Page 14 of Following Her Highland Journey (The White Witch’s Apprentices #2)

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P anic flared in Adair's breast as she ran back in the direction of the village, and it only heightened when she smelled new fires and the tang of blood the closer she approached. Picking up her pace, ignoring the tightness in her chest and the breathlessness she felt, she hurried the rest of the way back to Dalnaig.

Barbara stood there at the site of the graves where Adair had left her, but in such a short time—no more than an hour or two—everything had changed. The old woman's clothes were stained with fresh blood, and she had a quickly forming bruise on her face that stood out against her pale skin even in the darkness of night. Some of the freshly-dug graves had been overturned, and just beyond them, Adair could see new fires flaring in the already-ruined village.

And most importantly, there was no Henry.

Her eyes were stinging as she hurried to the old woman's side. "What happened? Barbara!"

"Looters," Barbara told her quietly. She sounded dazed, and Adair realized the woman had probably hit her head. Adair helped her sit down on the ground and began to examine her while Barbara continued to explain. "They arrived not long after ye left and tried tae take the little we had left. Fifteen men against a village full of invalids and dyin' folk."

Adair was silent for a moment while she finished her examination, then breathed out in relief. The wound was not bad; she could give Barbara a tincture and she would heal quickly. Then the rest of the words filtered in, and her stomach clenched again. "Where is Henry?"

Barbara glanced up at her with glassy eyes, though they focused a little more as she answered. "He was a wonder. He fought them off one by one, almost single-handed, as soon as he realized what was goin' on. Killed four of them and sent the rest off runnin'. Made them believe there were more defenders comin'."

"There are. The Laird is sending some soon, I ken it," Adair assured her, but her panic only grew. "Where is Henry? Is he hurt? Is he?—?"

Barbara held up a hand, and Adair helped her to her feet once more. "He's near…I sent him tae rest. He's alive, lass, but he's fair sliced up."

Adair took a breath, tremulous at the thought of what she would find, and nodded. "Come on," she said. "Show me where he is, and let's get yer wounds seen tae as well."

As they slowly walked back into the village, the fear in Adair's stomach only grew. Whatever Henry's physical wounds, she could help him to heal, she knew that. But how would he recover when she told him what she'd found? She could bandage a wound, but she wasn't sure if she'd even be able to cover the pain in his heart when she told him his friend was gone forever.

After she'd dealt with Barbara's needs, she found Henry. He did need treatment, but thankfully, his damage was not as bad as it could be. He even grinned as she walked in and made a little joke. "I told ye that leavin' was dangerous."

Adair laughed slightly, though she was glad that he probably couldn't see that she was already crying in the flickering candlelight she had to work with. She sat by his side and began meticulously examining his wounds, cleaning and treating as she went.

"Somethin's wrong," Henry said after a long time of silence. "Somethin' other than ye bein' angry about Isobel."

The starkness of how he said it was shocking, but in the face of what she'd discovered, Adair barely noticed. She sniffed, paying attention to cleaning a slice on his arm, and said, "Henry, I have bad news."

His muscles tensed under his arm. "Are ye hurt? Are ye…what's wrong?"

There was no easy way to say it, and so Adair knew she just had to get it out. "I…I…I found a body. On the road. I found…Henry, I found Michael."

Henry went still, his silence suddenly seeming very loud.

"He…they attacked him. Killed him on the road. I found his body in the bushes," Adair whispered. "I'm so, so sorry. I dinnae…I cannae even…"

When Henry spoke again, it was in a tiny, broken voice that Adair had never heard from him before, and she felt her heart shatter to pieces. "Michael's dead?"

She desperately wanted to take it back, but he needed to know the truth. "Aye. I'm sorry. He was long gone when I found him. There was nothin' I could do."

There were no sounds, no words between them for a long time after that. Adair kept working on his injuries, not pushing him to talk. When she was done, she sat there, not moving, waiting, barely breathing.

"Izzy will be devastated," Henry said quietly. "Finn, too. He was a good friend tae all of us, not just me."

Adair swallowed, feeling a chill fall over her. His mind had gone so quickly to Isobel—what did that mean? And was she a monster for wondering about such a thing right now? Maybe. But she felt cold, afraid, and so much on the outside. She hadn't known Michael. She didn't know the life and loves and hopes and dreams that Henry had lived these last five years. Could it be that there was just too much now in both of their lives to bring them together?

And how could she help him with this new kind of pain, when she barely knew where they stood with one another?

"I'm so sorry," was all she could think of to say. And she was. Michael had seemed a good man, and there was no denying that Henry was in agony at the loss right now. "I…he was delivering a note for me, I…"

Henry shook his head, tried to sit up, then winced and lay back down. "Michael kent the risks. We all did. He didnae deserve tae die like this, but he wouldnae want us dishonorin' his sacrifice by takin' blame onto ourselves. Were ye perhaps able tae get the letter? I can take it. Finish what he started."

