The Healer (27 page)

Reaching over her lithe form, he scooped cool liquid into his hand and sprinkled it over her bared paleness. Her gasps echoed in his ears. Tiny bumps erupted on her skin. Water droplets glistened on every part of her and he licked the moisture from her flesh, worshipping her. Lynelle’s shuddering release quivered against his lips, his tongue.

Quenching his thirst only heightened his raging hunger. He crawled up over her, positioned himself where his mouth had been and stared down at her flushed features.

Her beauty awed him and her unwavering kindness humbled him.

She was his. He pushed into her wet heat. No one would dare to take her away from him.

Her hips rose to meet each gliding thrust. His arms shook as he drove into her, time and time again. Her cries of rapture filled the sunny glade, stealing his control like a thief. He roared as his life’s essence spilled deep within her.

Tonight. Tonight he’d ask her to stay. Tonight he’d tell Lynelle he loved her.

***

Having donned his shirt and boots, William assisted Lynelle into her gown, unable to control the urge to kiss her neck and shoulder. He was helpless to stop his fingers from skimming her breasts and the curve of her hip as he did so. Lynelle’s shy smiles and fluttering lashes made him want to tear the clothes right off her again.

But the day was waning. Using the anticipation of the coming night to quell his growing desire, he lay on the ground and rolled, wrapping his lower body into his plaid. Standing, he drew the end of the garment over his shoulder and tucked it at his waist.

Looking up, he found her expression had altered from playful modesty to one of rapt fascination. He did the only thing he could. He offered her a courtly bow. She rewarded his efforts with a glowing smile that made the radiance of the mid-afternoon sun seem bleak.

Beautiful
.

He moved without thought. His hands cupping her face, his body as hot as newly forged steel. Wide, shining eyes peered up at him as his thumb slowly traced her lower lip. He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. The warm breath from her parted lips brushed his cheek.

Forcing himself to step back, he stared into her misted gaze. ‘We must go,’ he said quietly. ‘Now.’

Taking her hand, they walked to where Black stood nibbling tufts of greenery.

‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ she said, as he grasped the dangling reins and began leading them toward the trees. Her head was bowed and he wondered if she referred to the glade or to Closeburn itself.

Where the meadow collided with the forest, he lifted her and carried her through the shadowed wood. Holding her seemed right, natural. She relaxed in his arms and he rested his chin on the crown of her head, his mount trailing close behind.

Light penetrated the dimness as they neared the exit on the opposite side of the forest. William’s chest tightened, as did his arms. The world would rush in the moment they left the trees. He didn’t want their interlude to end, not yet.

Beneath the boughs of an ancient oak, he reluctantly released his hold and her slender form slid down his length. As he tucked stray wisps of red-gold behind her ears, slim fingers stilled his hands.

‘I want to stay.’ Her softly spoken words stunned him. ‘I know we agreed on my leaving once Leslie’s babe is born, but...’

Filtered light painted her face. Her eyes were large, her gaze direct.

‘Why?’ His heart knocked against his ribs.

‘You have no healer. I like it here.’

‘Are these your only reasons for wanting to stay? Honesty is important to me, Lynelle.’ His heart pounded on the wall of his chest. Here was her chance to unburden the secret she’d concealed with a kiss.

‘You,’ she whispered. ‘I want to be with you.’

His heart soared, but he needed more.

‘Is it possible?’ he asked.

She frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

William lowered his hands and turned them so he was left holding hers. He loathed what he was about to do, but he had to know. He would have asked the same questions this night, if she hadn’t broached the subject first.

‘Is there nae one waiting for your return?’

‘No.’ She pulled her fingers from his grasp. Her lashes dipped, hiding her thoughts, once again.

His shoulders stiffened. Cupping her chin, he tilted her face up and searched her expression. Her gaze flickered and danced like a startled deer’s. Why?

His body tensed. Forcing a light tone, he said, ‘Will nae one sicken without your skills? Will nae avenging brother ride to your rescue?’ She slowly shook her head. ‘Nae irate father wanting to spill my blood?’ he finished softly.

‘If anyone cared, do you not think they would have come for me already?’ A hint of bitterness scored her voice. Sadness clouded her eyes. ‘Truly, there is no one.’

