The Bewitching Twin (8 page)

R
ogan wanted to scoop Aliss up and carry her off to bed, but he was certain she would protest, argue, and dig her feet in. She would not be budged from Ivan’s bedside.

The only thing he could do was to keep vigil with her from time to time throughout the day.

She had remained by the old man’s side for over a full day. Ivan had been doing well when suddenly he had grown severely ill. He could keep nothing in his stomach, not even the broth Aliss had specially prepared. He could barely lift his head or move his arm. Everyone thought that this time was the end for him. His daughter Myra wept softly next to his bed until Aliss chased her away.

Aliss refused to give up and tended Ivan like a small child, spooning liquid into his mouth and checking constantly for fever.

“He was fine two days ago,” Myra whispered to Rogan as she drifted over to stand beside him. “He was eating like his old self. Margaret indulged him with that dark bread he favors, though I cannot stomach its bitter taste. He ate every bit of it along with my rabbit stew.”

“He turned ill soon afterward?” Rogan asked.

“The next day.”

Aliss held out an empty crock. “I need more boiled water.”

Myra hurried to fetch it.

Rogan stepped back from the edge of the mantel he had been leaning against. He had noticed that Aliss’s shoulders had slumped. He had learned from watching her time and again that it was a sure sign of fatigue combined with the burden of deep concern. When she reached this point, she often doubted herself, questioning her skills.

The only recourse was for her to step away, rest, and return renewed, refreshed, and ready to battle. In his eyes, Aliss was a relentless warrior, battling a foe that lurked in plain sight yet could not be seen.

He admired and respected her courage and resolve, but she could also be stubborn. A warrior knew when to retreat and replenish his reserves for another attack.

Aliss needed replenishing, soon, or defeat would surely claim her.

He walked over and placed a hand on Aliss’s shoulder, and felt the knotted muscle jab at his palm. “You are tired.” He kneaded the stubborn muscle with strong fingers and she slumped back against him.

“I cannot leave Ivan’s side until he improves.”

Her green eyes told him differently. They were fraught with despair that this time she might not be able to save him.

“You have done all you can.”

She grabbed his hand on her shoulder. “There must be something I am missing. Why can I not see it?”

“My father is grateful, as is my family, for all you have done for him,” Myra said, handing her the crock of water.

“It is not enough,” Aliss said and took the crock to infuse with a blend of crushed leaves.

“Is so,” came the feeble reply.

Three pairs of eyes widened in surprise as the old man’s eyes fluttered open.

“Let me go, my time,” he managed to say.

“No!” Aliss snapped. “It is not your time or you would not be fighting so hard to live. I know death. He comes when it is time and not before. He is not here for you. You will fight and you will live.”

“Stubborn,” Ivan mumbled.

“Absolutely,” Aliss said, and spooned the fresh liquid into his mouth.

It was after midnight when Ivan’s purging finally subsided and Aliss no longer feared leaving his side. She was grateful for Rogan’s arm around her waist as they walked to the cottage. She was so very tired, bone tired, every step an effort, every muscle taut with tension. Yet, there was no time to worry about her physical complaints.

“Ivan cannot survive another relapse. I must find the culprit and fast.”

“After you rest we will combine our findings and see what we can make of the puzzle.”

“No time for rest,” she argued.

“No time not to,” he said, and scooped her up into his arms. “You cannot do your best if you are not at your best.”

“There you go with words of wisdom again.” She yawned.

“There you go proving me right.”

She attempted a laugh but was too tired and rested her head on his shoulder. “Have you any thoughts as to the culprit?”

“You never stop, do you?”

“No, I cannot.” She sighed. “And it worries me.”

“Why?”

“I see how you tolerate my endless madness for healing out of necessity. I cannot imagine any husband enduring it willingly, and yet I must search for a husband who will. I had hoped I would not be forced into such a difficult situation.”

“You will not.”

She popped her head up, surprised.