Adair shook her head. She wouldn't even entertain the thought of Henry going alone, even though his wounds would be well enough for him to move by morning. "It wasnae there. They took it. I…I dinnae ken exactly what that means, but I ken it cannae be good."

Henry nodded at that. "Ye're right." Indecision crossed his features for a moment. "Michael…God, I cannae believe he's gone. Maybe we should go back tae the castle town. The new Laird will have his men here by tomorrow or the next day, I'm sure of it, but if there's any chance McNair's men found our letter…Isobel and Finn could be in danger."

Isobel again. Well, that made the next part easier for Adair, at least. "Ye're right. Ye should head back. Make sure Laird Martin kens what's goin' on, and that yer loved ones are safe."

She'd tried to be subtle, but he obviously caught that she'd spoken in second person, not referring to them both but him alone. He raised an eyebrow, frowning deeply at her. " We should head back," he corrected.

"No. I cannae…there's no turnin' back for me, not now. Caiside must get this message, must be made tae understand the danger that she and her clan are in. One man almost died tryin' tae deliver the words, and another actually did lose his life. A good man. Ye said it yerself, Henry, we cannae dishonor Michael's sacrifice. I cannae." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I will go on tae Caiside's clan—alone. Clan McLeod will ken me and welcome me, and I will be the one tae warn them of this threat."

Even with her own eyes closed, she could feel Henry's gaze boring into her, and she wondered what was going through his mind. She didn't open her eyes yet; she didn't want to look at him because she was scared of what she might see there. Would it be worse for her if he objected, or if he didn't?

"Ye ken there's nae way in heaven or hell or anywhere in between that I'm lettin' ye do such a stupid thing all on yer own, aye?" Henry asked quietly.

Adair's eyes snapped open to see him staring at her with true earnestness in his gaze.

"Ye cannae stop me. I must go. Caiside?—"

"Stop ye! I could nae sooner stop the course of the Spey with me bare hands than stop ye when ye've an idea in yer head. I had nae intention of even tryin'. But if ye think ye're goin' alone, well, then, ye must be a sight more daft than ye seem." Henry moved himself into a sitting position, and this time he only flinched a little; already his body was bouncing back from the beating, thanks to Adair's work and his own natural resilience. "We'll leave at first light."

"We'll do no such thing." Adair wasn't entirely surprised at his suggestion, which only meant that she'd been ready to reject it. She had to draw the metaphorical line in the sand here and now to prevent this from going any further than it already had. "Ye were right that ye may be needed back at the castle town, and perhaps by the Laird's side. We each have our own lives, Henry, and our own work tae do, and?—"

"Ye think if I let ye go and somethin' happened tae ye, I'd survive that? Kennin' I could have been there tae help ye?" Henry interrupted again, a thrumming intensity in his voice that made Adair shiver. "Ye think I could ever forgive meself, seein' ye again after five long years, only tae let ye go and die in the dark?"

Her heart caught in her throat, and she shook her head. "It…it's me own choice. Ye have nothin' tae feel guilty about either way. And in any case, ye didnae even ken I was still alive until a few days ago. Let me go, it'll be like nothin' ever changed."

" Everythin' changed." He reached out and grasped her hand, and Adair didn't try to pull away. When he gently tugged, she acquiesced, sitting down lightly on the side of his bed. "Ye understand that, aye? I spent every night of the past five years dreamin' of the day I'd find ye again. Every night battlin' with meself over what I could have done differently tae make sure ye were safe, tae make sure I would see ye again. And then, like a gift from God himself, ye appear in me life once more. Ye think I'm tae let ye head off tae yer death like nothin' changed ?"

Adair felt her hands tremble, and Henry's grip on her tightened reassuringly. She longed to lean into him and accept the comfort, but she stayed where she was, perched precariously next to him without crossing that final boundary and falling into his arms.

"Dreams are dreams," she whispered. Then, more clearly, she spoke again. "I am not goin' on a mission of suicide, Henry. I will travel tae Clan McLeod and I will survive long enough tae get the message tae me friend. Tae think otherwise is tae underestimate me."

"I'd never underestimate ye."

Adair sighed. She could see that this conversation would soon be going around in circles, and she wasn't sure if she had the energy to handle that. Tonight had been a lot, and there were still several hours to go before dawn. "I should go and check on the others."

"No. Please dinnae just drop this. I want tae ken we're on the same page of the same book here, Adair." He sounded almost nervous, distracted and worried. "Tell me ye're not goin' tae set off alone."

Frustrated, Adair exclaimed, "How can ye ask this of me? Henry! Please just drop it. Ye'll do as ye must, and I'll do as I must. Perhaps afterward we'll find each other again—but perhaps not. Five years is a long, long time."

