Under the Highlander's Spell Read online

  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.”

  “Then I will make you beg.”

  She laughed, though a yawn interrupted. “You’ve done that too.”

  He caressed her cheek gently. “Then tell me what it is you want.”

  She sighed, her eyes already closing. “Simply love me.”

  Chapter 31

  Artair went in search of Cavan an hour later. He found him just coming out of the bedchamber after visiting with his wife and newborn twins.

  “They all sleep,” Cavan said softly. “Now what of the bishop?”

  “He is exploring the village and talking with the people,” Artair said.

  Cavan said nothing until after they walked down the stairs and entered the solar, closing the door behind them. “He will also come upon those from the village Black.”

  “They have been made aware of the situation.”

  “Zia knows to remain out of sight?” Cavan asked.

  Artair nodded. “No doubt it will be hours before she wakes, and when she does she will immediately want to check on Honora and the babes, and then there is her grandmother to visit with.”

  Cavan nodded. “Bethane. A most gracious and wise woman, so I’ve learned. And I believe one who knows more than she says.”

  “You intend to speak to her about Ronan.”

  “I do, and she knows it, for she told me privately that she would talk with me about my brother when I was ready.”

  “Ready?” Artair asked.

  “I wondered what she meant, the same as you. Then I thought perhaps I should be ready to hear dire news.”

  Artair shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Besides, Bethane could have meant that with so much going on—the birth of the babes, the bishop’s arrival—you had no time to talk about Ronan just now.”

  “And she would have been right. We must settle this matter and see that Zia is freed of these senseless, vicious, and dangerous charges. I will feel better when you two finally exchange vows, for then she legally has the Sinclare name to protect her.”

  “My thoughts as well,” Artair said.

  Cavan rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose the bishop knows of the birth of my sons?”

  “He does, though I let it be known that mother and sons still required Zia’s attention. He asked that you, Lachlan, and me, and also Mother if she is not needed to help with the babes, to join him for the noon meal. It was more of a command than a request, I must say.”

  “It is best we comply. We don’t want to give him any reason to believe us uncooperative.”

  “Agreed.”

  “In the meantime keep a close watch on him.”

  “I have Patrick trailing him.”

  A knock interrupted any further conversation, and a warrior who had been sent to
see that the cleric made it to the keep as soon as possible entered.

  Artair felt his stomach plummet. From the warrior’s dire expression, he could sense that something was wrong.

  “The cleric has been taken ill at a village and isn’t fit to travel,” the man said. “It might be a day or more before he is able to resume his journey.”

  Artair refused to allow this setback to defeat him. If he did, he could very well lose Zia. “We must keep the bishop busy with his investigation until the cleric can get here,” he said to Cavan when the warrior left.

  His brother was about to agree when another knock sounded at the door.

  Another warrior entered. “One of the sentinels has reported a lone rider approaching from the east.”

  “How long before he arrives?” Cavan asked.

  “Thirty minutes or more.”

  “Intercept him and find out what he wants on Sinclare land,” Cavan ordered.

  The two brothers looked at each other, both sensing something was not right. It wasn’t long before their fears were confirmed. The rider was from the village Lorne. He was sent to bear witness to marriage documents and to talk on behalf of his village with the bishop. Cavan couldn’t prevent his arrival. If he did, his actions would only make Zia appear guilty.

  The man was greeted as any other visitor would be, and when the bishop found out who he was, requested his presence at the noon day meal.

  The great hall was empty except for the Sinclares, the bishop, and the messenger, Neil. The tension was thick in the air. Even Champion felt it, the dog standing stiffly to the side of the hearth as if on alert and ready to protect.

  The servants were quiet and solemn whenever they entered the hall, and didn’t remain long. The mood remained dour as the meal began and the silence hung heavy. At Champion’s bark, everyone jumped, but then had to smile at the way he ran to greet a smiling Addie.

  “Bishop Aleatus, it is an honor to have you in our home and at such an auspicious time,” she said with a respectful bow to the man. “I would be honored if you were to bestow blessings on my grandsons.”

  “A gracious request to which I would be only too pleased to consent,” the bishop answered with a smile, the only smile since his arrival. “Please sit by me.”

  Addie eagerly joined him, her smile still brimming.

  Talk turned general, and seeing that his mother’s smiling presence had changed the charged atmosphere, Artair was grateful to her. She talked of the beautiful service a cleric had conducted for her husband’s funeral and the strength she derived from her daily devotionals.

  The bishop conversed mainly with her, which Artair noticed made the messenger Neil, all the more uncomfortable. Finally, the wiry little fellow snapped.

  “The witch has bewitched her,” he blurted.

  “Why say you that?” the bishop asked.

  He stammered for a moment before regaining control of his tongue. “The witch told us to pray for our loved ones.”

  “She did?” the bishop asked curiously.

  He nodded. “She claimed she’d pray too, but it was the devil she prayed to.”

  “But your people got better, didn’t they?” Artair asked, knowing full well they had.

  “Every one of them,” Neil said, his hands trembling. “And that isn’t right. Not a one of the ill died. Even the ones everyone thought for sure wouldn’t make it survived.”

  “Zia is a good healer,” Artair confirmed, and his brothers agreed with a nod, as did Addie.

  “No, no,” Neil insisted. “She let the devil steal their souls, and when they die they’ll burn forever in the fires of Hell.”

  “That’s pure nonsense—”

  Before Artair could finish, the bishop held up his hand for silence. “I will decide what is nonsense and what is not.”

