Under the Highlander's Spell (23 page)

“We shall see,” the bishop said sharply. “I will talk to those in your village she has treated.”

Artair simply nodded, staring at the bishop. Something about him appeared familiar, but he couldn't say what. And oddly enough, he sensed that the bishop could be a fair man. He had no idea why. It was something he sensed and it gave him a shred of hope.

“Where were you and Zia wed?”

“The village Black.”

The bishop tried to cover his startled look, but he failed. He remained unnerved.

“You know of it?” Artair asked, though the man obviously knew something.

“Some believe a place of healing, while others—” He glared at Artair. “—believe it a place of pagans.”

A
rtair hurried along the road to intercept Bethane and her people, worried over their safety. If the bishop thought the village Black a place of pagans, how would he treat them when they arrived?

He hadn't wasted a minute once Cavan returned to the hall. Cavan had appeared relieved, so Artair assumed all was well with Honora. He had signaled his brother that this wasn't the case with the bishop and that he should approach with caution.

Cavan had fabricated a mission that required Artair's immediate attention and served as a ruse for his necessary departure from the keep. The bishop hadn't been at all suspicious, though he made it known that he would speak with Cavan there and then.

Artair caught up with the approaching group from the village Black only a few hours from the keep.

Bethane greeted him with a hug and a smile. “It is good to see you again.”

Artair could not get over her beauty. Though her lines and wrinkles attested to advanced years, Bethane still seemed young. She walked alongside a cart with firm and steady steps. Her long white braid lay over her shoulder, on her chest, and shined silky soft, and her skin glowed as if the sun kissed it pink.

“You have grown more beautiful than when I last saw you,” Artair said, walking alongside her and searching the surrounding area for Nessie.

“Tall tales will not set you in my good graces, for you are already there,
dear son
.”

Artair felt a thump to his chest when she referred to him as son. It pleased him to know that she thought of him that way. “I speak only the truth.”

Bethane patted his arm. “I know, which is why it soothes my heart to know that you would lie to protect my granddaughter.”

“I fear I need to ask the same of you and your people, and advise that you may be placing yourselves in danger by your visit.”

“Tell me,” Bethane said softly.

Artair detailed the entire situation.

“And this bishop's name?” Bethane asked when he was through explaining.

“Bishop Edmond Aleatus.”

She nodded and raised her hand signaling the group to stop for a rest. She took Artair's arm and walked with him to sit beneath a tree, the fallen autumn leaves providing them with a cushion.

“I believe once the bishop meets with Zia, he will see that she is no more than a good woman and good healer.”

“I have hope,” Artair admitted with a sigh.

“Keep hope strong. It is the best you can do for Zia. Besides, your plan is sound and I am sure it will work.” She smiled. “I am glad I will be here when you exchange vows with my granddaughter.”

“Zia will be too. She misses you.”

“And I her, but you two will visit me often, as I will you. After all, I will want to see my great-granddaughter and all the grandchildren to follow.”

Artair stared at her dumbstruck. “Zia is not sure she is—”

“She is,” Bethane said, nodding. “And Zia will give you a daughter first. All women born of our line have daughters first.”

“Every one of them?”

“It is so as far back as our lineage goes,” Bethane confirmed.

The thought struck Artair like a blot of lightning. “She will—” He stopped and grinned. “My daughter will be a healer like her mother and all those before her.”

Bethane nodded, her smile growing.

“I will keep them both safe,” he said adamantly.

“As they will you. As for this bishop,” she said, “I think it would be best for me and the others from our village to keep our distance from him, for a while at least.”

“It might be best until we see how things go, or perhaps until after Zia and I wed.”

Bethane nodded, agreeing, and then the nod slowly turned to a shake. “Zia tends a troubled birth?”

Artair might have thought the woman a witch if he believed in witches. But he understood that Bethane had a special connection with Zia, and sensed when her granddaughter needed help, needed her.

Artair explained about Honora.

“Twins, how wonderful,” Bethane said joyously. “But Zia will need help.” She sprang to her feet far more easily than one would expect, and laughed when Artair stood and his knee cracked loudly. “I have something that will help that aging knee.”

