Under the Highlander's Spell

by Donna Fletcher

  Together they lay still, wrapped around each other, waiting for their breathing to ease, until Artair finally rolled off, taking Zia with him to rest against his side.

  She rested her hand on his chest and he placed his over hers.

  “You do have passion,” she said.

  “Another good reason to wed me,” he teased.

  “You should show your passion more often.”

  He laughed. “That would get us in a lot of trouble. We’d forever be making love.”

  She tried to poke him, but he kept hold of her hand. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “My passion rears its head when necessary,” he teased, giving her a poke of his own.

  “And it’s a large head at that,” she retaliated.

  He laughed heartily. “You are not the woman I expected—”

  He stopped, about to say, You are not the woman I expected to fall in love with, catching himself just in time. He didn’t think she would appreciate a declaration of love at that moment. She would think that he said it only to please her, which would not be the truth.

  She poked him again, bringing him out of his musing. “Finish what you intended to say.”

  He took hold of her hand. “You are not the woman I expected in bed.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Making love seems to come natural to you. You are comfortable with it and enjoy it, yet you have never been with another man.”

  “Being a healer teaches you much, and having a grandmother who will discuss anything with you is a great benefit. I’ve learned that most women feel that bedding their husband is a duty, and they are the ones with the most complaints, whereas the women who enjoy coupling have far fewer complaints.” She chuckled. “But far more children.”

  “So you decided to enjoy?”

  “I did, though my grandmother warned me that the right man was necessary for me to get any enjoyment out of it.”

  Artair thumped his chest. “I’m the right man.”

  “Then I must be the right woman.”

  “No, you are the perfect woman, absolutely perfect in every way,” he said, turning and raining kisses over her face. “I love every inch of you.”

  She stiffened, and he could have kicked himself. Why did he have to mention love at this moment?

  “You love the act of making love, not me.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was asking or telling him, and he didn’t want to get caught in a trap that would only make the situation worse. But he also couldn’t agree with her, since it was far from the truth.

  “Let’s leave that discussion for another day,” he said. She looked ready to argue, and he pressed his finger to her lips. “Please, this one time just agree with me.”

  To his relief, she grinned. “Just this one time.”

  “I never get another reprieve, ever?” he asked, feigning shock.

  “Only time will tell,” she teased, and yawned wide and long.

  “You need sleep,” he said, and kissed the tip of her nose. “And you can encroach on my side of the bed all you want.”

  “I just might take up all of it if you’re not careful.”

  “Then I won’t be careful, for I want you in my arms, on my side of the bed, snuggled tight against me every night.”

  “Just remember you asked for it,” she said with a laugh.

  He cuddled her in his arms, and her eyes closed and her light snore followed. He smiled, content, for there was no way he would let this woman get away from him.

  It seemed he’d hardly closed his eyes when he heard a pounding at the door. Within five minutes, Zia was up and out of bed, on her way to deliver a babe. He insisted on going with her, but she advised him against it. He could do nothing to help her. He would just wait around while he could be sleeping.

  She kissed him before he could get out of bed, told him to keep it warm for her, and then was gone.

  He intended to get up and follow her, despite what she’d told him, but continued to lay there, the scent of their lovemaking ripe on the bedding. The fresh memories had him smiling. Content and satisfied, he fell fast asleep.

  The babe arrived with the first light of dawn, wailing his face red, the startling color matching the thatch of bright red hair on the top of his head. It hadn’t been a difficult birth, which Zia always gave thanks for, and since it was Teresa’s second child, labor was shorter, though not less painful.

  Zia had mother and child cleaned up in no time, and while the babe slept quietly in his mother’s arms, she prepared a brew and some food for Teresa. The brew would help soothe her, and the food help strengthen her.

  “I wondered after the birth of my first son why I would ever put myself through the pain of another,” Teresa said, her full cheeks red from exertion and her brown eyes sparkling with joy. “But when I hold my babe in my arms, I have the answer. You’ll know the feeling soon enough, having that strong, handsome husband of yours.”

  Zia’s eyes rounded like full moons and she dropped the spoon she held, startled. There was a chance now that she could be with child, and while it shocked her, it also warmed her.

  “I’m sorry,” Teresa said. “I should not have been so bold—”

  “Nonsense,” Zia said, and hurried to put the woman at ease. “You just startled me, making me realize that after delivering so many babes, I could very well be having one of my own.” She winked. “And my husband is handsome.”

  Her own admission startled her, for she had always been careful never to refer to Artair as her husband, but it seemed to spill from her lips so naturally.

  Teresa giggled. “All the women think Artair handsome. Lachlan thinks he’s the handsomest brother, but the women all know it is Artair. And you’re the lucky woman who won his heart.”

  Zia nodded, and was relieved that Teresa asked to see her husband, in order to show him that she had delivered him another fine, strapping son. She didn’t wish to discuss Artair any further; she had enough on her mind already. So she was only too happy to oblige, and after making certain mother, father, and babe were settled, she gathered her things and left.

  “You must be exhausted.”

