Under the Highlander's Spell Read online

“Whatever for? This is pure pleasure for me. I should be thanking you.”

  She wondered if he knew that his words hinted at his love for her and paved the pathway to her heart.

  “Zia—”

  “Please, no discussions, no questions. I just want to enjoy this quiet time with you, just you and me, nothing else.”

  She was grateful he obliged. But why stop him? Did she fear hearing him admit his love? For when he did, decisions would need to be made. Was she ready for them?

  All troubled thoughts quickly vanished when he took the soap and ran it over her body, slipping and sliding over every curve, valley, mound, and down the length of her. His strokes were lazy soft caresses that covered every inch of her.

  She sighed, though it sounded more like a moan, and when his touch turned intimate—firing her body, her very soul—she reciprocated until they came together, she sitting on top of him, her legs around his waist as he glided into her.

  The cramped space left little room for movement, but his firm hands grasped her waist and set them in motion. It didn’t take long, though they were far from done, for he dried them both with hurried hands and had them on the bed in no time, where he proceeded to kiss her entire body.

  They were tender kisses that drove her wild and soon had her begging for much more, and he obliged time and time again until they both could stand it no more and he took her in his arms and entered her for one last ride that left them both utterly breathless.

  Sleep claimed Artair fast enough, and she was glad, for the night had been perfect and she didn’t want it spoiled by talk that would irritate either of them. Her eyes fluttered closed and she smiled. It had been a good night—no, a magical night—and tomorrow was a new day, a new beginning, and she would greet it with joy and deal with whatever it brought her.

  Zia dressed, not surprised that she was alone. She hadn’t felt Artair stir beside her and he probably chose not to disturb her feeling she needed sleep. He was considerate that way, but then, Artair was always thoughtful when it came to her. He put her feelings and needs before his.

  Her grandmother was right. He was a good man. So how did she keep her word to someone and not hurt her husband in the process?

  Husband?

  She kept making that mistake, thinking of him as her husband. But wasn’t she feeling that way? More and more she thought of Artair as her husband. More and more she referred to him as so.

  She smiled. “This all will be settled soon enough. I’m sure of it.”

  And she was. She knew that she and Artair would settle it agreeably, and it would be done. After all, he was reasonable and she was trying to be.

  She was smiling broadly when she hurried down the stairs into the great hall. All the Sinclares were at the table before the large hearth, where they usually sat, and a few tables were occupied by warriors deep in conversation and the morning meal.

  She weaved her way around the tables greeting the warriors, having gotten to know most of them when suddenly she heard her name shouted and she stopped dead when she saw that it was Artair.

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes rounded wide when she saw him standing in the middle, on top of the table where his family sat.

  “I love you, Zia!”

  She was too shocked to respond but everyone in the hall did with claps and cheerful shouts, a few stamping their feet.

  “I love you with all my heart!” Artair shouted, grinning, and placed his hands over his heart.

  She continued to stare, dumbfounded, and when it quieted and everyone stared at her, waiting, including Artair, who remained standing on the table like a centerpiece—she did the only thing she could.

  She ran as quick as could be out of the hall.

  Chapter 27

  Zia ran past villagers who called out greetings to her, though she was in too much of a hurry to reciprocate. She kept her frantic pace, it taking her on the moor with a stitch in her side that finally forced her to stop running.

  She leaned over, splaying her hands on her thighs and taking in laboring breaths while her rampantly beating heart felt ready to explode. But was it from exertion or did her heart pound because of Artair’s most impractical declaration of love in front of everyone?

  “Stand up straight and don’t fight your breaths.”

  Zia stood and turned though paid no attention to the warning of fighting her breathing, which only made it worse. But Artair had followed her and now stood staring at her. Expecting what?

  “I didn’t expect you to run, but after the initial shock I realized why you did,” he said. He yanked his fur-lined cloak off and handed it to her.

  She took it, realizing she was shivering, and wrapped it around her. “Why did I?”

  An easygoing smile surfaced across his face. “Your honesty is one of the things I love about you.”

  “Do you love that I ran from you when you declared that you loved me?”

  His smile turned to a chuckle. “I could be insulted, but I’m not.”

  “Why? It wasn’t very nice of me. I should have flung myself in your arms, especially since you didn’t care if you made a complete fool of yourself in front of everyone.” She giggled at the memory.

  “Someone reminded me that love makes fools of us all, so I decided to let love have its way with me.”

  “Why, then, did I run?” she asked with a confused shake of her head.

  “Because you’re afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of us being in love,” he said.

  “But that’s a wonderful thing.”

  “Yes,” he agreed nodding and approached her slowly. “But it also means that now you can marry me for we marry for love.”

  She gasped and jumped back. “That’s it. As soon as you declared your love I knew my fate was sealed.”

  “You make it sound like a death sentence,” he chortled.

  “No, no,” she hastened to explain. “I have thought often of how right it feels calling you my husband.”

  “That is good,” he said with a pleased grin. “For it feels right calling you wife.”