“I told you that if we can find this culprit that attacks my people, then we can find a solution to your problem.”

“And if we do not find the culprit?”

Rogan stopped in front of the door to the cottage. “Do you really believe you will let the culprit escape you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then your situation will also be resolved, worry not.”

Aliss laid her head on his shoulder with a sense of relief. She did not know how it would all work out, but Rogan’s reassurance lifted the burden for now.

She was grateful when he laid her on the bed. She rolled onto her stomach, cringing at the pain that stabbed her neck and shoulders.

His hands were instantly at her neck kneading and rubbing until she wanted to die from the pure relief of his touch.

“That feels good,” she said, sighing.

“Your neck and shoulders tighten like a warrior who has drawn his bow or wielded his sword in an all-day battle.”

“Some warrior I am, needing to be carried off the battlefield.”

Rogan snickered.

“Was that a laugh?” she asked, raising her head.

His fingers kneaded along the center of her neck up into her head until she surrendered and lowered her head to the mattress.

“You walked with dignity off the battlefield.”

“Really? You believe that?”

“I witnessed it for myself,” he reassured her. “More importantly, you refused to leave until you knew all was well. Only a brave warrior would posses such spirit.”

“I am not brave. My sister is but I am not.”

He laughed. “You could fool me, considering the way you jumped off that large boulder onto the man below to protect your sister.”

Aliss sat up with a bounce. “How do you know about that incident?”

“I am the man you fell on.”

“You! I jumped on you and knocked you out?”

“Almost knocked me out,” he corrected. “You dazed me well enough that I could not move right away and I watched as you ran off to help your sister. It took courage to enter an unknown fighting arena with no thought of your own life, only that of saving your sister.”

“She is my sister and I love her. I could never leave her to die without . . .” Aliss attempted to choke back her tears, but fatigue left her without an ounce of strength and she began to cry.

Rogan reached out for her and she went willingly into his arms.

“I do not cry this much.”

“It is only the second time I have seen you cry, and you are tired.”

She continued crying. “Yes, I am.”

“And you miss your sister.”

“I do.” She nodded. “And I know how helpless she must feel not being able to help me.”

“She will see you soon enough.”

Aliss looked at him and burst into a torrent of tears. Seeing her sister would mean leaving Rogan and never seeing him again. The idea ripped at her heart.

“It is all right, Aliss,” he said, attempting to comfort her. “Very soon you will be reunited with Fiona.”

She continued to cry, her mind filled with joyous thoughts of hugging her sister, as well as a heart-wrenching vision of watching Rogan sail away forever on his ship. He would never hold her again, touch her again, kiss her again. The thought was too much and with teary eyes, she reached out to claim his lips.

He tasted so good and so very familiar, as if the taste of him belonged to her and her alone. She loved the firmness of his kiss. It made her feel that he wanted to drink deeply of her as if he could not get enough of her. The feeling was certainly mutual for she could not get enough of him and that thought enflamed her already fueled passion.

They fell back on the bed together, arms locked around each other and lips sealed in a thirst-quenching kiss that refused to end.

Aliss protested each time Rogan attempted to end their kiss, nipping at his lips, running her tongue across his mouth and wreaking havoc with their senses.

Rogan finally grabbed hold of her chin. “This must stop now.”

“Why?”

He pressed himself firmly against her.

Her shocked gasp was not for the hard feel of him but how she had reacted to it. She had moistened instantly and a tiny throbbing sensation had begun to build.

“You are right,” she said, and shoved gently at his chest to move him away.

He did move, though he did not get off the bed. “I like when we kiss.”

“So do I,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Why do you hesitate to love?”

His query startled her speechless until she thought on his question. She was about to deny her resistance to love when she answered, “I do not know.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek with his fingers. “You honor me with the truth and your trust.”

“You have proven yourself trustworthy.” She thought she caught him flinch, then scowl, then smile. The myriad of expressions confused her until she realized it was a trick of the eye caused by the hearth’s flickering flames.