  She jumped, not expecting Artair to be outside waiting for her. “You haven’t been here all night have you?”

  “You worry about me when you look ready to drop?” he asked, walking over and taking her basket. “And no, I’ve only arrived. I slept the night through.”

  “Wore you out, did I?”

  He laughed. “Proud of yourself?”

  “Very,” she said cheerfully. And she was; she was happy they had made love, and though it complicated the situation, it was worth it.

  He leaned down and pecked her cheek. “I’m proud of you too.”

  She kissed him back, though she planted it on his lips. “I’m starving.”

  “Here I thought you were about to tell me how proud you are of me, and instead you tell me you’re hungry.”

  “You didn’t bother to ask what my hunger was for.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Lord, am I glad I found you.”

  “Then you don’t mind if it’s food I want first?”

  “Food first and then sleep,” he said with concern. “You must be exhausted, and I’d prefer you full of vigor when you come to bed tonight.”

  “We have to wait until tonight to couple again?” she asked, disappointed, for her body was already tingling for him.

  “After you rest—”

  “Before I rest,” she argued.

  “You’re too tired,” he insisted.

  “That’s for me to decide.”

  They squabbled back and forth all the way to the keep, and just as they reached the steps, Zia said, “I should have known your passion was confined to the bedchamber.”

  He shook his head, scooped her up, and flinging her over his shoulder, swatted her backside. “And your passion knows no boundaries.”

  Chapter 22

  Artair plopped Zia down on the bench at the
table before the hearth, where his family was gathered. She looked ready to give him a good tongue-lashing, but instead clamped her lips tight.

  He slipped in along the bench beside her with a smile. “Zia couldn’t wait to join the family for the morning meal.”

  “Yup, it sure looked like she came willingly,” Lachlan said with a smug grin.

  “You look exhausted,” Honora said to Zia with concern, then eagerly asked, “How is the new babe?”

  “He is a strapping babe with a generous wail and a thatch of bright red hair like his father’s,” Zia said.

  Honora smiled with glee. “I cannot wait for our babe to be born. I know he will be as handsome as Cavan.”

  “Better he be as handsome as his uncle,” Lachlan said, thumping his chest.

  “He should look like his father, for then he will also resemble his grandfather,” Addie said, sounding melancholy.

  Everyone turned silent, though nods circled the table.

  Addie broke the silence. “It will be good to have a little one around here again. I cannot wait.”

  “And more little ones should follow soon,” Lachlan said, raising his tankard at Artair.

  “When do you do your share in seeing our family grow?” Artair raised his own tankard in challenge while considering the idea. He had always wanted a large family, and after last night there was now a possibility.

  Lachlan laughed. “You and Cavan can see to that for now.”

  “Coward,” Cavan accused with a grin.

  “Wise,” Lachlan corrected.

  “Be careful, Lachlan,” Artair joined in. “Fools are made to suffer.”

  “Then I have no worry,” Lachlan chortled.

  “Lachlan will do well finding a wife,” Zia said, breaking off a piece of bread from the freshly baked loaf on the table.

  “Why?” Artair and Cavan asked in unison.

  Zia answered quickly. “Because he is attentive and passionate with women.”

  Lachlan grinned from ear to ear. “Oh dear, sister I love you. You know me so well.”

  Artair and Cavan disagreed with protests.

  “Zia’s right,” Honora agreed. “Lachlan does know women.”

  Cavan’s head snapped around to his wife. “I know women.”

  “Oh do you now?” Honora said curtly.

  “I did know women,” Cavan tried to correct.

  “So you don’t know me?” Honora asked sharply.

  Cavan hurried to explain. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?” Lachlan asked with a smirk.

  “Shall we kill him now?” Artair offered.

  “You can both try,” Lachlan laughed.

  “This is my fault,” Zia said. “Please don’t fight on my account.”

  “Dear, this has nothing to do with you,” Addie said, patting her arm. “They’re men; they can’t help it.”

  “That’s right,” the three brothers declared simultaneously.

  The women burst out laughing.

  Artair loved family, and he loved that Zia now shared it with him and that they would seed the family and watch it grow. Of course, he had to get her to marry him first, but he didn’t think that would be a problem, not after last night. In a way, they had actually committed to each other by making love. The only thing left was to exchange vows.

  Zia yawned, and Artair slipped his arm around her. She instinctively rested her head on his shoulder, reminding him that she needed sleep. He intended to see that she got it.

  Cavan helped his cause. “You need to rest, Zia.”

  “She’s going to bed right now,” Artair said.

  Just as Artair stood, one of Cavan’s warriors burst into the hall.

  “The village Hosack is under attack from marauders,” the man announced.

  The men immediately got to their feet, and Artair looked to his mother. “Please see that she rests.”

  “I’ll look after her,” Addie promised.

  Artair leaned over and captured Zia’s mouth with a kiss. “Promise me you’ll sleep. There may be wounded who will need your help.”

  Her eyes popped wide. “I’m going with you.”