  “I only wish to know that you can accept me for who I am, what I do, and the passion with which I live.”

  Artair reached out again and gently guided her into his arms. “That woman you describe is the woman I love, and I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

  She brushed her lips over his. “It is you who are the witch, for you cast a spell over me from when we first met.”

  “Damn, I was hoping you didn’t notice, but since you did—I intend to keep you under my spell forever and always.”

  Zia poked him in the chest playfully. “You might have to refresh that spell every now and again.”

  He kissed her softly, though lusciously. “I do, every time we make love.”

  She sighed. “That you do. I have never known such magic.”

  “We make magic together and always will,” he said, and kissed her quick. “We will marry immediately.”

  “No!”

  Artair shook his head. “Why not?”

  “I want my grandmother to be here when we exchange our vows.”

  He nodded with a smile. “You’re right. Bethane should be here to share in the celebration.”

  “Your family will not think it odd that we wish to wed again?”

  “I will explain that we wish to refresh our vows in front of both our families. They will be pleased and ready to celebrate.”

  Zia cuddled in the warmth of his arms, pleased that this was settled and she would wed for love, as she’d always wanted to. “This is good; I am happy.”

  He hugged her tightly. “I will try to always make you happy.”

  She ran a tender finger over his lips. “You don’t have to try. I am happy just seeing your face when I wake in the morning, or when you wait for me to finish my work, or when you argue with me over a point which we both know I’m right about.” She laughed joyously then sighed. “You are happiness to me.”

&nb
sp; “Damn, but I love you, Zia.”

  “And that makes me the happiest of all, hearing you say you love me. I will never grow tired of hearing it.”

  “Good, for I will never grow tired of telling you.”

  “We are made for each other. A perfect fit.”

  They kissed on the windy moor, impervious to the chill and the fine mist that began to fall. They were in love, and lost in that love. Nothing else mattered, nothing would.

  Artair stopped with Zia at James’s cottage. He was doing better, not a complaint from him. The only thing he talked about was Mave’s impending arrival. He had received a message from her expressing her concern and letting him know she would take good care of him.

  Zia examined his wound, which was healing much better than she’d expected. “You are moving it like I told you?”

  “I better,” James said quietly. “If I don’t, Addie’s in here making me work it even harder, and Neddie’s been stopping by as well, not to mention all the other women who remind me while dropping off food. Everyone is surprised I still have the arm or that I’m still alive. I think most thought I’d never make it.” He shook his head. “For a while there I didn’t think I would either.”

  “Nonsense,” Zia scolded gently. “You’re a strong, determined man and you fought to live.” She walked over to the fireplace to prepare a brew for him.

  Artair leaned over James. “I’d say Mave had something to do with you wanting to live.”

  James grinned. “She’s been in my thoughts since we left the village Black, though I’ve been wondering…”

  “Speak your piece,” Artair urged, sensing the man’s reluctance.

  “What if I wanted to return to the village Black with Mave?”

  “I would wish you both a long and happy life together.”

  James sighed with relief. “Thank you, Artair, though know I would serve you if ever you should ask.”

  “I had no doubt of it.”

  Artair took Zia’s hand when they left the cottage.

  “I heard,” she said. “It was good of you to release him to live elsewhere.”

  “Actually, it is up to Cavan, but I know he would do the same, which is why James asked me first.”

  “Your brother is a good and fair laird.”

  “Yes he is,” Artair agreed.

  “Has he asked if you’ve spoken with me?”

  “Not yet. He waits, for he knows I will have an answer for him.”

  “You expect me to change my mind?” she asked.

  He tapped her head. “I expect that I understand my wife and trust her word.”

  Zia threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly.

  “Be careful,” he whispered in her ear, “or I will carry you into your healing cottage and brace the door so no one can enter until I have had my way with you.”

  “Promise?” she begged breathlessly.

  Artair shook his head as he pointed at her cottage. Five people were already waiting outside her door.

  “Later,” she whispered, before rushing her lips across his and hurrying off to tend the ailing.

  Artair entered the keep with a sense of relief and joy, hoping to find his mother and tell her all about Zia and his plans. He was certain she would be thrilled and get busy immediately with the preparations, which in turn he hoped would alleviate her sadness, if only for a while. He knew his mother felt lost at times without her husband, and while she kept her spirits up in front of everyone, suffered when alone. He worried about her, but then so did his brothers. If only Ronan would return, that would surely make all the difference to her.

  “You’re wanted in the solar,” his mother said as soon as he entered the great hall.

  Artair could tell by her serious expression that something was wrong, and he hurried into the solar, to find Cavan and Lachlan waiting for him.

  Cavan held up a paper with an official seal. “The church council will arrive in a few days to speak with Zia in regard to claims of her being a witch.”

  Artair felt as though an arrow had struck his heart. He grabbed hold of the top of a chair and took a breath. “Who do they send?”

  “Bishop Edmond Aleatus,” Cavan said.

  “He leads the witch hunt in this region,” Lachlan said. “Many say he is a fair man.”

