The Healer

by Allison Butler

  A knock startled him. Nae one aside from Mary knew he was here and he’d left her to watch over Edan.

  Edan.

  He raced to the door and wrenched it inward. ‘What...?’ Any further words died on his tongue.

  The fire blazing within the room brushed over the figure standing in the doorway. His gaze drifted down the linen-clad form to the bare toes hardly visible in the shadows, before skimming back up to the high neck of the nightgown. His hand clenched on the door, remembering what lay beneath her modest attire.

  ‘Edan...?’ The rasping voice didn’t sound like his own.

  ‘Is well. He sleeps and Mary still watches over him.’

  The tension riding his shoulders eased as fear for his brother ebbed.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Concern coated her soft-spoken enquiry and the tip of her tongue licked her upper lip.

  His body tightened at the memory of how sweet her mouth tasted.

  ‘Aye. There’s naught wrong with me.’ He should bid her good night and close the door. ‘Why are you here, Lynelle?’

  ‘Mary worried for you but didn’t like to leave Edan and –’

  ‘So you came in her stead,’ he interrupted.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Once again putting yourself in danger – ‘

  ‘Danger? I simply climbed the stairwell – ‘

  ‘In complete darkness.’ His voice deepened with his rising frustration. ‘Even I had the sense to carry a candle,’ he said, gesturing inside the room.

  Her gaze followed the direction of his hand and her effort to see inside the chamber gave him a glimpse of her slender throat as she craned her neck.

  His nostrils flared as her slight movement released the faint smell of lavender. Scaling the stairs in the dark wasn’t the only danger she faced as she stood before him, painted in shadows and firelight.

  How would she react if he were to plunge his fingers through her soft golden hair, tilt her head and praise her foresight with his lips, his tongue?

  ‘Are you certain you’re well?’ she said. His gaze lifted from her mouth to find her studying him, her brow furrowed. ‘You seem...distressed.’

  Distressed?

  If wanting to drag her into the chamber and turn his thoughts into reality caused him to appear distressed, he couldn’t argue with her assessment.

  ‘It might help to speak to someone of your troubles,’ she continued.

  Dear God. If he weren’t struggling so hard to keep his body in check, he’d laugh. Did she have no clue that she was the cause of his distress?

  ‘My troubles are my own. But I thank you for your concern.’ He sounded calm, polite.

  ‘But – ‘

  ‘I suggest you return to your bed,’ he interrupted. His will to leave her untouched was rapidly failing. The stricken look in her wide eyes didn’t aid in his battle.

  ‘Good night, Lynelle.’ He made to close the door.

  ‘Wait!’ She stepped forward, barring it with her hand.

  Her actions brought her closer. The smell of lavender grew stronger. His control slipped another notch and he had to concentrate hard to keep his breathing even.

  ‘What now? I am weary and wish – ‘

  ‘A kiss,’ she said softly.

  Christ Almighty. His body turned rigid, every muscle locked in place.

  ‘Just one kiss and I will leave you in peace.’

  Peace? He hadn’t known a moment of peace since she’d traded herself for Fenwick’s heir. Blood pounded through his body. Heat – bred by the need to hold her, taste her, lose himself within her goodness – seared his heart.

  His restraint hung by a gossamer thread. Directness hadn’t driven her from his door, but perhaps a threat would.

  Deepening his tone, he said, ‘Heed me, Lynelle. If I grant you your wish, I will not stop at a single kiss.’ He leaned toward her a fraction and her palm slid from the door to her side. She didn’t back away.

  Stubborn woman.

  Locking his arms across his chest, he formed what he hoped was a dangerous expression on his face. He skimmed her form with his gaze, expecting her to flee while he looked his fill. She stood her ground. The only difference in her appearance was the increased tempo of her chest as it rose and fell beneath the clinging fabric of her nightgown.

  Christ! How much more could he take?

  Then she moved. But instead of turning for the stairs, she brushed passed him into the room. Her eyes never once left his. Firelight shone in her gaze, but a flicker of something else brightened the glow.

