Page 17 of Following Her Highland Journey (The White Witch’s Apprentices #2)

16

" G ood mornin', lad," Duncan said in a cheerful tone, and Adair gasped, bolting awake and hurrying toward them, pushing aside the makeshift tent and heading out toward the edge of the woods where the wagon waited. Sure enough, there was Henry, awake and alert, though looking considerably confused.

Adair covered her mouth with her hands, the relief almost too much for her to handle. She felt dizzy with excitement and, if she was honest, disbelief that they had gotten so lucky again. She'd treated Henry there and then, her fear of the storm disappearing in the face of Henry's bravery and the danger he was in.

With Duncan's help, they'd managed to get Henry onto the wagon and travel a short way until they found some woods. There, sheltered somewhat by the trees, they'd set up a tarp propped on some branches as a shelter for both Adair and Duncan, while they'd removed some of Duncan's merchandise to keep the patient warm and relatively dry in the wagons. The storm had continued through the whole day, but luckily Duncan had enough food and water in stock to mean they didn't have to move from their shelter as Adair treated Henry and they waited for him to awaken.

The whole day after the Serpent's death had been a blur, but now it was the next day. The storm was over, both literally and metaphorically, the sun shining now on the damp grounds of the Highlands.

"Adair," Henry breathed as soon as he saw her. "Ye're safe."

She moved closer and, when he held out his hand, helped him to his feet. The wound in his side was bad, but it would not do him harm to move around just a little. He certainly wouldn't be traveling by horseback any time soon, but he didn't need to know that right this second. Duncan had gone to fetch his horse after they were safe, bringing the fine creature to rest with the other two.

"I'm safe. And ye're alive," she told him. "Thank ye for following me." Smiling slightly, teasing, she added, "Even though I told ye that ye shouldnae."

Henry's eyes turned to Duncan, who was currently frying sausages over the campfire for breakfast. "Ye might have saved me life, Uncle. Thank ye."

Adair smiled. She found the respect Henry showed to older adults refreshing, gentlemanly without being performative, and she was glad that he'd chosen uncle rather than grandfather —she imagined that Duncan might have taken offense to the latter.

"Well, tae be fair, ye saved mine first," Duncan pointed out with a small laugh. "So we're even. That Serpent would have slaughtered me without a second thought."

Adair's smile faded. "He was a monster," she whispered. "A monstrous lapdog who needed tae be put down. Ye had nae choice. He murdered me father. Probably Michael, too. Who kens who else."

"Still. It's no small thing tae take a man's life." Henry sighed, looking obviously tired. "I have nae regrets. I just need tae accept that he was still a man, and that his blood is on me hands."

"And countless others saved. It was a price worth payin', lad," Duncan promised him. "Now. I'm just old man Duncan, but me lassie here tells me ye're the famous Henry. It seems the two of ye still have quite the story tae be written, aye?"

Adair smiled again, but she saw anguish in Henry's eyes. Confusion filled her — was he regretting coming after her? What was going on?

"I…I wish ye wouldnae speak so highly of me tae people, Adair. I dinnae deserve it," Henry said at last. He sat down on the ground next to the campfire, his knees up, staring at the ground. "Ye call McDonaghue a monster, and ye're right—but I'm nae better."

Duncan busied himself with serving breakfast, and Adair sat down next to Henry. She put a gentle hand on his arm.

"Ye're a bit stubborn sometimes. A bit indecisive, maybe," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "But a monster? Never."

But Henry was not cheered. He sighed and said, "I need tae tell ye me story. Me whole story. If we're tae continue…well, ye need tae ken it."

Duncan offered him a plate with a sausage and some bread upon it. "Luckily for ye, I trade in stories, lad," he said.

And so Henry began his tale.

"Ye already ken that me mother was the Laird's sister, and that me uncle had me father executed in retribution for her unwed pregnancy. Who kens what would have happened if they lived. I like tae believe that he would have wed her after I was born; I believe we would have fled and started a new life elsewhere. Who kens, as I say.

Ye ken that me grandfather raised me, and me uncle as well, the latter never with love but with at least basic respect, out of their affection for me mother. Well, maybe affection is too strong a word for what Brendan felt for his sister, but he kept his word tae her nonetheless. Me grandfather adored his daughter, which meant me life was good enough while he was alive, but things changed after he was killed. Before ye ask—aye, I believe Brendan killed his own father, or at least had the Serpent do it. It doesnae matter, though, not now.