  “Speak to the witch,” Neil insisted. “Speak with her soon or she will bewitch you too, just as she did to everyone in our village. If it were not for the strength of our leader, Harold, to fight her powers, we would have all been doomed.”

  “The man you speak of is the one who sold her to me?” Artair asked.

  The bishop raised a brow as he regarded the messenger from Lorne. “This is true, is it not?”

  Neil pointed an accusing finger at Artair. “She bewitched him into trading coins for her release.”

  “Did she then bewitch the man to take the coins?” Artair asked with a sneer, growing annoyed with such nonsensical talk, and meanwhile concerned that the bishop just might agree with the ridiculous man.

  “Aye, she did,” Neil said firmly. “She even commanded it to rain so that we couldn’t light the wood to burn her.”

  Artair wanted to reach out and strangle the idiotic man, but that wouldn’t help his cause. Calm rationality would.

  “Bishop Aleatus,” he said calmly, “my wife is not a witch. She is a remarkable healer schooled in the art by—”

  “Other witches,” Neil interrupted with a trembling voice. “They all live in a village together. A village no one can get to for they have cast a spell around it to keep it invisible.”

  Lachlan laughed.

  “You find this humorous?” the bishop chastised.

  Lachlan was wise enough to assert otherwise. “No sir, it is just that I have watched my sister-in-law heal many, and she uses no such witchcraft to do it.”

  “What of James?” the bishop asked.

  “What of him?” Artair said.

  “He survived a severe wound. He claims Zia worked a miracle to save him.”

  Artair knew James meant only to help but his choice of words had done the opposite. “Hard work by my wife is what saved James’s arm.”

  “I have found no one who speaks harshly of your wife,” the bishop noted, nodding.

  “She is loved and respected by all,” Artair said with pride.

  “It seems odd that not even one person—”

  Neil interrupted the bishop. “She’s done it again, bewitched the whole village.”

  Artair almost lunged at the man, ready to beat him unmercifully. It took great willpower not to do so. Instead, while inwardly fuming, he retained a calm exterior composure.

  “She has not,” he asserted.

  “That will be for me to decide,” the bishop said curtly, and looked directly at Artair. “Tomorrow I will speak with your wife so that this matter can be settled. And you have two days more to produce a wedding document. If you fail to do so, I will assume she is not your wife and take matters from there.”

  Artair stood. “Conduct your investigation, Bishop Aleatus, but know this. Zia is my wife. She is not a witch and I will not see her condemned and punished because of ignorance and lies.”

  He stomped off, his hands fisted, itching to punch someone. He swore beneath his breath until he realized he was swearing aloud. One last oath and he clamped his mouth shut, taking the stone stairs two at a time.

  He was furious and couldn’t calm himself down. Because of some ignorant, foolish, selfish men he could very well lose Zia. And he would be damned if he’d let that happen.

  He burst into Cavan’s bedchamber without knocking, and his temper cooled in a flash when Zia jumped up off the chair where she sat with a firm finger pressed to her lips.

  He saw that Honora and the babes were asleep, and from where Zia had sat, it looked as if she and Bethane had been talking. She walked over to him and took his arm, turned her head to give Bethane a nod, then headed out the door with him.

  “You look as if you’ve lost your temper, but knowing you, that would make no sense.”

  He caught her smirk and shook his head, realizing the stupidity of his actions.

  She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Who was the unfortunate recipient of your seldom exposed temper?”

  He wasn’t only reluctant to tell her, he was reluctant to admit it. “The bishop.”

  “Really?” Zia asked, stunned.

  His nod turned quickly to a shake. “I may have just made the situation
worse.”

  “But you did it anyway.”

  “Stupidly.”

  “No,” she admonished softly, and smiled. “Passionately.”

  Artair took hold of her face; her lovely green eyes glistened as if ready to tear. “You sound proud of my foolishness.”

  She laughed softly while a single tear drifted down her cheek. “You weren’t practical.”

  “That I wasn’t, and still you sound proud of me.” A smile crept over him and he gently wiped the single tear away, and at that moment realized he loved her even more. “I can’t believe that you’re proud of my foolishness.”

  Another tear slipped down her cheek. “Love produced your foolishness. Love for me.” She giggled. “I love a fool, how wonderful!” She threw her arms around him.

  He hugged her tight and laughed. “You forever make me smile, and over the most senseless things.”

  They were about to kiss when they heard footsteps on the stairs. Artair hurried her into the bedchamber. Closing the door on her smile, he said, “We will talk later. I love you.”

  Lachlan appeared in the hall, his anxious footfalls slowed when he spotted Artair, and he looked as if he approached with a cautious grin. “Are you my brother?”

  Artair clipped him on the shoulder when he got close enough. “Have I made a mess of things?”

  “Cavan handled it.”

  “He soothed the bishop?”

  “Not exactly,” Lachlan said. “Cavan told the bishop that you take your vows seriously and your duties to your wife even more seriously. And part of your vows is protecting your wife and you will do that no matter what the circumstances.”

  “My brother defends me.”

  “You doubted he would?” Lachlan asked, surprised.

  Artair hesitated.

  Lachlan laughed. “You gave thought to nothing but defending your wife, and I don’t blame you. Everyone can see how madly in love you two are.”

  “Even so, that doesn’t help the situation.”

  “True enough, which is why Cavan wants to see you in his solar,” Lachlan said. “Once we can’t produce the marriage document…” He shook his head. “Zia is no longer considered under our protection and the bishop—”