  With a single step, he closed the distance between them. Cupping her head, he tilted her face up and captured her tormenting mouth with his.

  Her soft lips parted and lust roared through his veins. He feasted on her eagerness and innocence, ravenous, as if starved of warmth and light.

  Stop!

  Wrenching his mouth from hers, he stared down into glazed pools of blue. Ragged, panted breaths filled his ears. His. Hers. He wanted her with a desperation he didn’t understand. An aching need so powerful, he believed he’d shatter if he moved.

  A soft touch seared his chest. Clenching his eyes shut, he waited for his body to splinter into a thousand shards of fired steel.

  Calling on God and the saints to give her the sense to escape while she could, William forced his fingers to loosen their hold in her hair.

  His desire for her was too great, too consuming. This woman stirred feelings of more than lust, made him crave more than her body alone. Somehow she’d slipped inside the barriers of his bruised heart. After wallowing in self-imposed darkness, Lynelle had gifted him with light to free his soul.

  She’d fulfilled her promise, earned her freedom. He couldn’t ask more of her. He had no choice but to deny his need, leaving her as virtuous as the day they’d met.

  He opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. Her clear gaze met his unflinchingly before roaming his features. He let her look her fill, willing his hands not to reach for her.

  Long lashes dipped over her enchanting eyes as she blinked.

  He forced the words asking her to stay with him to lie unspoken on his tongue.

  She turned to the open door.

  William ground his teeth, his hands curling into tight fists as painful disappointment ripped through his chest.

  Let her go.

  One delicate hand lifted, pushing the door closed, sealing her inside the room. Sealing her fate and his.

  Chapter 22

  LYNELLE had barely turned around before powerful hands grasped each side of her head and demanding lips crashed over hers. Opening her mouth, she begged his tongue inside, her body quivering with fervent need.

  He tasted of fire and a desperate longing matching her own. Her fingers burrowed into his linen shirt, dragging his heated body nearer.

  Dear God, it wasn’t enough. She wanted him pressed tightly against her, desperate to feel every masculine inch of him.

  His mouth left hers. She gasped ‘no’ and then shivered as his lips burned a path along her cheek.

  ‘Too late, Lynelle.’ His hot breath scorched her ear. ‘You should have escaped while you could. I’ll not let you go now.’

  Praise God.

  A shudder ripped through her, stealing her breath, her voice.

  Sliding her hands over his shoulders, she clutched his head and pulled him closer. Her actions would have to speak for her.

  His palm cupped her breast and her back arched as she thrust her chest forward. Her fingers tangled in his soft dark hair as his lips and hands brought her body to life. Heat prickled her skin and she was sure she’d burst into flames. Questing lips again sought hers and she relished the air he breathed back into her struggling lungs.

  Strong arms swept her off her feet. Clinging to his neck, she revelled in his taste as he carried her further into the room. Their lips parted and her eyes flew open as she settled onto something soft and silky.

  Panting heavily, she stared into William’s serious visage. His
smouldering eyes blazed in his flushed face and his harsh breathing awakened something primitive within her.

  Fingers skimmed her calves, pushing her nightgown higher. She wriggled, trying to aid him as his other hand plucked loose the laces at her neck. William whipped away the confining cloth.

  There was no time for modesty as with frantic hands she helped him shed his shirt and plaid. Finally as naked as she, he collapsed on the bed, kissing her with increasing urgency. She drank him in, absorbing his wildness, becoming his equal.

  The coarse hairs on his limbs and chest grazed her sensitive skin. Lips seared her throat, her breasts, and she cried out her joy, her need, welcoming his weight as he settled atop her. She opened her arms and her heart as he probed her woman’s core. Pressure nudged at the juncture between her thighs. Wet heat filled the centre of her being. She clawed at his arms, blindly seeking more.

  Palms cradled each side of her head as his mouth took hers in a flaming kiss. She stiffened as a flash of pain tore through her lower body. Soothing, whisper-soft kisses fluttered over her eyes, her cheeks and the corners of her mouth.