  “Fair to whom?” Artair asked.

  “Bishop Aleatus knew Father and respected him,” Cavan said. “Once the bishop realizes it is the Sinclare family he deals with, I am sure there will be no problem.”

  Artair nearly swore aloud. He knew this farce of a marriage would return to haunt him. He should have forced Zia to wed him from the start.

  “Have your marriage papers ready to present to the bishop,” Cavan said to him.

  “The villagers will be a help since they speak highly of Zia,” Lachlan said.

  Artair listened to them talk, though he barely heard their words. He could arrange for Zia and he to exchange vows secretly, but what of the documents? The date would need to be forged, the cleric bribed, but if he learned or knew of the claims of witchcraft against Zia he would never agree. He would report the matter immediately to the church.

  “Though her remarkable healing talent could work against her,” Cavan said. “For instance, James’s recovery. None expected him to survive. Many claim it a miracle.”

  Lachlan shook his head. “That’s all the bishop needs to hear.”

  “Artair and Zia being wed will probably do her the most good. The Sinclare name is a respected and honorable one. I doubt there are many who would go against it,” Cavan said. “And with the bishop having known father, I believe all will work out well.”

  “I don’t think Artair is feeling the same way,” Lachlan said, looking at his brother.

  “Don’t worry, Artair, all will be fine,” Cavan reassured.

  Artair shook his head. How could he have ever been so stupid to get not only Zia but his family into such a serious situation? Reason had warned him to wed Zia, and yet he’d allowed her to have her way. And now look at the dangerous mess they were all in.

  “It can’t be that bad,” Cavan said once again, trying to reassure him.

  In fact, his brother’s confidence and support made him feel worse. He had always been the sensible one, the one to do the right thing. No one ever had to clean up after him. He had made sure of it.

  “Cavan’s right,” Lachlan said. “It can’t be that bad, and besides, we’re in this together. We won’t let you down.”

  That made him feel even worse, for he had certainly let them down and all because he had allowed a woman to enchant him. He shook his head. He was even making it seem that Zia was a witch and that this was all her fault and it wasn’t. He had created this mess, and he would need to find a way out of it. But first he needed to be honest with his brothers.

  “Have your say, Artair, and we will work this out together,” Cavan said with the confidence of a powerful laird.

  Artair spit it out before he changed his mind. “Zia and I are not married.”

  Chapter 28

  Zia received an urgent summons to the keep. She finished tending a minor burn on a child’s arm and quickly glanced over the three people who waited to see her, dispensing salves and a potion and advising the last one to return to his cottage and she would come see him as soon as she could. Feeling better that there were no serious ailments, she hurried to the keep.

  A knot tightened in her stomach with each step she took and caused her to grow apprehensive. Something was wrong; she could feel it.

  Patience.

  Her grandmother’s strong voice resonated in her head and she halted her rushed steps. Bethane sensed something as well, which meant she needed to keep her mind clear and remain alert. Her grandmother would help guide her; she wasn’t alone.

  And she had Artair, but most importantly she had his love.

  She entered the keep just as a clap of thunder sounded and the ominous warning caused her to shiver. A servant directed her t
o the solar and when she entered she knew without anyone saying a word that their marriage ruse was known.

  They were all there, brothers, their mother, and Honora, and they looked alarmed.

  She walked straight to the middle of the room and looked to Artair. “I sense that it was somehow necessary that you tell them the truth.”

  He nodded. “The church council sends a bishop to investigate.”

  “We need to get you two wed immediately,” Cavan said, standing beside the chair where his wife sat.

  Zia noticed that Honora seemed more pale than usual, and restless, shifting as if uncomfortable in her seat. She should have been more concerned with her own predicament, but it was Honora who worried her.

  “Cavan has sent for a cleric,” Addie said.

  Zia didn’t like seeing their worried expressions. Addie’s few brow wrinkles seemed more pronounced from her worried thoughts and Cavan wore a continuous frown, while the usual joyful Lachlan had not made one joke of the situation. That they were all worried was obvious, and Zia didn’t like being the reason for their distress.

  “You and Artair will wed as soon as the cleric arrives,” Cavan said, though it sounded more like a proclamation.

  “What of the date?” Zia asked. “The clerics are most precise about a document they affix a seal to.”

  “The cleric we have sent for is faithful to the Sinclares,” Addie said. “He will record whatever date we request.” She smiled sadly, though with pride. “My husband saved his life when he was young and he feels indebted to the Sinclare clan.”

  Zia listened while keeping an eye on Honora. Something was definitely wrong and she didn’t like what she was sensing.

  “You’ll need to temper your enthusiasm while the bishop is here. It would be better if you appeared pious,” Cavan said.

  Zia would normally have argued. The thought of her remaining pious was simply ridiculous. But it wasn’t she who presently mattered. She had brought her problems down upon the Sinclare family, and she would do whatever was necessary to protect them, as they attempted to do the same for her.

  “I apologize for the trouble this has brought to your clan,” she said to Cavan.