  He held her down firmly, his hand to her shoulder. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  “What of the wounded villagers? Who will heal them?” she demanded.

  “She has a point,” Lachlan said.

  “No one asked you,” Artair said, annoyed with his brother for taking Zia’s side.

  “There’s no time to argue,” Cavan said with the distinct voice of a leader. “The wounded will be brought here if necessary.”

  Artair almost breathed a sigh of relief, though never got the chance. Zia broke loose of his grip and stood.

  “And your wounded warriors?” she asked sharply, and then didn’t let Cavan answer. “My presence could mean life or death for them.”

  Artair knew that settled it, for his brother would do whatever benefited his men.

  “Get your things,” Cavan ordered, “but remember, you are to obey my every order—my order, no other.”

  Artair knew that was meant for him, and he knew what Cavan intended to say next.

  “Don’t even think of designating me to remain behind. My wife goes, I go,” Artair said firmly. “It’s Lachlan’s turn to stay and protect this time.”

  To his relief, Lachlan agreed. “Artair’s right. I’ll stay.”

  Addie stood. “We’ll prepare to feed and help the wounded.”

  Honora kissed her husband. “I will help Addie, and don’t try to tell me not to. And make certain you come back to me, husband.”

  Cavan hugged her. “Always, wife.”

  Artair envied them, Honora remaining at the keep safe while Zia would be amidst the mayhem and danger of battle.

  When all the warriors were mounted and ready to leave, Cavan rode up to Artair. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

  “My wife gets hurt and I’ll kick your ass.”

  Cavan smiled. “Keep that angry thought in mind while in battle.”

  Zia didn’t think or feel. She was too busy to do either. Cavan had designated a safe spot for her to remain until the battle was over, but the screams and cries of agony made that impossible. She knew if she could get to the injured sooner rather than later, they would have a chance of surviving.

  Artair had given her only one warning.

  “Do as you’re told.”

  She wanted to obey both men, but she was a healer before anything and had to follow her own instincts. It was what kept people alive. So she found a secluded area closer to the battle and fashioned a spot to care for the injured that she might manage to get there.

  Her first rescue was a mother and daughter. The young woman was stumbling, the child held tight in her arms, trying to get away from the carnage. Blood dripped down her face, her eyes rounded in fright, and she couldn’t gain solid footing. Zia couldn’t see if the child was hurt, but she didn’t waste time. She looked around, feeling safely for the dirk she had tucked into her boot in case she needed to defend herself, and rushed out to hurry the woman into the surrounding woods and to safety.

  It took only a few minutes to ascertain that the woman had suffered a minor abrasion and was more stunned from her ordeal than anything else. Her child, thankfully, was fine, and when she finished ministering to both of them, she left them safely tucked behind a boulder and went in search of others who were injured.

  By her fourth trip bringing injured villagers to the safe spot, she had a group of helping hands, all women. One woman began helping her rescue the injured, while two others stood guard with swords, and one with a bow, in case of attack.

  Only two of the injuries were serious, though Zia didn’t believe they were life threatening. However, she had seen a badly injured warrior who would certainly die if not given immediate attention.

  Neddie, the woman helping her rescue the injured, joined her to help the fallen warrior. They waited on the edge of the woods, the warrio
r not far from them, blood oozing from his chest, his moans audible even above the noise of battle.

  “As soon as an opening occurs, we go,” Zia ordered.

  Neddie nodded, set to move.

  Within minutes a lull in the battle and an opening on the field enabled the two women to rush out. They had pulled the warrior to the edge of the woods when a marauder appeared on horseback, grabbed a fistful of Zia’s hair and tried to drag her along the ground. But with her hair short, and with her ripping at his hand as he tried to keep his grip, he finally let go.

  She scrambled to her feet and ran for cover, but he descended on her with surprising speed. Realizing she wouldn’t make it to the woods, she stopped and reached down to her boot for the dirk. She turned in time to see Artair descend on the man. With one blow of his sword, he knocked the marauder from his horse. The man was dead when hit the ground.

  “Do as you were told!” Artair screamed.

  Zia looked at him wide-eyed, and threw the dirk. It flew past a startled Artair and settled in the chest of another marauder, who’d come up behind him and had been about to end his life. She froze for only a moment, to see if she’d killed the man.

  “Go! Now!” Artair screamed at her.

  She obeyed instantly, joining Neddie, who had gotten the wounded warrior into the woods. Between the two of them, they moved him to safety. Then Zia went to work on him as Neddie continued to prowl the edge of the battlefield, looking to rescue villagers and warriors as best she could on her own.

  When the battle ended, the warriors chased off those who had been wounded but were able to walk.

  Within minutes Artair and Cavan descended on Zia.

  She abruptly raised her hand at them. “You can berate me later. Right now this man needs me or he will die.”

  “There are other wounded warriors,” Cavan said.

  “Any who need immediate attention?” Zia asked while continuing to work on the man.

  Artair answered. “James.”

  With a swift turn of her head, her worried glance fell on him. “How bad?”

  “His arm looks near severed,” Artair answered.