‘Then it is my greatest wish for you to remain here.’

Lowering his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, hoping to erase her hurt and his guilt for causing it. He released her mouth while he still could. ‘We’d best return, else Mary will have the entire clan searching for us.’

She gave him a true smile. He gathered Black’s leather reins and they stepped out into the sunshine. Walking side by side, they headed back to the castle. The tension had eased from his body but his thoughts ran riot.

Where were they to go from here? He loved her, but did she feel the same for him? Wanting to be with him wasn’t a declaration of love and if she did, she’d just missed the perfect opportunity to tell him, as well as the chance to share whatever troubled her. Such strong emotions were new to him and he suddenly shied away from revealing the secrets of his heart.

The castle came into view as they rounded a bend in the path. Raised voices filled the air. Narrowing his gaze, William studied the scene and the six mounted men clustered on the landside of Castle Loch. Numerous clansmen lined the banks on the opposite side, shouting at the intruders.

He turned to Lynelle and grasped her upper arms. ‘Go back to the forest. Stay out of sight until I come for you.’

Placing a quick kiss on her mouth, he threw himself into the saddle and drew his sword from the scabbard secured to Black’s flank.

‘Who are they?’

‘I don’t know, but they’re English.’ He tore his gaze from the unwelcome strangers and looked down at Lynelle. ‘Go into the trees, Lynelle. You’ll be safe there.’

Black leapt forward at his silent command and thundered toward those who dared to invade his domain. Six against one were terrible odds, but as he drew closer he turned his mount slightly to the left, keeping the Englishmen between himself and the loch. If a fight ensued, he’d do his best to drive as many of the curs as he could into the water.

He drew his mount to a halt as Donald’s voice rang clear and loud.

‘Naught here belongs to you.’

‘I will not go anywhere until you return what is rightfully mine.’ Anger vibrated in the clipped English tone.

Fury ignited in William’s blood. ‘What precisely do you think we have that is yours?’ He didn’t shout, but the authority in his tone caused all six intruders to turn and face him.

The older man who’d delivered the threat nudged his horse to the forefront.

Leaning forward, crossing his wrists, William patiently withstood the man’s lengthy perusal of himself and his drawn sword.

‘Give me my son’s horse and we will leave.’

His son’s horse?

‘Who are you?’ William asked.

‘I am John Fenwick, lord of Fenwick Keep.’

Running footsteps sounded. William spun about in his saddle and his heart plummeted to his toes. ‘Stop, Lynelle.’ With a jerk of his knees, Black shifted into her path. She dodged his mount, and without looking his way she pulled up near the English lord.

‘Father!’ she cried. ‘You came.’

Father?

William stiffened. Her father was an English lord.

Truly, there is no one
.

William stared at Lynelle. Pain twisted his heart.

‘The horse was a gift to my son, my heir, for his last birthday.’ The English voice penetrated the thick haze that was fogging William’s mind. He saw Lynelle’s smile slip, watched as her complexion paled.

‘I’ve come for what’s mine. Give me the horse and I will be on my way.’

William looked at John Fenwick and stared into cold, blue eyes. ‘Donald,’ William called.

‘Aye.’

‘Fetch the mount we borrowed from Lord Fenwick.’

The nobleman nodded and his mouth turned up at the ends in what William took to be a smile, though it looked more like a sneer.

Footfalls behind William drew his attention. He turned and watched as Keita’s steps faltered. ‘What is it, lass?’

‘I’ve come for Lynelle,’ she said as she eyed the strangers. ‘Leslie’s babe is coming.’

William peered at Lynelle. Her gaze was fixed on her father, her face crestfallen.

With a nod, William gestured for Keita to approach Lynelle, who jumped as the young woman touched her arm. ‘Lynelle, Leslie needs your help.’

‘Oh.’ She looked up at him. Heart twisting further, William stared down at her. He had no clue as to his expression but Lynelle’s face suddenly bleached of all remaining colour. ‘Oh, of course.’ She ducked her head and then left with Keita for the village.

Stunned, anger igniting beneath his skin, William sat his mount and watched her go. Why hadn’t she told him who her father was? What other untruths had she shared? What other secrets did she hide?

The horse they’d used to drag Edan’s litter was being brought across the loch on the flat-topped barge, along with Donald, Dougal and their horses.

