Page 10 of Following Her Highland Journey (The White Witch’s Apprentices #2)

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" W here were you?" Isobel asked when Henry walked in to discuss with the other town guards about their duties for the day. She was standing there all ready to work in a clean dress with neat hair, but it was clear she'd had trouble sleeping. Guilt stabbed at Henry as the other men pretended to be busy with something else.

Henry walked forward and offered his hand, and after a moment, Isobel took it. He led her outside, away from prying ears. Nearby, they could see the hospital building where he had left Adair moments before, and the guilt twisted in his stomach more tightly. "Ye're upset."

"I was worried," she answered, and there was no bitterness to it. She sounded honest, though a little sad. "It isnae like ye tae disappear without a word. After what happened, I'd like tae at least ken where the two people I care about in the world are."

Henry nodded. He let go of her hand and clasped his own hands together. "Ye're right. I'm sorry. I was…" he paused, then realized that he had to tell the truth. Isobel deserved that from him. "I was with Adair."

He could see that perfect moment now, just an hour before, when they'd woken together. Adair had blushed a delightfully rosy pink, and looked just as bashful but smiley as he felt. They hadn't tried to talk about the night before, except a brief promise to continue their conversation later. And they would have to, of course. There was a lot that Henry had not yet told Adair, a lot he knew he had to. He just didn't even know where to begin.

Isobel nodded slowly. The sadness in her eyes remained, but she was not angry and did not seem surprised. Henry hated to see her sad like this, but he had promised since the first that he would never lie to her—and he never had.

"I thought ye might have been with her. She's a wonderful lass. Saved me Finn's life. I can see why ye're so taken with her."

"Izzy…"

But Isobel shook her head. "Och, we've never pretended with each other, Henry. If ye want me tae be jealous, well, ye willnae find that here, not with me. But please, I implore ye as yer friend and as yer…well, as the woman who is by yer side. Dinnae get caught up in faerie stories. We've both seen too much tae believe that life is a song, filled with love and romance, when ye ken the real world and yer real duties are before ye."

She was right in some ways, and Henry knew it, but it filled him with a new kind of sorrow that had nothing to do with his own complicated situation. "I will never forget what I owe ye or what ye mean tae me, Isobel. I gave ye me word on that, and I have nae intention of takin' it back."

Isobel shrugged. "Intention is one thing. It's what ye do that matters." She shook her head and reached up to touch his cheek. "Ye're a good man, Henry. The kind of man a woman like me dreams of havin' all her life. And I'm a good woman, I think."

"Ye are." He meant it, but he knew it wouldn't be enough.

"And so?" Isobel prompted. She searched his eyes, but it was clear from her expression that she was disappointed by what she found there. "Whatever ye do, please dinnae forget the important things in this world. That's all I ask, as someone who cares for ye."

Henry didn't know how to reply. His whole self was in turmoil, and though he wanted to reassure Isobel that nothing had changed since yesterday, all he could see when he blinked was Adair's smile. A ghost who had returned to him when he'd thought she never would. A break in the grey clouds that he'd thought would be his life forever.

Isobel smiled sadly and said, "I must return tae Finn." And then, without another word, she headed off in the direction of the hospital.

Henry watched her go, then shook his head to clear it before returning to the guards inside. His friend, Michael, watched him closely as he approached.

"In trouble, are we?" Michael teased, but there was real concern beneath the layer of playful banter.

"I'm all right," Henry assured him. "I just need tae…think."

As they turned to examine their work for the day, Michael muttered, "Or maybe too much thinkin' is just goin' tae make this worse."

And Henry had to admit that might just be true.

Adair spent the day at work. The first priority was to check on young Finn, who, to Adair's relief, was doing much better than he had been the day before. She left his side before Isobel arrived, knowing that she would probably have to talk to the other woman soon, but not wanting to do it now, not while she could still hold on to the beautiful illusion that she and Henry had painted together. Waking up in his arms had been… indescribable, like finding something that had been missing from her heart so long that she'd forgotten how to feel until that moment.

