Highland Healer (19 page)

“At the edge of the loch below the village, Healer.”

“In the cold water?”

“Aye, mostly. At first we thought him drowned, but he still breathed, though barely, and with his battle wounds, well, ’twas little surprise that he refused to awaken.”

“Who is your healer?” Aileana asked, dreading the coming confrontation.

“I am,” Craig answered, and Aileana nodded. He’d done his best, saving the body in all the ways he knew how, but there had been no saving the mind. She supposed that the MacAnalen, wounded by one of Colbridge’s men, had managed to get away from the battle and gotten as far as the loch before he collapsed. He probably was nearly drowned by the time they found him.

Aileana lifted the blankets from the MacAnalen’s still form. Just to be sure, she told herself, forcing her hands to his chest and using her Talent the best she knew how, despite the aversion she felt to the emptiness within this body. If she could not save him, she could not barter for Angus’s silence.

Oh, how close this poor man had been to the final escape from his enemies, only to be pulled back by the care and concern of his clan. She repeated her earlier touch, running her hands over his head and neck, listening for any hint of self within. There was nothing. His body lived, for a while yet, but his spirit had departed. He was gone. And she was lost.

Aileana bowed her head and recalled the blessing for sending the dead on their way that her mother had taught her so many years before. “Go swift on angels’ wings,” she whispered. “God grant you grace.”

Then she lifted her hands and stood, turning to face the MacAnalen healer. “His body will live a few days yet,” she told him, “but his spirit has already gone. You did the best anyone could do for him, but the loch…”

“Nay!” Craig’s exclamation startled her into backing away from him. “They said ye could save him,” he continued in a softer, pleading tone.

“No one could,” she replied, saddened by the man’s distress. “He had already gone when your men found him.”

Aileana felt Toran arrive at her back. Craig’s protest must have alerted him. She glanced around and shook her head. Angus, on Toran’s heels, gasped.

“Dead?” The anguish in his voice grated on her conscience.

“Nearly so,” she told them. “Your healer did all that was possible, but your laird was too far gone. There’s nothing left for me to”—Aileana’s voice broke on the admission—“there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”

Toran put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Ye tried, lass. That’s all anyone could ask.”

“Nay,” Craig snarled. “She did naught but place her hands on him and declare him too near dead to save. Where are her potions? There must be something…”

“Aileana?” The hope in Angus’s voice nearly broke her heart. At least it was hope and not censure. Though that might soon follow.

She looked Angus in the eye. “Angus, I’m truly sorry. His body will carry on for a few hours yet, but his mind, his spirit is gone. I can sense nothing of him left within.”

“How do ye…what if ye tried again?”

“I will if that is what you wish, certainly. But the answer will be the same. In a day, two at the most, you will bury your laird.”

“Witch!” The accusation echoed within the cave’s dark walls. Aileana whirled around, not sure who had spat out the word like an oath.

“Nay.” Toran swore as he, too, looked for the accuser. “Angus, ye ken the truth. Aileana risked herself to come here. She does not deserve such just because she canna do what ye wished.”

“Aye,” Angus replied, looking around at the members of his clan who had awakened and come to see what was happening near their laird. “We owe our thanks to the Lathan and his Healer for coming to our aid. I’ll hear no more like that from any man here.”

Silence greeted Angus’s demand for a long moment, then a man stepped forward. “What right do ye have to order us?” he complained and Aileana recognized the voice that had named her witch. “Yer brother still breathes, still lives. Ye are no’ laird yet.”

“Ye have the right of it, Colin,” Angus acknowledged. “But the clan has followed my lead since the battle. And while ye may no’, several of the others ken full well what the Healer has done for us.”

“Aye,” Brodric said, stepping forward into the starlight to stand by Angus, his expression completely serious for a change. “The Healer is no’ a matter that concerns ye, Colin. And as for Angus’s leadership, I’ll warn ye no’ to challenge that. The lairdship will be decided by the full clan at the proper time. Ye’ll no’ debate it now over the laird’s still-warm body. I’ll no’ have it.”

“Angus,” Toran said, and Aileana hoped that by breaking into the rising tension, Toran could distract and diffuse the MacAnalens’ upset. His commanding presence, at the very least, would force them to be still and listen, and to remember that they had strangers in their midst.

