Under the Highlander's Spell Read online

  “I can easily delay, explaining that the papers were left at your village and someone is on the way here with them. But we need the cleric here as fast as possible, for he will settle the problem by marrying us and providing the proper documents.”

  “You haven’t said it, yet you know.”

  “I’ve told you that I love you,” Artair said, confused.

  “Not that.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You haven’t flaunted the fact that you were right and I was wrong about us getting married right away.”

  He looked over her lovely face, lingering on her delectable lips, plump from their kisses, her green eyes so vibrant with passion, and her dark red hair fired with blond streaks. They gave the illusion of flames, which matched her fiery nature. He slowly shook his head.

  “You weren’t wrong.”

  “What?” Zia asked, startled.

  “It would have been wise of us to wed, but it was much wiser that we fell in love and chose to wed.”

  She gasped, then smiled. “You’re right. My wish has come true. I wed for love.”

  “And my practical nature wisely gave way to—”

  “Passion!” Zia cried out with joy.

  Artair laughed and hugged her tightly. “I love your zest for life.”

  “What will you do if we have a daughter with such zest?”

  Artair shook his head. “I will need to—” He stopped and stared at her wide-eyed. “Are you with child?”

  She grinned. “I’m not sure yet, but there is a strong possibility.”

  He scooped her up and swung her around. “I didn’t think I could be any happier than I was, but this is beyond happiness. This is sheer bliss.”

  After he put her down, she said, “We mustn’t tell anyone yet. I’m not certain, and besides, it would not be good for the bishop to hear.”

  “Agreed, but you will let me know—”

  “As soon as I know for sure,” she said.

  “We will have a good life together, Zia. I promise,” he said, knowing he would do anything to keep her safe.

  “Zia!”

  They turned to see Cavan approach.

  “The pains have started again.”

  Zia nodded, gave Artair’s cheek a quick kiss and hurried off.

  “I would die to see her safe,” Artair said, his glance fixed on where Zia had disappeared through the open door.

  “I understand,” Cavan said. “I would do the same for Honora.”

  “Then perhaps we should leave this situation to Lachlan’s discretion,” Artair joked.

  “If only the bishop were a woman.”

  Both men laughed, but stopped when they heard the horn that heralded the bishop’s approach.

  “Are you ready?” Cavan asked with a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “I will always be ready to defend my wife,” Artair said, and both brothers went to greet the man who would decide Zia’s fate.

  A warrior was waiting in the great hall when Artair and Cavan entered.

  “A group from the village Black follows a few hours behind the bishop’s caravan,” he informed the brothers.

  “This could present a problem,” Cavan said after sending the warrior to the kitchen for food and drink. “Supposedly, you were married in the village Black. It would be odd if those from the village knew nothing about it.”

  “Zia had sent word to her grandmother about our ruse. Bethane is an intelligent woman. I would have to believe that she made it known to the village,” Artair said. “But I can send Patrick to intercept them and make certain of it, since he knew of the ruse.”

  Cavan shook his head. “How so many knew and yet kept the secret.”

  “Bethane is widely respected, especially by those she harbors.”

  “Do you think she comes as well?”

  “I believe so. She would know when Zia needed her,” Artair said, somehow knowing himself that Bethane was close.

  “Then perhaps she will provide us with more information about Ronan.”

  Artair smiled. “Bethane is a wise woman. She will learn more about you than you will of her.”

  “You admire this woman,” Cavan said.

  “You will too, but first we must deal with the bishop.”

  Addie entered the hall from the kitchen, directing servants with platters of food and pitchers of drink.

  “All will be ready for the bishop’s arrival,” she said to Cavan.

  “Honora?” he asked.

  “Is in good hands. Do not worry. Besides, Zia said her grandmother is close and will be here to help with the birth.”

  The brothers looked at each other, and Artair’s grin said I told you so.

  Addie hurried off to finish with the servants.

  “I just realized,” Artair said. “We planned on telling the bishop that we sent for the marriage documents left behind, where the ceremony took place.”

  Cavan shook his head. “The village Black, and with Bethane’s arrival—”

  “The story is no longer viable. Unless…” Artair nodded slowly. “Unless Bethane forgot the papers and realized shortly after beginning their journey and sent someone back for them, which means he should arrive within a day or two, giving us just enough time.”

  “I suggest as soon as we greet the bishop, you ride out and accompany Bethane’s entourage to the keep. As far as we know, the marriage papers are on the way, though we will not discuss them unless asked.”

  “Agreed,” Artair said.

  A messenger entered the hall and informed the brothers that the bishop’s coach had entered the village.

  Cavan and Artair went outside to greet the man who could bring disfavor down on the clan by claiming Zia a witch.

  Bishop Edmond Aleatus wore a dour expression as he alighted from the coach, and his sharp green eyes appeared to miss nothing. His regal attire bespoke his station, his handsomely stitched green and gold garments crafted perfectly for his tall slim frame.

  Artair watched his brother greet the bishop with the dignity expected, but Cavan also greeted him with the confidence of a mighty warrior. His brother would not bow down to this man, though he would show respect for his position.

  “Please let me offer you food and drink and then a place to rest,” Cavan said.

  “Where is the woman Zia?” the bishop asked, following Cavan into the keep.

  “She is detained looking after my wife, who is presently in the middle of a very difficult birth.”

  The bishop halted in the great hall with a scowl. “I will not be kept from my duty by excuses. You will command this woman to—”

  A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the keep, sending icy shivers through Artair. He could only imagine what his brother must be feeling, for it sounded much too authentic not to be real.

  The bishop crossed himself and mumbled a prayer. “I shall pray for your wife, and in the meantime enjoy your generous hospitality.”

  “Go see to your wife, Cavan,” Artair said, knowing his brother worried.

  “If you will excuse me a moment, Bishop Aleatus,” Cavan said. “My brother Artair, Zia’s husband, will see to you until I return.”

  “Yes. That is fine,” the bishop said with a dismissive wave to Cavan.

  Artair sat with the bishop at the table before the hearth where his family always gathered, and it was here where he would protect his family. Zia was no witch, and he would make certain the bishop understood that.

  He thought the man might wait to question him, hungry and thirsty from his travels, but the bishop questioned in between enjoying the abundant offering of foods and drink.

  “I was told by those at Lorne that you paid handsomely for Zia’s release.”

  Artair knew an accusation when he heard one, and knew this was one time Zia would be pleased with his sensible nature.

  “I had need of her,” he replied.

  “You gave no thought that she may have bewitched you to secure
her release?”

  Artair gave caution to his responses, knowing that any answer could be misconstrued, which could do more harm than good.

  “If she had such powers, wouldn’t she have convinced those in Lorne to release her?”

  “The men at Lorne tell me that she tried but they fought against her powers.”

  Artair wanted to shake his head, but knew better. He had to convince the bishop that Zia was no witch.

  “I found her to have no such powers. She is a woman who generously uses her skills to heal the ill.”

  “Miraculous healings, I hear,” the bishop said, sounding once again as if he accused.

  “They are no miracles, just hard work by a healer who cares for those she treats.”

  “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.”

  Chapter 30

  Artair 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.