Under the Highlander's Spell Page 27
Cavan scratched his head. “Who will perform the ceremony?”
“The bishop,” Artair said with a smile and a nod to Bethane.
The older woman turned to leave, then stopped and looked once again to Artair. “You have a question to ask me. I will do my best to answer it for you.” She turned then and disappeared up the stairs.
“How does she do that?” Cavan asked. “Know things before people even say anything?”
Artair shrugged. “She’s a wise woman.”
“Or maybe it’s magic,” Lachlan said, and nodded at Artair. “Our brother here believes in magic now.”
Artair draped his arm around Cavan’s shoulder. “So does this brother, and we don’t want to be the only ones who were struck by the magic of love.”
Cavan caught on and nodded. “That’s right. So let’s cast a spell of love on Lachlan.”
Lachlan laughed.
“Get away from them,” Neil shouted, having emerged from the shadows.
The three brothers looked at him.
“They’ve been bewitched and now they try to bewitch you. Run before it’s too late and you find yourself saddled with a witch of a wife,” he shouted, and ran from the hall like a madman, his arms waving up over his head as he continued shouting.
“You know, that’s the first smart thing that man has said since his arrival,” Lachlan said, laughing.
Zia stood in the sewing room while her grandmother altered the dark green velvet dress that Addie had gifted her with for her wedding ceremony. A few tucks and a sizable hem and it was perfect for her. The velvet fell in swirls from beneath her breasts, and her long sleeves ended in points over the back of her hands. Velvet slippers completed the outfit.
While the dress was more beautiful than any garment she had ever owned, it was her father who dominated her thoughts.
“He knew me at first sight,” she said, standing still while her grandmother worked on the hem.
“Of course he would. You are the picture of your mother.”
“So he remarked, though I saw bits of him in me as well,” Zia said proudly. “And he spoke with such pride of Mother and her healing skills, and knew I possessed the same. He told me how Mother told him their first child would be a daughter and that she would be a healer.”
Zia placed her hand over her stomach.
“You know the same. Have you told Artair?”
Zia smiled and shook her head. “Not yet, but soon enough.”
“Your father will be pleased. He will have the family long denied him.”
Zia’s smile faded. “But he will never be able to openly acknowledge me as his.”
Bethane comforted Zia with a hug. “He protects you by not letting anyone know you’re his daughter.”
“I know,” Zia said sadly. “It’s just that he has suffered so much, and merely because he loved my mother.”
“But think how much joy this night will bring him. He will unite in marriage his daughter, whom he never knew existed, to the man she loves. While it may seem a small consolation to you, I believe he thinks otherwise. Besides, he also saved you from being condemned a witch, and now with his blessings no one will ever dare try to accuse you of witchcraft again.”
Zia wiped a lone tear from her eye. “I don’t want him to leave. I want him to stay so I can learn more about him and tell him more about me, and hear stories of him and my mother…And I want him to hold my newborn daughter in his arms and know that it all started with the love he had for my mother, and how that love will live on forever.”
“I think he realized that when he laid eyes on you. Besides, he won’t rush off now that he knows who you are. He will delay his departure, claiming an illness perhaps, that the healer advises would best heal with rest, not travel.”
Zia brightened. “I forget how wise you are.”
“Do not worry. I will remind you.”
Zia laughed along with her grandmother.
A soft knock sounded at the door and Honora entered. She looked beautiful wearing a purple gown her long hair tucked up with combs.
“I made this for you while the babes slept.” Honora handed her a crown made of heather.
Zia blinked back tears, placed the lovely gift on her head, then hugged Honora. “Thank you so very much. You must be well, for you look beautiful.”
“I feel wonderful, thanks to you,” Honora said. “But this night is not about me. It is about you, and everything is ready, and everyone waits in the solar.”
Bethane rushed through the last of the hem, and the two women escorted the bride downstairs.
As Zia approached the door, she grabbed hold of her grandmother’s arm. “Behind that door—”
“Your past and future unite,” Bethane whispered softly.
Zia smiled and took a step toward her future.
Chapter 35
The ceremony was short, and a light fare had been prepared and arranged in the solar, with plenty of wine and ale to help celebrate the special occasion. It was very late so that no one would be the wiser of what took place there that night.
Some of the servants speculated, but were happy that at least whatever did take place was a celebration, which meant that all was well.
Artair watched his wife…Finally, he could truly call Zia his wife. He watched her speak with her father and Bethane.
He and Zia had decided it would be best if no one else knew that Bishop Edmond Aleatus was her father. It wasn’t that he and Zia didn’t trust his family to keep the secret. It was just that he had learned from experience that the more people who knew a secret, the more people found out about it. And besides, he felt it was safer for his family not to know the truth, and Zia had agreed with him about that.