‘Are you Scots so barbaric or so desperate you would trust a cursed woman, a murderer, to birth your children?’

William slowly turned and witnessed the smirks on the faces of John Fenwick’s men. They’d obviously heard their lord’s comments and agreed. But Lord Fenwick’s slight of William’s people paled in comparison to how he spoke of Lynelle. The woman he loved. The woman who’d lied to him.

Muscles bunching and flexing as anger swelled into a controlled rage, William coaxed Black nearer to Lord Fenwick and leaned in close. ‘Are you English so stiff or so unmanly you fail to acknowledge a daughter of your own blood?’

Lord Fenwick’s lip curled. ‘I have no daughter.’

William eased back in his saddle and studied the English lord. ‘Aye, it seems I was mistaken.’ He clutched the hilt of his sword. ‘Lynelle has too much strength, too much courage to have sprung from your weak seed.’

Instead of drawing his sword, as William hoped, the nobleman blustered under his breath as his face mottled with rage.

‘Here is your son’s horse.’ William turned to his men. ‘Donald, Dougal, escort this English scum off my lands.’

LYNELLE struggled to put one foot in front of the other. Her heart sat like a rock in her chest. It hurt to breathe.

William’s expression, a mixture of shock and accusation, haunted her. She flinched at the memory. What must he think of her now he knew who she was? What she was? Now he knew she’d lied?

Keita continued relaying Leslie’s condition, but Lynelle only caught snippets through the buzzing sound and jumbled thoughts filling her head.

The gossamer thread of hope she’d foolishly clung to regarding her father had snapped and shrivelled to naught when he’d refused to even look at her. Strangely, she’d suffered not a twinge of pain as it broke and it had taken a moment for her to realise she was finally free.

But at what price?

A tortured cry split the air. Lynelle blinked and focused on the door Keita stepped forward to open. The young lass then chose to remain outside.

Heat from the fire splashed Lynelle’s face as she entered Leslie’s cottage. She swallowed past the lump of trepidation in her throat and looked around the stifling room.

Several iron pots of water bubbled in the centre of the flames. Linen strips, along with a sharp knife, herbs for cleansing and the lavender ointment she’d prepared days ago, all sat on a small rickety table nearby.

Elspeth nodded her welcome from beside the pallet where Leslie’s bulging form reclined, and continued mopping the expectant mother’s brow. Another wail of pain bounced off the roof and Leslie’s wide eyes rounded further before clenching shut.

Lynelle shuddered. Why in God’s name had she promised to aid Leslie in childbirth when she’d never even witnessed a babe entering the world?

Her stomach churned and beads of sweat popped out along her forehead. She couldn’t do this. What if something went wrong? What if she made a mistake? What if one of them... ?

‘Bless you...’ Leslie panted. ‘For coming...lass.’ She offered a strained smile.

Pretending to feel confident for Leslie’s sake, Lynelle smiled back. ‘I gave you my word,’ she said and made quick use of the cleansing herbs to wash her hands.

Knowing Elspeth had experienced two births of her own, and had assisted in others, boosted Lynelle’s fragile confidence. The older woman murmured constant words of praise as she bathed Leslie’s damp brow, and regularly peered beneath the sheet draping Leslie’s bent knees to ascertain the babe’s progress.

Lavender scented the hot, confined space as Lynelle rubbed salve onto Leslie’s swollen belly and aching back. Her fingers grew numb as Leslie clutched her offered hand during numerous ongoing contractions.

Elspeth announced it was time, and things proceeded swiftly.

After a last grunting push, Lynelle held a wrinkled, mottled little girl in her hands and a tremulous cry filled the room.

Elspeth held the babe as Lynelle cut and secured the cord with a strip of boiled leather, and then took the precious bundle away to be washed while Lynelle took care of Leslie.

With the bedding changed, the room set to rights and Leslie crooning softly to the miracle in her arms, Elspeth sent Keita to fetch Hearn, the worried first-time father.

The big man’s troubled face brightened as he crossed the threshold, his broad-grin easily seen through his thick, reddish beard.

Lynelle accepted the couple’s words of gratitude and congratulated them again. She left them to their joy and along with Elspeth left the cottage and stepped out into the coming night.