I became one of his best soldiers. I was just nineteen when we met, fresh on the field, but—Adair, I cannae tell ye the guilt I feel. Yer father's death was terrible, truly, but the poor man was not the first we killed in cold blood. He wasnae even the last I witnessed being murdered by Laird McNair and his men.

Dinnae look at me like that, with such compassion. I remember each of them. Yer father. An old priest who objected tae me uncle's lairdship. A farmer who wouldnae give up enough of his grain tae the castle. A blacksmith who refused tae make the Laird a sword, and a baker who burned bread in a sign of subtle rebellion. Each of them murdered while I stood by and watched. Perhaps I could have intervened, perhaps I could have stopped it—but I didnae. I just watched, and they all died.

The day it changed—the day ye were captured—that was the day I kent it had gone too far. I went back after it was all over, after the flames had died down. Ye ken I got the animals out, and, well, I made sure yer father had a proper burial as well. It was less than he deserved, right there on the field, but it was all I could manage for him. That's why I asked for guard duty. I kent I had tae meet ye, tae face what I'd truly done. I never thought ye'd be, well, ye. That ye'd make me heart…

Anyway. I told ye how me friends helped me escape, but I didnae tell ye what happened next. We wandered for a long time, Michael and I, until I found them. Michael went ahead tae scout out the castle town and secured a job as I told ye, but we werenae sure it would be safe for me yet. And so, because they offered, I agreed tae stay with them instead.

"Them" was a family in the woods; a simple woodcutter, his wife, his parents-in-law, his son, and his sister-in-law. I'll never forget them and how kind they were to me. John and Susie were about fifteen years older than me, though their son was only eight or so at the time. They married later. Susie's parents, Debbie and Fergal, had another daughter much later, who was just a few years my senior, and she and I became fast friends. Isobel, of course."

John hired me tae help in the woods, and we worked together for a while. We were happy for about a month—until me uncle's men found me. They came in the middle of the day, when Isobel had taken wee Finn for a walk, thank God for that, else they'd be dead as well. And when I refused tae come with them, the Serpent slaughtered them all, one by one. Fergal and John tried tae fight back, but?—"

Henry's words broke off into a choked sob and his hands gripped his knees tightly. Adair's heart ached for him, and she leaned closer to him, offering herself as comfort.

"When Isobel came back…I couldnae explain me guilt. I had tae help her comfort Finn, and then I had tae get her somewhere safe. We buried her family that night, and we fled tae the castle town of Martin the next day. We've lived together ever since," Henry explained quietly.

Adair was crying too, though silently. It broke her heart to know that Isobel had gone through the same pain she had, but on a larger scale, losing almost her whole family at once. The same man had taken their homes, their families, and everything they loved away. How odd that they would be connected by tragedy as well as by the whims of the heart.

"Do ye love her?" she asked. She realized now that, though it would hurt if he said yes, she also couldn't be angry. How could she? Isobel deserved love as much as anyone else, perhaps even more so.

"Aye," Henry agreed without hesitation. "But not…not as I should. When I look at Isobel, I see the sister I never had, the family I always wanted. She takes care of me, and I take care of her, and that's how it has been these five long years."

Adair tried not to feel guilty at the rush of relief that flooded her veins at those words. "Does she love ye?" she pressed. She had to know.

"She wants me tae marry her. She thinks whether we love each other in this way or not is hardly relevant. I love her, and she loves me, and we care for each other. People talk, and we're growin' older. She longs for a bairn, ye ken," Henry explained. He sighed. "I think she…I think both of us had given up on the idea we'd ever find anythin' else."

They sat quietly with that for a moment, then Adair spoke again.

"Ye shouldnae feel so guilty. Ye saved me life back then, and ye showed me father respect when he would otherwise have gotten none," she told him. "And as for Isobel and Finn's family…ye've avenged them now. And they chose tae protect ye. Ye cannae take their sacrifice away from them, just like ye said with Michael."

Henry frowned, but she saw a flicker of hope in his eyes.

''And…Henry, ye cannae marry Isobel." She said the words all in a rush, making sure to get them out before she could talk herself out of it. "Ye cannae. If ye care for her, and I ken ye do, then ye must understand that nae woman wants tae be trapped in a loveless marriage. And ye cannae do that tae yerself either."

Henry shifted slightly to face her. " Loveless , ye say. Well, there would be love. Just not the kind from the storybooks."

"But why not seek a storybook love?" Adair argued. "If and when I marry, I will never allow meself tae feel like I settled for what was right. Caiside never did when she let herself love Lorcan. Me father never did when he wed a woman who loved the sea so much it one day took her from him."

