ignored him, focusing instead on holding her head high, and locking her gaze with Coira’s. She couldn’t do anything until she was close enough to touch the madwoman, and she feared Coira would slash the girl’s throat in her fury before she could get that close. Toran’s presence was like a solid wall at her back, ensuring that she could face an attack head on without fear of being flanked by anyone who sympathized with Coira.

“So this is what it takes to get ye to come to me, Toran,” Coira snarled as she watched him follow Aileana. “Ye canna tell me yerself that ye banish me, but send yer minions to do it for ye. Did ye hope never to see me again, Lathan? Now that ye wed yer witch? I doubt ye expected to see me again, now did ye?”

Toran didn’t answer. Aileana felt another presence arrive at her back and glanced aside. Donal! Shoulder to shoulder with his laird? Or ready to support Coira? It didn’t matter. This was her fight. “Stay back,” she told them, risking a quick glance at Toran. “Don’t interfere.”

They dropped back two paces, but they neither stopped, nor gave her more room than that.

She stopped a pair of paces away from the lass Coira held in front of herself like a shield. The child’s eyes were wide with fear and tears streaked her ruddy face. So far, the blade at her throat had not broken the skin—a small miracle given the hatred on Coira’s face as she stared at Aileana. “I am here, Coira. Let the child go.”

“Come closer.”

Aileana took a step forward. She could almost feel Toran’s fists clench behind her. But he made no move to stop her.

“Closer,” Coira demanded.

Aileana complied, her gaze never leaving the other woman’s face. “I’m here as you demanded,” she said calmly. “You promised to let her go. You can do so now.”

With a cry that was more of a wail than an expression of outrage, Coira shoved the girl aside and swung the knife at Aileana. Aileana reached out just as Coira swung the blade, wincing as it plunged into her shoulder below the collarbone. Shocked by the sudden attack, she still managed to touch Coira’s face, but it was too late to try to use her Voice. She heard the gasp that echoed around the hall. Everything seemed frozen. No one moved. Coira, still holding the hilt, sneered at her in satisfaction.

Then, almost dreamlike, Aileana saw Donal stepped around one side of her, Toran the other. Their dirks flashed in the middle, Toran’s held at Coira’s throat, Donal’s buried to the hilt in her chest. Coira widened her eyes in surprise and she let go of the knife she’d plunged into Aileana. She took one step back, gaze still locked with Aileana’s, before she crumpled to the floor.

Toran sheathed his dirk as he spun then grabbed Aileana by both arms. “Sit, lass,” he commanded as someone shoved a bench their way.

Aileana had come out of her shocked daze when Toran touched her. She felt for the extent of her injury, and sighed in relief when she found the damage confined to the muscle and breast tissue above it. “Toran, help me,” she said, relieved that her voice sounded stronger than she felt. “I need to help Coira, but you have to pull her blade out of me first.”

“Nay, lass, wait for Senga.”

“Nay. There’s no time. Do it now, Toran. Don’t make me do it myself.”

Senga hurried up at that moment, took one look at the bloody tableau and sniffed. “We’re well rid of that one.”

“Nay, Senga,” Aileana told her. “She’s hurt, and needs my help. Tell your laird to remove Coira’s blade from my shoulder. Then you can aid me.”

Senga looked skeptical, but nodded. “Do as she says, Laird.”

He started to protest, but both women gave him such determined looks that he had no choice but to comply. He gripped the hilt reluctantly and slowly, careful not to twist or shift the blade in any way, and pulled it free. Aileana fought to keep her expression bland, despite the pain that swamped her. She had a job to do. “Put pressure on my wound. This will only take a moment.”

Senga pressed a clean cloth to the blood welling from the top of Aileana’s breast and winced as Aileana paled against the pain. “Hurry, lass.”

“Aye,” Aileana gasped. But in a moment it was done. The wound was not healed, but the bleeding stopped, and she could do what she must before she finished with it. Senga insisted on tying another clean cloth over the still-gaping cut before she allowed Aileana to drop to her knees beside her wounded attacker. “Toran,” Aileana commanded as soon as her head stopped spinning from kneeling over Coira, “this is just like the arrow in Jamie. Pull this blade slowly. I’ll work as ye go. Don’t stop, but go slow.”

Toran knelt beside her and did as she bade him, thankfully for once without any argument. Coira was badly hurt, but Aileana knew that this wound was nothing compared to the pain in her heart that had driven Coira to take such desperate action. Aileana had sensed it when she touched her face. Yes, Coira feared her. But most of what Aileana had sensed was a deep, abiding sense of loss, an aching emptiness that had stolen the rest of her breath after Coira’s blade pierced her. Coira couldn’t understand why Toran had refused her. His was the latest of many rejections in her life. Her clan had sent her far away. Aileana could not begin to guess what had happened to her there to drive her this far from home.

Aileana worked quickly, knowing her strength would be severely limited by the wound Coira had inflicted on her. Donal’s blade had bitten deep in his bid to protect his laird’s bride. Coira’s lung was filling with blood. As Toran pulled the blade from Coira’s body, Aileana worked quickly to stop the bleeding and mend the torn tissue Donal’s dirk had left behind. Finally satisfied that she had done all she could, she did not allow Coira to awaken, but lay a healing sleep on her.

“Senga, keep someone with her. She’ll sleep into tomorrow. But if she has any trouble breathing, come get me right away.”