“We’ve no wish to intrude on MacAnalen clan concerns at a time such as this. But it’s too late to make the trip back to the Aerie in safety. I ask guest-right for the day. We’ll take as many of yer men as ye wish to send with us after dark tonight.”

“Of course,” Angus said. “Ye havena need to ask. Ye bring us food and blankets as well as hope in yer offer of shelter and in the person of the Healer.” He smiled sadly at Aileana. “Have yer men make camp and get some rest. We’ll table this discussion until a more appropriate time and place. In the meantime, Craig will keep watch over the MacAnalen.”

“I’d like to join him, if I may,” Aileana offered.

Angus cut a glance in Craig’s direction.

“It is customary for a healer to attend,” Craig replied evenly.

“The rest of ye, return to yer pallets and get some sleep. We’ve new supplies and will have a decent meal to break our fast when the sun rises.”

Aileana risked a glance at Colin, but he seemed to be bowing to Angus’s leadership now that his objections had been heard, or now that it was clear that his clan supported Angus—and Aileana. He sketched a shallow bow to Angus and turned away. Aileana breathed a sigh of relief, and was not surprised to hear Angus do the same.

Chapter Eleven

In the cold light of day, Toran could see just how foolhardy their trip here had been. These mountains were riddled with caves where men could hide. They were on Penwyms hill above the old MacAnalen village, which was where he kenned they’d be bound before he ever agreed to this trip. It was the very place he’d suggested to Angus as they made their escape from the invaders’ camp. But they were a long way from the Aerie and help, should the need arise.

Toran understood why Angus had not moved his men closer to the Aerie. They had yet to bury their dead, for one, and if any of the clan still lived, the only chance of finding them meant that they must remain nearby for as long as possible. But time was running out, both for any survivors still unaccounted for, and for the clan’s ability to remain hidden from Colbridge’s patrols. The fewer men who remained here, the better their chances of staying hidden from their enemies while they searched for their missing kin.

The clan was up and about, moving quietly in the chill morning air. Several of the men were packing their meager belongings for the return trip to the Aerie. Those who were staying were intent on their chores keeping the camp clean and hidden, while others were out hunting or gathering firewood. In Angus’s absence, someone had come up with the idea to dig a pit in the floor of a nearby cave and place a small fire there. It was completely hidden from view and hot enough to produce almost no smoke at all. And if it was detected, at least there, it would not lead anyone directly to the survivors. Fresh meat combined with the provisions the Lathans provided meant the first hot food these men had eaten in weeks. There was no question that morale had improved overnight, despite the grim news about their laird.

Aileana had stayed with the MacAnalen and their healer until dawn, when Angus relieved her from her vigil. She’d slept for a few hours on the pallet Toran had laid out for her, then joined him in a light meal from their travel provisions. She didn’t have much to say; rather, she watched the entrance to the cave where Angus sat with his brother.

Now that she faced him, he was reminded of what Angus had told him as they left the Aerie. Anger forgotten in the perils of their journey and the events after they’d arrived resurfaced as Toran recalled that she had chosen Angus to share her truths with instead of him.

Sitting and waiting grated on Toran’s nerves. The death watch was only part of it. Waiting for the sun to set and the prospect of the harrowing return to the Aerie was only part of it. Waiting for Aileana to confide in him—aye, that was the worst.

Why had she trusted Angus over him? Had the wine truly loosened her tongue so much that hadn’t realized what she was saying? Or had she sensed in Angus’s calm demeanor someone with whom she could lay aside her burdens?

What must he do to prove himself to her? Surely she could no longer fear him, if she ever did. He’d cared for her, fought off challenges from his own people for her. He’d shown her in all the ways he could think of that she belonged with him. He wanted her, fiercely. And she wanted him, too. Of that he was certain, despite her reticence.

Must they forever test each other, never quite sure, instead of sharing the passion that was between them and allowing it to grow?

For the moment, he had only one way to measure her. If she could only trust him enough to share with him the secret that she had shared with Angus, then he could believe she might be willing to accept his love and his clan.