  His hips shifted, gently rocking against her and the discomfort faded as a new sensation built inside her. Rising beneath him, she met each flex of his hips as the unfamiliar feeling swelled and spread within. Their movements became frenzied. She strained against him, with him, desperately trying to reach the illusive prize she sensed hovering a wisp away.

  Blazing heat and light rushed through her, as if she’d touched the sun. She gasped and shuddered and clung to William as a mighty roar echoed in her ears. Tiny shivers rippled inside her and trembled across her flesh. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest and she gasped for air.

  Her pulse slowed, her body hummed.

  Bone weary, she couldn’t move.

  She’d never felt so alive.

  William shifted, sliding off her. She wanted to protest, but couldn’t speak and her limbs ignored her command to draw him back.

  A moment later his warmth returned and she curled against his side, as gentle caresses skimmed her face and trailed through her hair.

  ‘Forgive me.’

  His low-voiced words confused her. Lifting heavy lids, she gazed into William’s eyes, now darkened with concern.

  Her heart twisted in her chest. There was nothing to forgive. She’d wanted this as much as he had. Had vowed to again have his strong arms around her, his lips upon hers.

  Lacking strength and words to reassure him, she gave the only absolution she could.

  She smiled.

  ***

  William stared down at the woman cushioned against his side. Her eyes slid closed, but her smile lingered on her reddened lips. A smile for him. He resisted the urge to lean down and kiss the curved bow of her mouth.

  She looked small and fragile. Her smooth, pale skin so different compared to his rough, tanned flesh.

  Beautiful.

  He’d asked for forgiveness, but not for joining with her. He’d never experienced such pleasure, such magic. But when he’d broken through the barrier proclaiming her innocence, he’d caused her pain.

  The moment she closed the door, making love to her was inevitable. His struggle for control had been overwhelmed by passion and a desperate urgency to have her, to know her intimately.

  Her trust humbled him. He’d relished every nail she’d scored down his back. She’d clung to him, her sweat-slicked body wrapping about his as if he were vital to her existence. Her gasps and cries of pleasure echoed in his ears. Her violent trembling when she’d reached her peak fired his blood.

  His body hummed with life at the memory. Stroking damp tendrils of hair from her forehead, he forced his breathing to slow, willed his body to relax. Easing his head onto the bolster, he continued caressing her, savouring the feel of her in his arms.

  ***

  Inhaling feminine heat and lavender, William emerged from a deep, peaceful sleep. The lithe form curled in his embrace stirred as he slipped from the large bed. He perused her pale, slender body with hungry eyes.

  Mine.

  The thought loomed, and he quickly draped the silk coverlet over her enticing restlessness.

  Padding to the open window, he stared out as night’s chill breath wafted through the portal, cooling his rising flesh. The half-moon hadn’t completed its duty, but hung mid-way on its descending journey, proving he hadn’t slept for long.

  Unwelcome thoughts crowded his head. How many times would the moon rise and fall before Lynelle left?

  His chest tightened.

  He wanted her to stay.

  He rubbed roughened hands over his face and walked to the hearth. Stoking the embers, he added more wood, silently berating himself for a fool.

  He should have ignored her kindness, turned his back on her encouragement and mastered his lust, his desire.

  Too late.

  Her unwavering spirit had seeped into the closed confines of his heart and sprinkled seeds of hope. Her caring, gentle ways nurtured aspirations of trust and...love? Emotions he’d believed lost to him.

  He stood, shaken by the knowledge that he could still feel so deeply. Though he stood within the safe confines of his castle, the strange feeling of being out of place surged through him.

  He retrieved his clothes from the floor and dressed. Scooping up Lynelle’s nightgown, he laid it at the end of the huge bed. His gaze trailed over the rumpled covers to the face peeking out from within the folds.

  Again, his chest constricted at the sight of her. She’d burrowed beneath the protective walls he’d erected around his heart, when he’d been certain he was safe from the mightiest foe.

  But not safe from one small, foolishly brave English healer who had a life far from Closeburn.

  Marching to the door, he escaped the room, crowded as it was with too many startling revelations, and descended the stairs to the next level. Slipping into his brother’s chamber, he found both Edan and Mary sleeping soundly.