“Nay, lass, ye need to rest.”

“I will. But Coira needs our care. She was sore troubled before she did this terrible thing. But now I think she’ll awaken very sorry for her actions. We must guard her well, so that she has a chance to make a better life for herself.”

“It will be done, lass. Dinna fash.”

Aileana smiled at Senga, then at Toran, then at Donal. “Thank you, Donal, for protecting me. I know you believe I’m a threat but…”

“Nay, lass,” Donal said, interrupting her. “After the grace I’ve just seen ye display, to risk yerself to save a child, and then to save the life of yer attacker and forgive her actions, well, Toran has been right all along. There’s a good heart in ye, lass, and I’m glad to have ye in the clan.”

“Thank you, Donal.”

“And now, if ye’ll help Senga get Coira settled and post a guard,” Toran interjected, “I’ll get Aileana to bed so that she can rest and recover.”

“Wait,” Aileana said, as Toran bent to pick her up. “Where’s the lass Coira held hostage?”

“Here,” a woman’s voice answered. Aileana looked around to see the child, tears dried, sitting on her mother’s lap. The mother looked more upset than the girl. Aileana took a step toward them and smiled when Toran took her arm to assist her to them. She knelt in front of the child and touched her cheek. “Are you well, lass?”

“Mommy says so,” the little girl replied shyly.

“Ye sacrificed yerself to save my daughter,” the woman said, fresh tears springing to her eyes. “That madwoman could have killed her.”

“But she did not. She bore many burdens that wounded her, but I think she’ll be better now. And as for you, little one”—Aileana turned her attention back and brushed her fingers across the girl’s forehead. It would take so little of her talent to make the child forget…she reached gently and told her, using the Voice in a whisper that not even her mother would detect—
“It was just a bad dream. But your mother is here and all is well.”

A shy smile lit the girl’s face and Aileana dropped her hand to her side. Toran helped her stand. “She’ll sleep and remember this only as a dream,” Aileana told her mother. “She’ll be herself in the morning.”

“Thank ye, Healer…Lady,” the woman choked out before turning to hide her tears in her daughter’s curly hair.

“Let’s go,” Toran said.

Aileana nodded. “I’m ready.”

Toran scooped her up. As they started toward the stairs, someone started clapping. First it was one, then several, then it became a thunderous din that echoed around the Great Hall. Toran stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to look down on the people of his clan. “Ye’ve seen the worth of yer new lady. Let this be the last of the slander and of the violence.”

Aileana blushed as the clapping began anew, punctuated by shouts and cheers. She could see Donal at the back of the room, overseeing Coira’s removal from the hall with Senga. Before he left, he turned and caught her eye. A rare smile lit his face and Aileana smiled back. All was well. Then she winced at the twinge in her chest as Toran turned her away from the noise and into the hallway leading to his chambers. So, not quite all. She still had some work to do.

****

Toran watched Aileana settle in front of the fire. She seemed disinclined to talk, and he wasn’t sure he was even capable of speech. Not yet. Not until his belly stopped trying to climb out of his throat. Gods! Coira had nearly killed her. A few inches lower and the blade would have pierced Aileana’s heart. Bad enough the damage she had done, to mar Aileana’s beautiful breast, to weaken her shoulder, hell, to cause her even the slightest pain at all. Toran couldn’t think of a penalty severe enough to punish Coira for what she had done and nearly done.

The anguish of it was eating him alive. It was all he could do to stand quietly and let Aileana’s attention be absorbed by the fire in the hearth and what healing she could do for herself while she waited for Elspie to bring the sustenance she needed.

“Laird?” Elspie voice roused him from his fretting. She stood at the door, tray in hand, hesitant for the first time in his memory to enter Aileana’s chamber. Perhaps she sensed her laird’s mood.

“’Tis all right, Elspie,” he told her, his tone more gruff than he’d intended. “Come in. Aileana needs what ye bring.”

Aileana lifted her head from her study of the flames in the fireplace. “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined the dress.” Then she turned her gaze back to the fire.

The sound of her voice started Toran. She hadn’t spoken since he’d brought her to her chamber.

Elspie put the tray on the table beside her and took Aileana’s chin in her hand, studying her eyes. “Nay, lass. Moina will simply redesign the neckline,” she told her. “Anyway, better the dress than ye.” She put the tankard of sweet cider into Aileana’s good hand. “Now, drink this down, and eat what I brought ye. Then ye can sleep.”

Aileana obeyed Elspie without a word. Toran shifted where he stood, arms crossed, glowering at his bride. He’d never seen her so unresponsive after healing, even after she exhausted herself dealing with Jamie’s wounds. But he’d never seen her attacked and injured, either. Perhaps she never had been, and despite her special Talent, or perhaps because of it, it was more of a shock to her than to others who had been through the same kind of thing.

Damn, he had not intended to spend the evening with her this way after celebrating their handfasting with the clan. Nay, he’d had a joyous, aye, even vigorous celebration in mind. Now that would wait until Aileana had time to fully recover. In the meantime, he’d deal with Coira.

He’d once thought to find a place for Coira in the clan, though not as lady, and cement an alliance with her people. That could not happen now, especially not after Toran meted out a punishment that fit her crime. At the very least, he must banish her as soon as she was well enough to travel. But her attack on the Lathan lady merited repercussions that could have their clans feuding for generations, exactly what Toran had wanted to prevent.