Under the Highlander's Spell (22 page)

“I would do whatever was necessary to save you.”

“Even believe in witches?” she asked, amazed, for he had made it known that he did not believe in such nonsense.

“I would believe for you,” he said, and stole a teasing kiss, not giving her a chance to respond.

She placed her cool hand to his cheek, and the warmth of his flesh sent tingles rushing up her arm. “You really do love me.”

“You doubted?” he asked, alarmed.

“No, I'm startled by the depth of your love. It makes it so very real.”

“More real than I ever thought possible,” he said, and kissed the palm of her hand.

She shivered from the pleasurable tingles that continued to race through her. “You always excite me.”

“If only we had time,” he whispered.

“I must stay with Honora.”

“I know, but know I will be waiting for you,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

She giggled. “Believe me, I won't forget.”

 

By mid-afternoon Honora's pains had subsided, and it worried Zia. She feared it would only prove to be a long laborious time for Honora until the babes were finally ready. And of course she worried too that perhaps there might be something wrong with the babes.

Only time would tell, and she had plenty of that…or at least she thought she did.

Addie entered the bedchamber, having gone to see how her sons were doing, and returned with a look of concern.

“What is it?” Zia asked, her heart already sensing something was seriously wrong. “Has something happened to Artair?”

“Is Cavan all right?” Honora asked frantically.

Addie looked to Zia. “Bishop Aleatus arrives by nightfall and requests to meet with you immediately.”

A
rtair and Cavan climbed the stairs to speak with Zia, while Lachlan and several clansmen were sent to escort the bishop's caravan the remainder of the way to the keep.

“We need the cleric's signature and official seal for this to work,” Cavan said, shaking his head. “And he's still about two days away.”

“One and a half if he didn't stop to rest,” Artair said, hoping the man just might think the same, after all the message sent to him spoke of the immediacy of the situation.

“We'll have to find a way—” Cavan stopped, almost bumping into his mother as he turned a curve on the stair.

“Oh dear,” Addie said, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“What's—”

The agonizing scream reverberated down the stairs, causing everyone to say a silent prayer for Honora.

Cavan rushed past his mother, though she remained close on his heels yelling, “Wait! Wait!”

Artair came up behind them and, entering the bedchamber, almost collided with Cavan, who had stopped abruptly. Zia and Honora were laughing.

“What goes on here?” Cavan demanded, going straight to his wife.

“I've come up with the solution to the problem,” Honora said proudly. “I intend to scream loud enough for the bishop to realize my dire circumstances, and to force him to see the wisdom in delaying his talk with Zia.”

“I was just about to go down another level to see if her scream was loud enough when I bumped into you,” Addie said to her son, then turned to Honora. “It was perfect.”

“I'd say so, since it scared the hell out of me,” Cavan complained, though he smiled at Honora. “Good idea, wife.”

“Is it feasible?” Artair asked Zia.

“Women can sometimes take days to birth a babe, often due to complications, which I'm certain any woman asked will confirm,” she said.

“But Honora is all right? She'll deliver the babe sooner than a few days, right?” Cavan asked cautiously.

Honora took his hand. “The babes.”

“Babes?” Cavan and Artair said in unison.

“Oh my, I didn't mean to tell you just yet,” Honora said, though she grinned happily. “I will give you two children.”

Cavan looked utterly confused. “But you are so tiny, how could you—” He turned directly to Zia. “She will be all right?”

“So far so good,” Zia said with a firm nod.

Cavan seemed satisfied with her answer, but Artair knew better. He knew Zia well enough to realize that she would never make a promise she might not be able to keep. And she was informing him that everything looked fine now, but beyond that, she could not say.

He wanted to talk with Zia alone, not only about Honora's condition, but about the bishop and what she might face. He walked over to her and took her hand.

“I'm going to steal my wife for a while,” he said, easing Zia away from the bed. “We'll be right outside in the hall.”

“It's good that you stay close, and it's good that you refer to her as your wife,” Cavan said with a curt nod that appeared more like a command.

“Nonsense,” Honora scolded. “Zia will be locked away in here these next couple of days. Take her to the battlements, Artair, so she can get some fresh air.”

Zia smiled and Artair thanked Honora, while Cavan scowled but said nothing. Artair grabbed his brother's cloak from the peg near the door and hurried Zia up the stairs to the battlements.

“It's gorgeous,” Zia said and snuggled in Artair's arms after he wrapped the heavy wool cloak around them.

“The stark barrenness of the moors can either shiver the soul or still the heart,” he said looking out over the familiar scene that never failed to still his heart. “I'm glad to finally share it with you and glad you feel the same.”

“How could I not? It's stunning, and now…” She smiled and kissed his lips softly. “…it's my home.”

Artair returned the kiss with a more passionate one wrapping his arms more tightly around her until her body was firm against his and he could feel the entire length of her.

As he ended the kiss, he whispered, “A home where you will always be safe.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, it is in your arms where I will always be safe.”

His heart soared along with his love for her, and he spoke from his heart. “I never expected to love the woman whom I would make my wife as much as I love you. I never realized what it meant to love until you showed me.”

“You were an apt pupil,” she teased.

“And I will continue to be.”

She shook her head. “No, we now teach each other.”

They kissed again, and Artair realized that if they continued kissing it would certainly lead to them making love, and they needed to talk.

“I wish there were time—”

Zia stopped him. “As do I, but we have urgent matters at hand.”

“Tell me the truth about Honora and the babes,” he said, and smiled. “Two. How wonderful for my brother and her. That is, if all goes well.”

“I have no reason to believe it won't, but the babes can't seem to decide if they're ready to be born or not, and that worries me. But there is nothing I can do at the moment. Only time will tell, and to be honest, it is better I remain with her and not have to concern myself with speaking to the bishop. But what of the marriage documents? He'll want to see them right away, won't he?”

“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.”