They both laughed.

“Where is Nessie?” Artair finally asked, not having caught sight of her.

“She refused to the leave the village.”

“I believe she has chosen a new home and if it makes her happy then that's where she should stay,” Artair said.

“It is a wise man who gives a woman what she wants,” Bethane replied with a grin.

 

Dusk covered the land by the time they reached the keep. Bethane went with Mave to see how James was doing and help settle the young woman in his cottage, while Artair saw to it that the rest of the group had places to stay. Once he finished, he went to James's cottage to escort Bethane to the keep.

“She's already gone to the keep,” Mave said. “She knew Zia needed her.”

Artair didn't linger. He immediately set out, hoping Bethane had been able to avoid the bishop. He was relieved to discover that the bishop had retired to his room with a request not to be disturbed for the remainder of the evening.

Artair hurried to see Zia and cringed when he heard the moans drifting down the hall on his approach to the room.

He knocked and Addie let him in.

“Don't be long,” his mother warned. “We have our hands full.”

Artair almost ran to Zia and scooped her up into his arms. She looked utterly exhausted though alert. Her sleeves were rolled up and a white bib apron covered the front of her. Her hands were sparkling clean but then he had noticed that she washed them often when treating the ill.

If he thought Zia looked exhausted, he turned pale when he saw Honora.

“Now you know why Cavan can no longer enter this room,” Zia said, standing alongside him.

A forceful tug at his arm had him turning away and looking at Zia. “She is—”

“Doing her best and needs no audience.” Zia escorted him out of the room and into the hall. “I have only a few minutes.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Keep Cavan away, though let him know that all is
well, and don't tell me anything of the bishop until the delivery is over.”

“The babes are being stubborn, not wanting to be born yet?” he asked hopefully.

Zia shook her head. “One is turned the wrong way, which is what I suspected, and it prevents both from being born.”

“What will you do?” he asked anxiously.

“What I've been taught. What I know. Now go and see to Cavan. I will send word now and again with your mother.”

She turned and hurried back into the room before Artair could even give her a kiss. This was going to be a long night, for he knew that Cavan, Lachlan, and he would not sleep until the ordeal was over.

 

Artair stretched the aches from his shoulders as he raised his head and worked the kinks out of his back. He had fallen asleep along with his brothers at the long table in the great hall hours ago. Cavan had sworn he wouldn't sleep, but as the night wore on and pitchers of ale were drunk, the three of them dropped one by one into a sound slumber, Artair being the last, and now the first to wake.

When he saw his mother enter the hall, he shook his brothers awake.

Cavan jumped up wavering, the deep sleep not yet gone from him.

Addie smiled and took Cavan's hand. “Come meet your sons.”

“Honora?” Cavan choked.

“Is tired but well.”

Artair and Lachlan slapped their brother on the back and teasingly praised his prowess for having not one but two sons.

Addie looked at the two of them before she walked off with Cavan. “Well, do you want to see your nephews?” she called over her shoulder as they moved away.

The two men stumbled over each other, eager to meet the new babes, but Artair more eager to see how his wife was.

Damn, but he could think of her no other way. To him Zia was his wife and always would be. The vows they exchanged would see them properly bound, but he was bound to her far deeper than any documents could make them.

Love had seen to that, and love would continue to bind them.

He was the last to enter the room, Lachlan teasingly pushing past him, but he didn't mind. His eyes were set to find his wife before anything else. He didn't have to search for her, she came right to him, slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

It was her special place there nestled against him. She came there when she needed comforting, when she was tired, when she wanted to be near him. It was familiar to her and to him and he did what he always did, wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to him.

Soft mewling cries caught everyone's attention, and all eyes went to the twins yawning in their mother's arms.

“They're so small,” Cavan said, looking on his sons with pride.

“So were all of you,” Addie said with a laugh. “And glad I was of it.”

The women laughed.

Cavan knelt beside the bed and reached out to tenderly touch his wife's face. “I can't believe—”

“Neither can I.” Honora laughed, then winced.