“Have you thought about loving?” he asked.

Aliss had hoped he would not pursue his query; exhaustion made her much too vulnerable now. Or perhaps she didn’t want to admit that she was growing comfortable with the Wolf?

“Perhaps now and again.”

“And you dismiss the thought,” he confirmed.

“I know not what else to do with it.”

“Let yourself think on it,” he encouraged.

She yawned. “I do not have . . .” Another yawn swallowed her words and her eyes drifted shut. “Wake me with the sun,” she said before another yawn attacked.

“Rest, you need it,” he urged gently.

In minutes, she was snoring lightly and Rogan reached around her to pull a light wool blanket over her.

He lay beside her studying her lovely face. Hers was a natural beauty, her creamy skin flawless, her lashes as fiery as her mane of red curls, her slim nose in perfect symmetry with her features, and her rosy lips much too inviting.

She was bewitching and he had fallen easily under her spell. It could not be helped, fight as he did against it, it seemed inevitable. They were drawn to each other. She wanted his kisses as much as he wanted to kiss her.

Was this the prelude to love?

The signs were all there as they had been when he had fallen in love with Kendra. He had wanted to spend all the time he could with her, hold her, touch her, kiss her, and damn, how he had ached to make love to her.

He felt all those things now about Aliss, and he felt grateful, grateful to be experiencing such powerful feelings once again. He had forgotten the intensity of love; sorrow had replaced it with his wife’s death. He wanted to savor the feelings that had finally revisited him, explore them with Aliss and let the sensations take them where they might.

He reached out and stroked her silky skin, her cheek cool to his touch. She was such a special woman. He could not imagine that any man would not want her, healing propensity and all. And he could not imagine any man but him touching her, a thought that had haunted him of late.

Rogan rested his hand on her hip and watched her sleep and listened to her snore, a light purring sound. He would not mind hearing her purr in his ear each night. He would cuddle close with her; perhaps join in with his own snores to form a distinct melody of their own.

He shook his head and rolled quietly off the bed, reluctantly going to his room.

Was he crazy?

How did he think this could possibly work between them?

She had deemed him trustworthy, confiding in him.

He dropped down on the bed, pillowing his head with his arms and stretching his feet out.

He was a wolf in every sense of the word, cunning, fearless, and fiercely loyal, that loyalty being the very reason Aliss was here with him. She, however, would not view it that way, and how could he ever get her to understand?

Strange, he felt he was on the precipice of finding love once again, excited and eager and fearful that once Aliss learned the truth he would plunge over the edge alone.

“Y
our neck healed nicely,” Aliss said, slipping her yellow blouse on and tucking it in her waistband.

Anna beamed. “I am so very happy the rash is gone. And for good as long as I do not touch motherwort with my bare hands. I cannot thank you enough for helping me.”

Aliss sat down beside Anna on the grassy knoll not far from the stream’s edge. The sun was bright, the air warm for early morning and she felt refreshed having just washed from top to bottom in the stream.

She squeezed the excess water from her red hair and used the thick towel she had dried off with to soak up the rest before she attempted to comb it.

“You have thanked me many times over with all your help.”

“I enjoy healing work—” Anna paused a moment before rushing to finish her words. “I would love to be a healer.”

“You would make a very good one.”

“I would?” Anna asked, surprised.

Aliss began to comb the tangles from her hair. “The clan will need a healer once I am gone. I will teach you all I can until then and you can continue to learn on your own as I once did.”

“You really are going to leave us?”

“Once I determine the cause for the persistent illness and provide a cure, yes, I will leave.” Aliss shook her head. “You knew that. Everyone here does.”

“True enough,” Anna said sadly. “Lately, a few of us have thought differently.”

“Why is that?”

Anna shrugged and averted her eyes.

Aliss would have none of it. “Tell me, Anna, what wagging tongues say about me.”