They'd promised to continue their conversation later, and Adair had to believe that tonight he would tell her everything. She didn't have it in her to directly query Isobel about the nature of her and Henry's relationship, even if that would be the easier route. Not only would it be too much to bear if she heard the wrong answer, but it could embarrass Isobel as well. Regardless of their potential love rivalry, though, Adair was certain she did not want to do that. Isobel seemed like a nice, hardworking girl, the kind who deserved better than to be publicly confronted.

She tried to keep Henry off her mind as she worked, doing everything she could to keep herself distracted, but it proved impossible. Every time she glanced at Isobel across the room, she wondered about the full story. Every time she treated a soldier's wounds, she remembered how Henry had fought for her and wondered how bad his injuries had been. Every time she saw a couple holding hands or soothing each other through sickness or injury, she thought of the safety she'd felt sleeping in his arms.

Adair knew better than to let it interfere with her work, however. She wore a healer's face, smiling and laughing to cheer up children, showing compassion to the weak, offering reassurances whenever she could. She remembered Mor's first lesson had been to always focus on the task at hand, no matter what else was in your mind, and she did that admirably, making a little partition in her mind to separate off all thoughts of Henry so she could focus on each person who needed her.

This became a little harder a few hours into the day when Henry entered the hospital, relieving the guard on duty and taking over the post the same way he had the day before. Adair tried to avoid him, but she stole a glimpse whenever she could nonetheless, and more than once she caught him looking at her as well. Whenever they met eyes, she could not stop a secret smile from blossoming on her face and she saw a matching one on his each time before they both quickly looked away.

What would she say to him, she wondered, tonight when they were alone again? She'd ask him about Isobel, of course, but what else would she ask him? What else would she tell him? Would she describe to him how she'd dreamed of him for so long; would she tell him how she'd seen him in her sleep almost every night for the last five years? It hadn't all been nightmares. Was there any chance that the good dreams could ever be a reality?

Adair sighed to herself and shook her head. She was growing very tired now; she'd been working since sunrise with only a small pause to eat a hunk of bread and cheese. Though her work was rewarding, and certainly her patients seemed grateful, she was growing weary. Now, she made her way across the hospital room to where young Finn lay asleep.

Isobel looked up as she approached, a weary smile on her own face. "It's kind of ye tae help him."

Adair gently moved her aside and started to remove Finn's blanket and pull aside his clothing to check his wound. "It's me job tae help him. Dinnae worry about that."

"No, it isnae that." Isobel sounded thoughtful, not accusatory. "It isnae just a job tae ye. Finn is just one of many ye've helped in only two days, and God only kens how many ye've saved or treated in these past five years."

An image of poor Lily, buried forever in the monastery's garden, flashed in Adair's mind. Her hands shook a little as she worked and she said, "I havenae saved everyone."

"But ye would if ye could. Am I wrong?"

Adair paused in what she was doing and turned to Isobel. "Why are ye complimentin' me? If anythin', I thought ye would—I mean tae say, I?—"

"I'm complimentin' ye because ye deserve it." Isobel shrugged. "It's as simple as that. I ken there's a…complication in us kennin' each other, but it doesnae mean I dinnae recognise ye for what ye are—a good, kind woman and a fine healer."

Despite her surprise and tiredness, Adair found a slight smile creeping onto her face. "Ye…arenae what I expected ye tae be either."

Isobel shrugged. "It's fairly frustratin', really. I think both of us would have preferred it tae be as simple as hatin' each other, aye?"

Adair could tell that this was her chance. Isobel was offering her the opportunity to learn the truth. She could ask now exactly what Isobel and Henry's relationship was, question Isobel about how they felt, and maybe even wonder how often he'd talked about Adair herself over the years, if at all. The way that Isobel was looking at her, it was clear the other woman was expecting the questions.

Finn let out a low groan in his sleep, and Adair finished reapplying his bandage and placing the fever-herb under his tongue before she turned back to Isobel. "I must go. Other patients," she said.