“You are in pain?” Cavan asked anxiously, and turned to Zia.

“It is normal and will pass,” she said, to Cavan's relief.

Soon everyone was taking turns hovering over the twins, taking hold of their tiny hands.

It was Lachlan who asked, “Have you thought of names?”

Cavan looked to his wife and she smiled. “The firstborn…”

Honora nodded to her right to let everyone know who that twin was.

“…will be named Tavish, for Father.”

Addie wiped a tear from her eye.

“The second,” Cavan said, pointing to the little lad in Honora's left arm, “will be named—” He stopped and looked to his mother. “—Ronan.”

Addie couldn't contain her tears, and it was Bethane who went to her and slipped an arm around her. “What an honor that will be for him when he returns.”

Artair felt a sting to his heart. Did Bethane know something they didn't? But then, that seemed to be her way. He caught the same questioning look in Cavan's eyes that had to be in his own, and sensed that his brother would speak with Bethane about Ronan.

“I think there are some who need rest,” Bethane said, glancing around the room. She nodded to Addie, and the two women each took a babe from Honora. “Cavan, you may visit for a while with your wife and sons, though they will sleep. And Zia…” She turned to her granddaughter. “You need to rest.”

Artair was pleased that Zia didn't argue. She simply nodded, and along with Lachlan, they were shooed out of the room.

“I'll see to the bishop,” Lachlan said, and gave Zia a hug. “Thank you for helping Honora and the babes. This is surely a joyful day.”

“I am pleased to help and will do the same for you and your wife.”

Lachlan walked off laughing.

Artair walked with Zia to their bedchamber, yawns attacking Zia the whole way.

“I am bone-tired,” she said when they entered the room.

“I'll see you settled in bed and then I must go see to the bishop. With Cavan occupied, I can't have the bishop roaming around on his own, especially with those from your village here.”

Zia sighed as if she didn't want to ask but felt it a necessity. “Tell me of the bishop.”

Artair told her as he helped her disrobe and slip into a soft wool nightdress. Her beauty wasn't lost on him, but he contained his passion. She was tired and he had to see to the bishop.

“He is a man sharp of mind and clear of sight. I do not believe he is a man easily fooled, though I do believe he is a fair man.”

“Why?” she asked, standing still as he tied the ribbon at her chest.

“I can't say why. There's something about his eyes that tells me as much.” He shook his head. “It doesn't make sense. It's as if I know him, and yet I don't.”

“I trust your opinion,” she said on a yawn.

“And you trust me to keep you safe?” he asked spreading his arms around her to draw her up close against him.

“You needn't keep asking me that,” she said, and with another yawn rested her head on his shoulder. “I know without doubt that you will protect me.”

He scooped her up into his arms, fighting the notion to drop down in bed with her and make love to her. “Good. Then you can sleep without worry.”

She slipped her arms around his neck, nuzzling the crevices with her lips before whispering, “If I weren't so tired we would—”

“Don't say it!” he snapped. “I'm already fighting the overwhelming urge to make love to you.”

“Good, then it isn't only my passion I feel.”

He laid her carefully down on the bed and pulled the wool blanket over her.

She grabbed his arm and tucked him down close to her. “It is you, not I, who cast a spell, for I cannot be near you without my passion soaring.”

“You tempt me too much, woman,” he said with a growl, fighting the lust that had grabbed firm hold of his loins.

“We could be quick,” she teased with a gentle nip at his lips.

“Damn,” he mumbled, and continued mumbling as he threw the blanket back to touch her intimately, only to find her wet and ready. That was it, he was finished, he had to have her and he entered her with a sharp quickness that had her crying out in pleasure.

It was a fast mating, but a thoroughly satisfying one that had both of them sighing with the beauty of it.

“Tonight, I will take my time with you,” he said, bending over the bed to kiss her before he left.

“Promises, promises,” she chortled, and waved him off.

He playfully grabbed her chin. “I will make you squirm with the want of me.”

“You always make me squirm with the want of you.”