He couldn’t get over how utterly beautiful she looked and how utterly happy she was. He wished he could say that it was all because she had married him, but that most of her happiness was the result of learning about her father, and he couldn’t blame her for that.
He had to laugh quietly, for the bishop hadn’t smiled much when he first arrived, and since finding out about Zia, he hadn’t stopped smiling. Those in his entourage who saw him wondered if the witch had cast a spell over him, and in a strange way, it could be said that she had, though it was a daughter’s love that freed him from a spell. Once it was learned that the bishop had declared Zia free of all witchcraft charges, his people sighed a breath of relief and went about their tasks contentedly.
Bethane drifted over to him. “Happy?”
“More than I ever expected,” Artair admitted, then smiled. “But you knew that. What else do you know?”
“What is it you want to know?” she asked.
Artair looked around the room, taking in each person. “Cavan and Honora are happy, and even more so with the birth of their sons, this I know. What of Lachlan?”
Bethane smiled. “He finds love where he least expects it, and if he fights fate, he will lose her.”
“I will remember that,” Artair said with a nod. “What of my mother?”
Bethane sighed. “She will love again.”
“Never,” Artair said adamantly. “She loved Father far too much to ever love another man.”
“This man will be persuasive—”
“My brothers and I will get rid of him fast enough.”
“Be careful, for your mother’s heart will go with him,” Bethane warned. “Odd that you ask of everyone before—”
“Ronan,” Artair finished with a firm nod. “I saved him for last. Tell me how to find him.”
“He travels a road you cannot follow.”
“No riddles, Bethane, just tell me where to start. I want my brother home where he belongs.”
“Then let him be, and he will find his way home,” she said.
Artair shook his head. “I cannot do that, and neither can my brothers. Just point me in the right direction and leave the rest to me.”
“As you wish,” Bethane said. “Find the barbarian leader’s daughter
and you will find Ronan.”
“Thank you,” Artair said, certain now that he and his brothers would find their brother and bring him home.
“Do not be so fast to thank me,” Bethane warned, and walked away as Zia approached.
“You look confused,” Zia said, taking hold of Artair’s arm.
“Your grandmother has a way of doing that to people.” He gave her a quick kiss, whispering afterward, “I have been a patient husband. Can we take our leave now so that I can make love to my wife for the first time.”
Zia smiled. “I thought the same myself, husband.”
“You’ve been patient too?” he asked teasingly.
She pressed close against him and whispered in his ear, “Far too long.”
Her warm breath sent shivers racing through his body, and he felt her shiver along with him. “We need to leave now.”
“We’ll slip out. No one will notice,” she whispered.
He agreed with a nod, but it took longer to take their leave than they hoped, and by the time they reached their bedchamber, they both breathed a sigh of relief and fell on the bed together.
“I thought they would never let us go,” Zia confessed.
“It is I who will never let you go,” Artair said with a kiss, soft, gentle, and tempting.
They took their time undressing each other, kissing as they went. Each lingered along favorite spots, so it took a long lazy time to undress completely, and when they finally did, they settled naked into each other’s arms.
They kissed as if for the first time and lingered in the exquisite beauty of its sweet innocence. And laughed like new lovers eager to continue exploring. Then they began to touch, discovering each other for the first time as husband and wife and cherishing the joy of it.
They didn’t rush, not once. Not even as their passion consumed them. It was as if they intended to treasure each and every moment and remember it always. When they finally joined, it was with an exquisite slowness that drove them both wildly mad until neither could prevent the other from exploding in a blinding climax that left them completely spent.
Later, tucked beneath the blanket and wrapped around each other, with sleep not far off, Artair whispered in her ear, “You have bewitched me from the start.”
She laughed softly and snuggled against him. “Maybe so, Highlander, but it is you who have kept me under your spell.”
About the Author
Part of the fun in writing, DONNA FLETCHER admits, is doing the research. Getting lost in 1514 proved exciting, and learning about pirates and the high seas thrilled and surprised her. But it is with her characters that she has the most fun. She loves giving life to fresh characters and feels their excitement as they face the pleasures and pitfalls of falling in love.
Donna’s own adventures have taken her to England, Ireland, and Scotland. She has walked the fields where battles were fought centuries ago, toured haunted castles, stood where beheadings were commonplace, explored the mystic mounds of long ago, and collected a plethora of memories and research that will live long in her heart and mind. She also loves exploring and photographing old abandoned homes, and she often takes long walks in the woods with camera in hand. She feels her life is rich and full, with three terrific sons, two fantastic daughters-in-law, an endless supply of friends, a loving dog, and a crazy, black, one-eyed cat named Bear.
Donna loves hearing from her readers. Please visit her at www.donnafletcher.com.
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
UNDER THE HIGHLANDER’S SPELL. Copyright © 2007 by Donna Fletcher. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition AUGUST 2008 ISBN: 9780061982224
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