Henry said nothing to that, and indeed he was quiet for so long that Adair made to stand up and move away. She felt a whole barrage of emotions, so many that she couldn't even begin to process them properly. Frustration, yes, and fear was there too. Sorrow for the loss of Michael and the poor injured and dead people of this village and the rest of the clan. Anger that she felt torn about what to do next.

"Adair…stay with me," Henry whispered. "Not forever. Just tonight. I…I fear I willnae be able tae sleep alone."

The words were so raw, so vulnerable and unexpected from a man like Henry, that they almost knocked the air from Adair's lungs. She didn't know how to react for a moment, but she knew that she couldn't deny him such an honest and open request. Besides, she didn't have the strength to say no. She longed to lay by his side and hold him and be held by him.

"All right," she said very quietly. She sat down beside him on the bed, very precariously at first, but then as he reached for her, she sank down onto the bed and turned to face him. He was watching her with wide, uncertain eyes, and she could see it there—the pain from his friend's loss, mixed with so much more. A storm brewed in his gaze, and Adair saw her own tumult reflected back within him.

Without speaking, she raised her hand very delicately to touch his cheek. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath at her touch, and his arm reached out and wrapped around her waist, tugging her slightly closer. She went willingly, pressing herself gently against him, enjoying the embrace.

"Ye're so special tae me, Adair," Henry told her hoarsely. "Ye were right that five years is a long time. A lifetime, in some ways, for both of us. But when I'm with ye, I feel…I feel the same way I did back then. Ye make my world seem different just by bein' in it."

Adair swallowed. There was a hard lump in her throat and a burning in her eyes. She longed to reach over and press her lips against his, longed to close that gap between them at long last. But she wouldn't and couldn't. The image of sweet, kind Isobel swam into her mind, and the confusion roared up like a monster in her heart.

Henry looked for a moment like he might kiss her anyway, but he simply gave her a small, sad smile. "Will ye tell me a story? Like we did back in the day?"

"Ye were the one who told the stories," Adair reminded him softly. "I'm not sure I'd be any good at it."

"Aye, but ye've lived lifetimes since then. Tell me about yer friends and yer mistress at the monastery. Tell me about the people ye've helped. Tell me how ye live, Adair."

And so she did. She spoke to him of her sisters at the monastery and all they'd been through together, both the big things and the small. She told him about how she would make poor knights of Windsor when they had the eggs and milk to spare, and how it always got a spirited discussion going about toppings. This made Henry laugh, which made her smile in turn. She didn't tell him how he'd been with her all these years, a ghostly voice in her mind. Things were already confusing enough for them both without adding that to the mix as well. She diverted course, launching into another tale.

"Once, Fia decided she was deeply in love with a lad who was brought tae us in a bad shape. We only got a glance of his rich, exotic clothes and his darker skin, but his face was covered with masses of dark hair. Lord, the lassies could be fanciful!" She laughed a bit and added, "As can I, I suppose. He was taken straight tae Mor with Vanora tae aid her, and the rest of us spent our time guessin' at his story. We spun an elaborate tale about how he was a prince from a foreign land, spirited tae us by Mor's magic."

Henry chuckled, the movement pressing their bodies closer together. "And was he?"

"Of course not! We kent we were bein' silly, but Fia, well, she decided he'd come tae wed her. She was jokin', of course, but she kept it up for days , tellin' us how she'd shortly be leavin' tae be the princess of a foreign land."

"And so? What happened?"

Adair smiled at the memory, giggling a little too. "Well, 'he' finally was well enough tae join us for dinner on the fourth day—and 'he' was a woman! She'd been travelin' with her employer, a rich woman from the northern kingdom of Sweden, by way of her homeland in faraway Egypt. They'd been travelin' through Scotland on their way back tae the employer's home when the lass took unwell."

Henry sounded very surprised. "No! Is that true?"

"Every word!" Adair promised. "The Swedish woman came tae collect the lass—her name was Aya—a few days later. And forevermore, we teased Fia about her lady wife."

They both had a good laugh about the story, and Adair went on to tell another, and another.

When Henry at last fell asleep, she lay there in his arms, warm and comfortable, and knew that she could happily stay here with him forever.

And that—that was a problem. Because there was no forever, not with Henry, not now. Even if she gave in to the desires of her heart and body and soul, the specter of Isobel would still be there between them, and it seemed to her that Henry was in no rush to explain himself or to commit to exactly what was going on.

Despite everything else, Adair knew that she could not live that way. For that reason, after about an hour had passed, she carefully wriggled out of Henry's arms. She found Barbara dozing nearby and woke the woman, giving her instructions for self-care and care of the others and supplying her with ingredients for remedies, then said her farewells.

There were only a few hours left until the sun rose, which meant that Adair had no time to waste. By the time dawn broke, she had to be as far from Dalnaig as possible, leaving the past behind her forever.