Nodding, Henry added, "And me mother loved me father. I'm sure of it. Enough tae do things out of order only because she wanted so much tae be with him, and he with her, that they simply couldnae wait. Enough that both of them were willin' tae throw away all they'd kent before tae be with each other, even though they kent it might end tragically."

"Isobel is right that marriage should be a partnership where ye care for one another, but it's so much more than that as well." Adair shrugged. "When I think of the man I'll marry, the man I'll love, I picture one who's unafraid of all of who I am—of the darkness in me past, of the work I do as a healer, all of it. I see someone who'll protect me in the hard times and celebrate with me in the good times, who'll hold me when I need him and make sure I rest when I forget meself. When I marry, it will be for love, and for someone who makes me feel every bit of the love that I give him in turn."

Henry was watching her with a gaze so intense that she felt it might scald her. "Ye deserve that. That and more."

"And so does Isobel," Adair insisted, "And though ye care for her as a sister, ye can never be what I just described for her as a husband, even if ye try. And do ye really think she could be all of that for ye as a wife?"

"No." Henry's eyes flicked down, and Adair wondered if he was staring at her mouth. The thought made her skin tingle, and she bit her bottom lip in an unconscious response. Henry made a small sound, and his eyes flicked back up to Adair's. "No, I dinnae."

The way he was staring at her! It was too much, and yet she never wanted him to stop. She felt almost breathless as she said her next words. "And so? When ye picture that woman, that lass who'll be the wife of yer dreams, what do ye see?"

Maybe it was an answer, or maybe Henry just lost himself in the moment, but whatever the reason, he swooped forward and kissed her.

Adair's heart pounded in her chest as his lips met hers in a gentle caress, sending shivers down her spine and making her heart pump wildly. She melted into the kiss, her senses overwhelmed by the heady rush of emotion that threatened to overtake her. Was this happening? Could it be real?

The kiss started soft, a tender gentle press of affection, but as the seconds stretched and the intimate moment between them grew, the connection deepened, igniting a fire within her that she had never known so fiercely before this moment.

She felt his hands, one in her hair and one arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. She responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she lost herself in the intoxicating taste, sweeter than any mead. Every touch, every brush of his lips against hers, sent waves of desire crashing over her, stirring something primal and wild deep within her soul.

Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the storm as she surrendered herself completely to the moment. It was as if the world around them ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them lost with each other as their only anchors to life, love, and everything.

As their kiss grew more fervent, Adair knew with a certainty that defied explanation that this Henry was the one she'd dreamed of, the same Henry who had held her and saved her all those years before, the man she'd idly dreamed would be with her forever. Five years had not changed him, only strengthened him into something wild and new.

With each passing second, her emotions swelled, threatening to burst forth like a dam overflowing with pent-up longing and yearning. Part of her considered reaching for the ties on his shirt, but before she could let that slightly sordid thought go any further, a very forced cough interrupted them.

Henry pulled back instantly, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss, his eyes wide. He looked away, releasing her from his embrace, though not shoving her away. Adair, meanwhile, felt dizzy again, but this time in a way she wouldn't replace for the world.

"Sorry tae interrupt, lad and lassie, but I think ye may have forgotten ye had company," Duncan reminded them cheerfully. "We already lost a day yesterday thanks to all the excitement, we cannae wait around here much longer tae see what happens next."

Adair found herself giggling a little, and Henry's mouth quirked into a smile. "Ye're right," she said. "Sorry, Duncan. We'll get ready tae go now. The horses must be gettin' restless, as well."

Duncan chuckled. "Nae need for apologies, lassie. Far be it from an old man like me tae come between young love when I see it blossomin'. But that aside, we've a long way tae travel."

Henry got to his feet with a little difficulty. "We'll need tae go slowly," he said. "I am nae sure I'll make it all the way tae Clan McLeod on horseback in me current state."

"Ye willnae," Adair told him firmly, now in healer mode, "Which is why ye'll be travelin' in the wagon."

Henry opened his mouth as if to protest, but Adair held up a hand.

"None of that," she warned him. "Ye'll be in the wagon and that's final. Duncan and I will ride, and yer horse can be tied with the others."

Duncan nodded. "A good plan. It will still take a bit longer than usual since the horses arenae used tae workin' together in such a way, but I'm sure we'll get it straightened out in nae time. I say we'll be there in a couple of days."

"Then we best get started." Adair got to her feet and brushed down her dress, putting all thoughts of kissing and everything else to the side. The Serpent was dead, Caiside was waiting, and it was time to get the job done once and for all.