“Nothing bad,” Anna reassured. “Many rather hoped that you would choose to remain here with us.”

“Why?” Aliss tugged at the last knotted strand of hair.

Anna grinned and leaned closer. “Many of us hoped that you and the Wolf would fall in love.”

Aliss’s mouth fell open and the comb dropped from her hand. “Fall in love?”

“We all had hoped he would find love again. The Wolf is such a good man. He deserves someone special and we all agree you are very special and just right for him.”

Aliss sputtered in shock. “H-he ab-abducted me. How can I be right for him or he for me?” She may have given the prospect thought, but to hear another voice, it startled her.

“His intentions were good. He meant you no harm; we desperately needed a skilled healer. Being the protective chieftain that he is, Rogan saw to our needs.”

“And nothing more?” Aliss asked, trying to assuage the nagging doubt that would creep up on occasion and tempt her sanity.

“What more could there be?” Anna asked curiously. “You see for yourself the illness that brought you here. We are a simple people who love and laugh and break bread together.”

Aliss’s brow wrinkled. “You break bread together.” She grabbed hold of Anna’s arm. “All bread?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does everyone eat the same type of bread?

“More eat the light than the dark bread,” Anna answered.

“Which do you and John eat?”

“The light, sweeter bread.” Anna shook her head. “The black bread is tasteless to me.”

“Not bitter?”

Anna had no more than given her head one shake when Aliss jumped up and hurried off. A surprised Anna followed quickly behind her.

Aliss hurried to find Rogan. She had to speak with him now. It was important. She heard the clash of swords and knew he practiced with his men. It was a daily ritual meant to keep their skills sharpened.

She pushed past the circle of men and stopped a safe distance from the mock battle.

“Stop!” she yelled at a high pitch that had everyone cringing.

Rogan turned a shaking head at her.

“It is important. I need to talk with you right now,” she said.

His opponent wandered off, as did the circle of men, giving the couple a modicum of privacy.

She marched right up to him. “Did Myra tell you something about black bread that Ivan had eaten before he had gotten sick?”

“Yes, she—”

“Has Derek eaten black bread?”

Rogan nodded.

“Young Daniel?”

“I am not sure.”

Aliss turned with a flourish but was stopped when Rogan grabbed her arm. “I will go with you.”

“Put down your sword, then, for this enemy must be vanquished with the mind as the weapon.”

He did and they hurried off together, Anna rushing to keep up.

In no time, Aliss discovered a trail of sickness that followed the black bread and it led to Margaret, the old woman who had originated the recipe.

Margaret was not at her cottage when they stopped and the three divided up to locate her. Anna found her and quickly fetched Aliss and Rogan.

“I saw Margaret enter James’s home, a basket on her arm,” Anna said, breathless from running.

Aliss bolted past the two, her skirt hiked up in her hands and her feet pounding the earth. She came to an abrupt halt once past the opened door and quickly searched the room.

James was sitting by the fireplace, his grandparents were at the table, and Margaret was spreading honey on chunks of black bread. They all greeted her with a smile and invited her to join them.

Aliss went over to Margaret and took the offered bread from her hand. “Thank you, but I need to speak with you first.”

Anna and Rogan entered.

“Anna, please see that everyone waits for us to share the delicious bread,” Aliss said, her hand gently guiding Margaret out the door. She nodded for Rogan to follow.

The old woman’s steps were slow and Rogan helped her to sit on a bench near the door, which Aliss closed so no one could hear their conversation.

“How long have you been baking black bread, Margaret?” Aliss asked, sitting beside her.

“As long as I can remember.” She smiled. “Not everyone has a taste for its distinct flavor.”

“So I have learned.”

Margaret pointed a finger at Rogan. “He never liked it.” She patted Aliss’s arm. “You should try it.”

“I will. Have you made it the same way all these years?”

The old woman seemed reluctant to answer.

“It is important,” Rogan said firmly.

