‘I can’t leave at dawn.’
Hell’s fire! William strove for patience, for calm. He stared into the dim passageway, suddenly desperate to be gone from this place, far from her alluring presence.
‘What time of day better suits your departure?’ He forced the mannered question through gritted teeth.
‘The time of day is not important. I cannot leave here and return to Fenwick with certain matters unfinished.’
His heartbeat quickened. Slowly turning his head, he studied the woman splashed with dancing torchlight. ‘Certain matters?’
‘I promised to aid Leslie during birth.’
Disappointment twisted his insides. Was her promise to Leslie the only reason for prolonging her stay? ‘When will the bairn arrive?’
‘A sennight, perhaps two.’
Relief ploughed through him. He had seven days, two weeks at best, to explore the maddening lust she inspired.
‘Done.’ William strode from the room.
Chapter 19
LYNELLE stared at the empty doorway until William’s footfall faded. The hissing of the torch and her thudding heart were the only sounds filling the chamber.
Saints and Glory. William had kissed her and she’d responded with unfettered abandon. She could still feel the gentle pressure of his hands on her neck, her shoulders. Still taste his masculine heat on her lips, her tongue.
Sliding her arms about her middle, she hugged herself, afraid the warm tingling feeling would disappear if she let go. A shiver of relief blossomed from inside out. She wouldn’t be leaving tomorrow.
While Leslie’s condition provided a reason to remain, William’s kiss inspired a desperate need, an uncontrollable longing to stay and to have him kiss her again.
Emboldened by certainty and a sense of purpose, Lynelle brewed Edan’s potion and left the healing room. Potion and herb sack in hand, she returned the torch to its holder on the landing and climbed the remaining stairs with excited determination.
She paused to catch her breath outside Edan’s chamber and a niggling doubt pricked holes in her newly found resolve. How would William treat her now? What must he think of her? Her heartbeat quickened. Did she look different?
Smoothing a wayward strand off her brow, she tried to quell the fluttering in her stomach. She inhaled deeply and knocked on the door.
‘Enter.’
The deep-voiced command reached through the wooden panel and her breath hitched. Tucking her sack under one arm, she unlatched the door and stepped inside.
William stood two paces in front of her, his powerful form blocking the view of the night outside the window. Her heart pulsed at a feverish rate and fire burned in her cheeks.
‘What took you so long, healer?’
Healer? Why didn’t he use her name? He knew full well the reason for her delay. Had he forgotten their kiss so soon? She searched his eyes and noted the steely glint lurking in the grey depths. Heat pooled in her belly.
He hasn’t forgotten.
‘Edan wanted to surprise you,’ William said.
Edan? Dear Lord. She’d forgotten why she was here, hadn’t even noticed Edan standing beside William.
‘You’re standing,’ she finally said.
‘Aye. I walked the full length of the room.’ A beaming smile lit his young face. ‘Will had Keith fashion a crutch to aid me. See.’
Lynelle studied the thick, wooden staff propped under his arm. She’d removed the stitches from his thigh two nights before, but hadn’t expected him to be walking so soon.
‘Oh Edan, what a splendid surprise.’ Resisting the urge to look at William, she lowered her healing sack to the floor. ‘Perhaps tomorrow, if the weather is fine, your brother could help you outside for some sunshine.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled at Edan’s whoop of delight. ‘But you must take it slowly and be careful not overdo it.’
‘I won’t. I promise,’ Edan said. ‘Is that the potion you brewed for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘May I have it now?’
‘Of course.’ Stepping closer, she noticed the fine sheen of sweat dampening Edan’s brow. Despite the crutch and William’s support, standing proved a strain for him.
Lynelle quickly lifted the cup and sipped, before passing the potion to William to sample. She caught his warning glance and swallowed the suggestion that Edan should return to his bed. Her gaze fixed on his throat as he drank and a rush of longing to press her lips against his neck stole her next breath. She wanted his mouth to cover hers, to feel his hands wander the length of her body.
Her heart leapt at the prospect, but she could discern nothing of William’s feelings from his guarded expression. Was she alone in yearning for more?
‘Ah. I thank you, Lynelle.’ She started at Edan’s words and accepted the empty cup he held out to her. ‘Now, allow me to see you safely to your room.’
‘Oh, ‘tis unnecessary, Edan.’ She heard the desperation in her voice. Time alone with William as he walked her to her room suddenly seemed precious.
‘After your tireless care of me, it would be my honour to escort you.’
She stared into grey eyes so similar to William’s in hue, but so different in how they viewed her. Instead of fire and ice, gratitude shone clear and bright. The strain of being on his feet after two weeks confined to his bed showed too, yet he suffered without complaint, for her. Shame for thinking to refuse his offer squeezed her selfish heart.
‘It would be my pleasure to have you accompany me to my door.’
He stretched to his full height, which left the top of his head even with William’s shoulder, and gave her a brisk nod. The tightness about her heart eased.
‘I fear I cannot take your arm... ‘
‘Hush, Edan,’ she chided gently, noting the pained grimace he fought to hide. ‘I am weary and would appreciate your escort now.’