Their sparse meal eaten, she played with her empty cup, twisting it first this way, then that, with nimble fingers. She glanced at him, then away again at the cave where Angus was dimly visible. Then back at him. She sighed.

“I suppose Angus told you about our conversation.”

Aileana’s simple statement broke the lengthy silence and caused Toran’s heart to swell in his chest. Here it was, then. The truth he needed to hear from her.

“Aye.” He barely got the word out past the catch in his throat.

“Are you angry with me?”

Toran found that he had it within him to forgive her for all his sleepless nights and bad tempers.

“For protecting yerself? Nay. That would be foolish.”

She kept her eyes downcast. “For lying to you.”

“I canna say that I approve of that. But why carry on with the lie even in the Aerie? Even with me?”

Aileana looked at him then, and folded her hands around the cup in her lap. He saw that her cheeks were stained with red. She quickly dropped her gaze before she answered him. “I did not know how I would be received. Whether the same precaution would be necessary…as it was in the camp. I feared you would treat me as a captive is treated.”

Toran managed to swallow the anger that scalded from his chest to his throat and put all the sincerity he could muster into his reply. She thought him no better than a barbarian to claim her as a prize of war? Use her? Over her objections? Gods. “But I didna. I would never force a woman. Ye ken that now, do ye no’?”

“Do I? You’ve touched me, kissed me, even when I told you it was not allowed.”

Toran frowned. He couldna deny it. He had. But he had also fought his urges and resisted the temptation to do more, much more. “Can ye blame me for wantin’ ye, Aileana? I do, more than ye ken. But I didna harm ye, did I? I willna.”

“You’ll leave me be?”

“For now, aye. But no’ forever, Aileana. We mean something to each other. Ye feel it as I do.” He reached out to touch her, but drew his hand back, forcing himself not to betray his frustration by balling it into a fist. She wanted him to leave her be. He had to give her time, no matter the pain this restraint caused him, and right now, it was causing him plenty. He was nearly bursting from wanting her, and the anticipation of holding her lush body in his arms, her rear snuggled against him for the long hours of the ride back tonight was near to killing him.

She didn’t answer him for the space of several heartbeats. Toran held his breath, never taking his gaze from her as she struggled with her answer. The camp around them seemed to disappear. There was no one near. Only her.

“What are you saying?” she finally asked and Toran found he could breathe again. She did not deny the connection between them. “That we’re attracted to each other? Aye, I suppose we are. But I’ll not be your mistress, no matter what we might feel for each other.”

“I ken that, lass. I do,” he said, relief making his voice gruff. “When ye’re ready. Only then.”

“When I’m ready for what?”

Toran gritted his teeth. It seemed that Aileana was deliberately avoiding understanding him. But she was talking to him. That gave him hope. He could not risk scaring her into closing away from him again. He meant to have her, to bind her to him and to his clan forever, but if that meant waiting, biding his time while he drew her out and let her adjust to the idea, he would find the strength to do it.

Somehow.

But, no. He had to prove to her that he was serious about a future with her. “To become my wife and the lady of my clan.”

“What?”

Toran glanced quickly around, but no one else seemed to have heard her startled exclamation.

“There will be time, lass. All ye need. And when ye find that ye are ready, we will marry.”

“Marry?”

What did she think they were discussing? Damn, she was gripping that cup so tightly, her fingers were turning white. He’d only meant to reassure her that he would no’ dally with her and cast her aside. At least she was no longer looking toward Angus. Her attention was solely where Toran wanted it: on him.

“Or we can handfast if ye wish to take more time to be sure of…of me.”

“Isn’t that the same?”

“Nay. We simply promise to marry in the future and if we don’t…well, it will be merely a betrothal. But if ye decide ye do no’ wish to wait for the priest and the kirk, then ’tis a simple matter to make the betrothal into a marriage.”

“Oh?”

Heat climbed up Toran’s neck into his face. Ballocks! This was not going the way he’d intended at all. Not that he’d intended to have this conversation here, now, under these circumstances. She deserved more. To be cosseted, wooed, until she could admit she cared for him, too. Not this too frank, too abrupt discussion. It was not the way to win a lady. But she’d asked and he had to answer.