Margaret leaned away from Aliss and cast an anxious look to Rogan. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, Margaret, not at all,” Rogan assured her.

Margaret sighed. “To be truthful, it is not I who have baked the black bread these last few months.” She held up gnarled fingers. “I cannot knead the bread as I once did so Tara has been kind enough to mix the ingredients and knead the dough and leave the loaves for me to bake.”

Aliss placed her hand on the old woman’s arm. “Have you eaten any of the bread she has prepared for you?”

Margaret cast her eyes to the ground, gave her head a shake then looked up at Aliss. “I never favored the black bread, I only make it for those who do.”

“I need the loaf you brought to James.”

“I thought he might enjoy it,” she said, and stood with Aliss’s help.

“I’m sure he will but this loaf is mine if you don’t mind,” Aliss said.

Aliss soon had the black bread safely in her hands and she and Rogan went directly to Tara’s cottage.

The young woman was busy mixing another batch of bread and welcomed them with a smile and an enthusiastic greeting.

“We are here to see if you can help us with something,” Aliss explained.

“Of course,” Tara said, and wiped her hands on the cloth tucked by a corner in her waistband.

“You have been baking bread for Margaret, but you don’t eat any yourself?” Aliss asked.

“She confided her secret finally, did she?” Tara asked with a laugh and shook her head. “And no, I don’t like the black bread though Daniel does.”

Aliss asked, “Have you followed her recipe exactly?”

Tara hesitated. “Has she complained of my bread?”

“No, she has praised your baking skills.”

Tara sighed, relieved, and plopped down on a chair at the table. “Good, I didn’t want her to find out that I accidentally changed her recipe.”

“How so?” Aliss asked.

“I’m not very good at identifying herbs, most look the same to me, and only recently did I realize I had been using the wrong herb in Margaret’s black bread and returned to her original ingredient.”

“That would explain why the illness suddenly stopped,” Aliss said to Rogan.

“Illness?” Tara said, grabbing at her chest. “I caused everyone to get ill?”

“Do not worry yourself,” Aliss said. “Have you any of the herb you had used?”

“A little, I think.” Tara looked in her crocks and soon presented a single leaf to Aliss.

One whiff of the sickly-sweet dried leaf and Aliss knew she had caught the culprit. The old healer whom she had learned from had taught her to distinguish scents. She had warned that a knowledgeable nose could save lives.

“This is poisonous,” Aliss said.

“You are sure?” Tara asked, tears welling in her eyes.

“I am sure.”

Tara looked to Rogan. “I am sorry. I did not know. You will not make me leave here, will you? Daniel and I have no place to go. This is the only home he has ever known and the only place I have ever felt wanted and safe.”

“You are not going anywhere, Tara. This is your home and here is where you will stay. I told you when you first arrived here years ago that you became part of this clan and will remain so until you take your last breath.”

“But I have hurt my family.”

“Not on purpose,” Aliss reminded.

“No one will trust me ever again,” Tara said sadly.

“No one need ever know of this,” Rogan said firmly.

“You will tell no one?” Tara asked with surprised relief.

“It is not necessary for anyone to know. The problem has been solved and no more will grow ill. That is what matters.”

“You are a good man, Rogan,” Tara said through tears. “I am in your debt.”

Aliss was certain there would be no more illnesses. She also made sure to teach Anna how to determine which plants were poisonous. That she held the teaching session out under the bright afternoon sun where the women wandered by and sat to join them was no accident.

Aliss visited with those who were still recovering, confident now that they would be well in no time. James was growing stronger every day and would soon be completely healed. The herb garden flourished and she taught Anna the properties of the different plants and mixtures to aid in specific healings.

The days rolled by, and one by one, the people healed nicely. No more grew ill and Margaret’s black bread continued to be in demand.

Summer was in full bloom. Children ran in play, healthy babies were delivered, gardens flourished along with the people. The Wolf clan was doing well.

It was time for Aliss to return home.