Isobel smiled politely and nodded, though the seriousness was still obvious behind her eyes. But Adair had made up her mind: she did want those answers, but she would hear them from Henry first. He deserved that from her at least, and she hoped that he, in turn, believed she deserved the truth.

Work was almost over for the day and Adair's head and heart were filled with plans for how the conversation this evening would go, but all of that scattered to the wind when the door opened to the silhouette of two men. One of them was a man who Adair vaguely recognized as a guard here, while the other…

"Good God!" one of the other healers cried, and soon all three of them including Adair were hurrying to help.

The poor man had been injured so badly that his skin seemed more red than pale, his clothes torn, his arm hanging at an odd angle. They got him to the bed, and Adair tried to stem the rising panic in her chest as she was reminded of the last time someone had burst through the door for her help not so long ago.

Then a steadying hand lightly touched her on the back, helping quell the panic and bring her back to the task at hand. She glanced over her shoulder to see Henry's green eyes watching her with concern. "What do ye need from me?" he asked simply.

The next hour was a blur as they got the poor man to a place where he was in pain but well enough to talk. The man who had brought him in, who as it turns out was Henry's fellow escaped guard, Michael, said he'd found the fellow just outside the village boundaries on the road.

"Me name is Steven," the man explained when he was well enough to speak. He and Adair were alone now, the others moving off to their work when it was clear he was safe. "I'm a messenger for Laird and Lady McLeod."

Adair started. Lady McLeod? "Ye work for Lorcan and Caiside?"

The man seemed to relax at the obvious familiarity in her tone. "Aye, miss. I was rushin' tae get a message tae them when those accursed bandits attacked. They robbed me blind and took me bloody horse as well, poor creature."

"A message?"

Steven tried to sit up, then yelped in pain and allowed Adair to gently force him to lay down again. "Aye. It's about…McMillan. McMillan and McNair. They've formed an alliance."

His words were like a blast of icy air that chilled deep into Adair's soul. "That…that cannae be," she protested. "McMillan isnae kent for his good nature, aye, but he's got an agreement with Clan McLeod and we all ken it."

"Aye, well, it seems Laird McNair has somehow convinced McMillan that truce is null and void," Steven said darkly. "Have ye nae wondered why all this bloodshed, lass? It's a show of power as McNair marches on his true target with McMillan at his heels."

"His true target. Clan McLeod?" Adair asked, her horror growing with every second.

Steven nodded then winced again. "So ye see, it's a matter of life or death, lassie. I must be on me way. I need tae get word tae her ladyship and her husband before they're surprised. I cannae sit by and see them destroyed as these poor people were."

Adair shivered. Caiside had fought so hard for her happy ending. Adair could not allow what Caiside had to be snatched away by the same man who had already taken everything from Adair. Nonetheless, they had to be realistic. "Ye're goin' nowhere, sir," she told him firmly in her best imitation of Mor. "With those wounds, even if ye could get on a horse, which I doubt, ye'd fall off in a second. Yer stitches will burst and ye'll bleed out before anyone can get any message."

"I cannae just send a letter with anyone else," Steven argued, though it was clear he was struggling to get the words out. "I dinnae have any official document. Why would the laird and lady believe word of mouth from a stranger?"

"They may not, it's true. But it's likely they'd believe word from a friend." Adair set her mouth in determination and nodded. "I ken Caiside. We're friends. I will write her a letter and we'll get it tae her somehow, fast as we possibly can. Ye have me word."

The man squinted at her. "Why would ye do such a thing? Ye've healed me, and now ye've helped me. I've nae coin tae give ye, and…"

"Hush, now. Look around ye. Do ye think we're workin' here for coin ?" Adair demanded. "Ye say yer family is part of Clan McLeod. If ye ken Lady Caiside, ye ken she's a healer at heart. And if ye ken that, and ye ken that she's a friend, a sister tae me, then ye have yer answer, aye?"

Steven watched her for a long moment, then his mouth curled up into a pained smile. "Aye," he agreed. "I have me answer. Very well then, fetch a paper and somethin' tae write with. I'm gonnae trust ye with Caiside's life—and the lives of the clan as a whole."