  He returned to the dim corridor and crept down the stairwell to the great hall. Keeping close to the wall to avoid his clansmen’s pallets, he entered the deserted kitchens and lit a fire in one of the giant cooking hearths.

  While he waited for the water in the deep iron pot to boil, he prepared a meal of bread, smoked ham and cheese, and sat at the long, scarred table to eat. The mundane activities and the quiet of the room washed over him, soothing him. But he couldn’t escape his thoughts.

  He was tired of brooding. Lynelle was still here. It was up to him to convince her to remain at Closeburn after the birth of Leslie’s babe. He alone had the power to persuade Lynelle to return to his bed for however long she decided to stay.

  But first he needed to know if she despised him. She’d ignored his warning and he’d carried out his threat, giving her much more than a kiss.

  The sound of bubbling water drew him. Downing the last of his ale, he placed the wooden cup on the table and rose. He poured the hot water into a pail and prepared a tray of food. Controlled determination filled his every movement as he carried both the water and tray above stairs.

  His steps faltered as he entered his chamber. Lynelle sat in the centre of the huge bed. She looked soft and tussled, the silken covers wrapped loosely about her lush form. His body hardened.

  Forcing his legs to move, he closed the door with his foot and set the pail on the floor and the tray upon the square table beside the bed. Drawing a long, slow breath, he fought his rampant desire.

  He turned and studied her.

  Colour stained her cheeks, and patches of red marred her slender throat and the smooth ridge of her shoulders. All proof of his fierce hunger and whiskered jaw. His gut clenched.

  ‘Did I hurt you?’ His voice rang low.

  Her brow furrowed. ‘No.’

  His muscles relaxed and he exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

  Her eyes suddenly widened. ‘Why? Did I hurt you?’

  Lord God, she was serious. Her guileless concern caused
his heart to stall in his chest. His heartbeat resumed and he wondered how she’d react to seeing the scratches he could feel beneath his shirt.

  ‘Nae.’

  Her forehead cleared and she seemed to sink deeper into the bed.

  ‘Any regrets?’ He had to know.

  ‘For not hurting you?’

  He stared down at her. Was she teasing him? A small smile tilted the corners of her still swollen lips.

  ‘No, Will. I have no regrets,’ she said softly.

  ‘Good.’ His mouth relaxed. His pulse thudded wildly through his veins. ‘It is early yet. Eat if you’re hungry and bathe if you wish. I must see to Edan, but I will meet you in the great hall to escort you to the village.’

  She nodded.

  William escaped the chamber before he gave in to the need to make her his prisoner, a captive of his fierce passion and desire.

  But he knew she wasn’t the only one in danger of being enslaved.

  Chapter 23

  SAINT Jude, save her. She was in love with William Kirkpatrick.

  Toppling onto her back, she clutched the coverlet tightly over her naked chest and squeezed her eyes shut. God and heaven’s angels. She was in love.

  She was in trouble.

  How could she have been so unaware of her feelings? Had she truly not known she was falling in love when her skin tingled at the sound of his voice? When her heart had fluttered on seeing him? When she’d craved his touch and yearned to caress him?

  Only moments ago, she’d had to dig her fingers into the bedding surrounding her to stop from dragging William back onto the bed.

  Wicked. Sinful.

  Alive. In love.

  Wrenching free of the covers, she pushed herself upright. Her sigh echoed about the room.

  Lord above. What was she to do now?

  Climbing from the high bed, her toes curled as her feet touched the cool timbered floor. She winced at the stiffness in her limbs and the unfamiliar soreness between her legs.

  She peered at the tray of food and though it looked tempting, she decided to make use of the hot water first. Naked, feeling unusually daring, she tiptoed to the trunk behind the door and lifted the heavy lid. William’s scent drifted from the contents. Drawing a deep breath, she smiled. Within the trunk, she spied a pair of calf boots, several clay pots and the linen cloths she’d been searching for. After taking two cloths, she removed a stopper from one of the pots and took a few precious soap flakes before securing the jar and closing the chest.