She retrieved her sack and glanced at William, who remained steadfast beside his brother. She opened the door wide, wondering at his silence.
With a small smile for Edan, she slowly left the chamber. Each dull thud of his staff on the wooden floor preceded a sharp, indrawn breath. She winced at every harsh inhalation but refused to turn about and let him witness her concern, afraid of wounding his pride.
Reaching her door, she threw it wide and the light from the lit candles within her room spilled out into corridor. She cleared the worry from her brow and, forcing a smile, she looked behind her.
Edan panted slightly and his face was flushed.
‘Thank you for your escort,’ she said, inclining her head.
‘It is...my pleasure.’
‘I bid you good night,’ she said and entered her room.
‘Till the morn.’
William’s deep, rumbling voice shattered her feigned calm. A threat or a promise? She gripped the door latch with white fingers. As the brothers awkwardly retraced their steps to Edan’s chamber, William looked over his shoulder and his gaze collided with hers.
Lynelle closed the heavy door, spun around and sagged against the solid timber. Her sack slid from her fingers and she pressed her palms onto the cool wood.
Her pulse thudded wildly in her neck and her knees threatened to give way. How long must she wait to feel his hot, hungry mouth upon her starving lips?
***
William prowled the windowed wall of Edan’s chamber, keeping double-time to his brother’s slumbering snores. He threw the door another menacing glance, daring it to open of its own accord, affording him an excuse to march into the passageway and pound on her door.
Did she sleep while his lust for her robbed him of rest, stole his very mind? One more taste of her sweet lips would confirm whether this maddening desire was for her alone, or if he’d simply gone too long without slaking his base needs.
Liar.
Throwing himself into the large, sturdy chair he’d pretended to sleep in for the last two weeks, he wiped roughened hands over his face. K
issing her had ignited a fire in his blood, sparked a burning need to sample more than her lips.
He didn’t believe he was alone in his torment. She’d kissed him back with equal ardour and he hadn’t mistaken her struggle to keep her attention fixed on his brother afterward.
Edan mumbled and shifted in his sleep. William leaned forward to study him in the dim light. Praise God his wounds were healing and his spirits were high. William’s chest tightened at the memory of Edan’s chivalrous display. He’d felt Edan’s trembling weakness and wanted to order the lad to bed, but he didn’t have the heart to trample on his brother’s burgeoning pride and sense of honour.
Slumping back in the chair, he closed tired eyes. Edan had called him a hero days before. What name would Edan brand him when he discovered William planned to seduce the woman responsible for saving his life?
***
Lynelle clutched her herb sack in one hand and brushed stray wisps of hair from her cheeks with the other. It seemed she’d been standing by her door for untold hours, waiting for William to come for her.
Last night sleep had eluded her, providing her with boundless time to think. William held sway over the one thing she desired most.
To live. To feel alive.
His kiss had awakened a need so great, so real, she didn’t believe she’d survive without more. It showed her the difference between enduring life and living.
She wanted more.
A knock sounded. She stiffened. Pressing a hand to her middle, seeking to calm the fluttering in her belly, she smoothed the fabric of her gown for the hundredth time.
Anticipation shivered through her.
She freed her hand from beneath her cloak, stepped forward and unlatched the door. William filled the opening, his fresh, masculine scent filling her next breath.
She sank her teeth into her tongue and met his dark gaze. Heat flooded her cheeks and she grasped the edges of her cloak to stop the need to fan herself.
I want to taste you again.
The words he’d spoken last evening shone clearly in his eyes.
Her breath caught. Lowering her lashes, she stared at his mouth, his lips, up-tilted slightly at the corners. She struggled to appear composed.
‘How is Edan?’ she said, studying the square line of his jaw, wondering if the faint shadow would rasp against her skin.
‘Edan is well.’ He shifted. ‘Come. Others await your skills in the village.’
Inhaling deeply, she moved past him into the corridor and forced her legs to keep moving as a hand cupped her elbow. Her cloak proved no barrier to the warmth racing up and down her arm.
As they descended into the great hall, he released his hold and her blood seemed to slow within her veins. Servants stopped clearing the tables from the morning meal to throw glances their way. She returned their smiles, buoyed by their friendliness.
They stepped out into the sunlight, and William’s hand settled on the small of her back. His fingers softly stroked her sensitive flesh like a bard strumming his lute. His touch sent tendrils of heat sparking along the length of her spine as he guided her through the gates and down to the pier.
He ceased playing her as she climbed into the boat and her senses started to reassemble, only to scatter the moment he sat beside her on the bench seat, his hip and thigh pressing against hers.
Why did his caresses linger today, when he’d previously avoided touching her? Did he simply taunt her, or was he too hoping for more?
She turned and peered into the water as the vessel glided across the loch, the surface rippling in their wake. God help her. If she planned to savour his taste when he kissed her again, she needed to find a way to remain coherent. In her present state, she feared her body would soon resemble a steaming puddle in the bottom of the boat.
A bird cried overhead and she stared at the osprey’s white underbelly. What would it be like to know such freedom? Freedom to be herself, freedom to feel. She continued to watch the bird until it flew from sight.
Climbing ashore, she accepted the hand William offered. As her fingers wrapped around his, sparks rushed up her arm, but she drew strength from the sensation and welcomed the quickening of her blood.
She turned to the boatman. ‘Thank you, Geordie.’ Her voice rang clear and loud, despite her inner turmoil.
Geordie responded with a nod and his weathered cheeks coloured slightly.
A gentle tug on her hand had her turning about and together she and William struck out towards the village.
He released her hand, but his fingers slid along the tender skin of her wrist, where they stopped to encircle her lower arm. He remained silent and she wondered if he were speaking to her with his touch rather than words. Her mouth grew dry and she could feel herself sinking into oblivion again.
‘Tell me about the swans.’ Her question broke the serenity and his leisurely stride. His fingers firmed a fraction before slowly lowering her arm to her side and letting go.
‘Do you believe in myth and magic, curses and legends?’ he asked softly.
Lynelle’s stomach clenched. People said she was cursed, and blamed her for everything that went wrong. Even her own father shunned her.
‘I believe people seek answers from wherever they can when deeply troubled or hurt,’ she said.
‘It is easier to accuse something that has been whispered about for a hundred years,’ William said. ‘A story that holds nae truth, but saves those responsible because of who they are.’
‘A story told for so long must hold some truth,’ she said. ‘How did it begin?’
William sighed and she feared he’d refuse to tell her the tale.
‘‘Tis said many years ago, two swans used to visit Closeburn Castle. At least twice their appearance heralded the miraculous recovery for ill members of our family.’
Lynelle’s heart warmed at the notion.
‘The swans came to be regarded as tokens of good luck,’ William continued. ‘That was until one of my ancestors, it is said, cruelly shot one through the breast with a crossbow bolt.’
Lynelle gasped and looked at William. He strode on as if unaffected.
‘Thereafter, the apparition of a swan with a bleeding breast foretold a death or misfortune for the Kirkpatrick clan.’
Angels above.
‘Has anyone ever seen the bleeding swan?’
‘A few believe they have.’
‘Have you?’ Lynelle couldn’t take her eyes off William as she awaited his response. But from the rigid set of his jaw, she already knew his answer.
‘Nae.’
‘But why would they lie about seeing – ‘
He stopped and turned to her. ‘People see what they want to see when grieving. It is easier to blame an ancestor long gone, instead of accusing those who still live and are really at fault.’
His strained expression and pain-filled eyes told her more than anything he could say. He’d banished Jinny but bore the guilt for his family’s demise himself.
Reaching out, she grasped his fist and gently squeezed. ‘You are not to blame for their deaths, William.’
He shook free of her hold and his eyes narrowed. ‘You are now a seer as well as a healer?’
‘No.’
‘Then you speak out of turn.’
His harsh tone silenced her for a moment, but the despair in his eyes loosened her tongue.
‘In your grief, you sent Jinny away. You needed someone to blame and should not feel guilty.’
His expression turned to stone. His eyes glittered darkly. An aura of barely leashed anger surrounded him as he stood in silent fury before her.
‘You know nothing of my grief. Or guilt.’
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away.
‘I may know nothing of yours, but I carry my own.’ The words spilled free, without thought, and she suddenly knew she wasn’t to blame for surviving her birth when her mother and twin brother had died. How could a newborn babe be responsible for another’s death?
>
But why had she lived when they hadn’t?
‘You said you weren’t born or raised to be laird, but what if you were meant to be leader of your clan?’
‘I would rather have my family back.’
‘Of course, but do you not think things happen for a reason?’
‘Nae. Things happen because we grow lax and allow them to.’
‘But–?’
‘Enough.’ He speared his fingers through his hair. ‘Come. The day passes and we’ve done naught but talk nonsense.’
Lynelle stared at William’s rigid back as she followed him the rest of the way to the village. For her, it hadn’t been nonsense, but a revelation.
In her father’s grief, he’d needed to focus his pain and suffering on someone. That someone had been her. The people of Fenwick had followed his example and though she’d borne their condemnation, she at least now understood why.
If William had suffered because he was meant to be laird, why had she survived? Could it be her whole cursed existence led her to this place, to William? If so, what was her true purpose here?
Was it to become the healer she claimed to be by aiding the sick? Was she meant to restore William’s faith in healers? Or was she here to experience life as she’d never known it before?
Chapter 20
GOD above. Was the healer trying to absolve him of his guilt while he’d been attempting to seduce her?
Her view of why his family had died, while he yet lived, cast a little light on his shadowed soul. Then again, perhaps it had only been a reflection of her goodness.
Was she right? Had he always been meant to be laird?
The thought persisted as he helped Ian form dirt mounds and lay seed for Keita’s family. Once done, they visited the other cottages and aided the men with their spring planting. It was a task he’d often performed before Roger’s death, after which other matters had consumed his time and stolen his peace of mind.
Now, as he stood alongside his clansmen and appraised their handiwork, a sense of pride washed over him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the manual labour and the satisfaction it granted.
He had a good comradeship with the clan folk and was respected by Closeburn’s men-at-arms. He also felt responsible for every soul living within the castle and village confines.
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