Page 17 of The Cruel Highlander’s Healer (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #1)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

C onall readied himself for the woman to swing at him. He straightened his shoulders, preparing himself to topple the older woman screaming like a banshee as she rushed at them.

She was getting closer, her eyes fixed on Conall. He raised his hands, preparing himself to knock her back the moment she reached him.

But the moment she did, she moved past him. Her lithe arms swept out, moving him to the side as she rushed toward Eliza.

He reached out, his hand clasping at air as he made to grab her bicep. But she was quicker than expected. His eyes landed on Eliza, expecting to see her readying herself for a fight.

But what he actually saw stole the breath from him entirely.

She was reaching her arms out to the woman, she spread herself wide as she clutched her into an embrace. Eliza’s brown eyes were wide with shock as the woman clung to her, her petite shoulders shaking.

Conall stared at the scene in confusion, his mind working to make sense of everything he was witnessing. Eliza’s eyes locked on his, her mouth moving as she mouthed out a word.

He tried to repeat its movements and make sense of what she was trying to tell him without sound. But he couldn’t.

Conall shook his head, an indication that he couldn’t figure out what she was saying.

She moved her mouth again, forming the word a little more slowly. This time, he understood.

“Marissa.”

That woman hugging her was the Witch of the Wood.

“What are ye doin’ here?” Eliza asked, her astonishment leeching into every syllable.

“What am I doin’ here?” Marissa screeched.

She stepped back, holding Eliza at arm’s length as her eyes swept over her.

“What are ye doin’ here?” the Witch of the Wood continued. “Where have ye been? Imagine my surprise, returnin’ home to find the place a mess. The dishes still in the sink, nae dried, nae put away. The door left hangin’ wide open. I thought for sure someone had stolen ye away!”

Conall shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Eliza’s eyes flicked to him as if of their own accord. Marissa’s posture went rigid, and slowly, she turned to face him.

Grey eyes landed directly on him and the woman stepped to the side, her gaze flickering between Eliza to Conall and then back again. He could almost see the thoughts warring in the woman’s mind as she tried to figure out what was going on.

“Marissa,” Eliza said delicately, moving so that she could position herself between Conall and her adopted mother. “This is Laird Conall Shaw of MacKinnon. He came to the house and he…”

She paused, her cheeks flushing. For a moment, Conall thought for sure that she was going to tell Marissa everything. What would the old woman do?

His eyes flicked down to her hands, noting her sharp fingernails that looked suspiciously like claws. There was no doubt in Conall’s mind that he could overpower her if it came to it. She was rather small, after all.

But he didn’t want to. He did not make a habit out of rough housing with petite older women.

“He asked for my help,” Eliza finished in a rush, seeming to decide against telling Marissa exactly what had happened. “The bairns of his land had fallen ill. And I got so caught up in it all that we left in a rush.”

Marissa narrowed her eyes. Conall wondered if she could sense the lie.

Her gaze continued to dart between the two of them. Tense seconds tick by, but eventually, Marissa nods.

“Ye should have left a note,” she said, whirling to glare at her daughter.

Eliza nodded, an apologetic expression fixing itself onto her lovely face.

“I ken,” she admitted. “I should have done a lot of things differently. And I’m sorry that I worried ye. It willnae happen again.”

Marissa huffed. “Ye make sure that it doesnae.”

Conall took that moment to step forward, addressing the Witch of the Wood directly.

“Eliza understood the urgency,” he said confidently, the woman’s grey eyes flicking to him. “The bairns of my lands, they would have died if it wasnae for her. We owe her quite a lot.”

“Where are the bairns?” she asked, her gaze flicking over his shoulder as if she might find the sick children just beyond the gardens.

“Back at the castle,” Eliza explained, stepping forward so that she was standing beside Conall.

“If they’re at the castle, what are ye doin’ here, in the village?” Marissa’s pale brows pulled together, and she cocked her head, studying her daughter.

Conall got the sense that Marissa knew she wasn’t getting the full story. But she seemed hell-bent on not interrogating her daughter too terribly. He had no doubt, though, that it would come later.

“The people here had fallen ill as well,” Eliza explained. “They have the same symptoms, and the councilman asked me to come. Laird MacKinnon graciously escorted me here so I could care for them.”

Marissa nodded, grey eyes sparking with interest at the sound that there were people here in need of healing.

“I’d like to see them.”

She didn’t pose it as a request, and she stared at Eliza expectantly. Conall cleared his throat.

“I’ll show ye to them.”

Marissa nodded, looping her arm through her daughters as the pair followed after Conall. He walked them back through the labyrinth like streets, cutting the familiar path back toward the town square.

It didn’t take long before the tops of the tents came into view. When they stepped into it, Isabel, Louisa, and Sheena were gone.

Many of the patients were still sitting up in their cots, but some had laid down to nap.

Marissa wasted no time as she rushed forward, making quick work of examining the closest man. Eliza stepped back, keeping close to Conall.

“Why did ye lie?” he whispered to her, keeping his voice low so there was no chance that Marissa would overhear.

“I dinnae lie,” Eliza argued, and he shot her a pointed look. “Alright, I did lie. But she dinnae need to ken that ye kidnapped me. Otherwise, she may flay ye alive. And then where would the bairns be?”

Conall nodded. “Well, thank ye for nae tellin’ her.”

Eliza’s response was cut off by Marissa’s return. The woman was marching up to them, her forceful presence immediately pervading the space.

“Arsenic,” she announced when she was within earshot, prompting Eliza to nod. “Ye made the tonic?”

Another nod from Eliza.

“Eliza is quite the healer,” Conall complimented, trying his best to keep his tone amicable.

Those grey eyes cut to him again, flashing.

“I ken, I’m the one that taught her.”

There was something about the woman before him that reminded him of a storm. She was quick as a flash of lightning, she could cut, she could destroy. But just like the rain she could heal; she could give life.

She, just like Eliza, was a force carved by God himself.

“We are grateful to her,” Conall continued to explain. “She’ll be stayin’ with us for a bit longer to tend to the patients, but then she’ll be comin’ home.”

“Ye’ll be stayin’ here another night?” Marissa asked expectantly. “So ye can watch after yer patients?”

A look of doubt crossed Eliza’s face. Conall had intended to ride out with her today, had delayed their leaving only so that he could show her the gardens. But it wasn’t hard to see that Marissa would think that leaving was a mistake.

“Aye,” Conall interjected, saving Eliza from having to make a decision on whether or not to lie to her mother again. “We’re stayin’ at the Thistlewood Inn tonight and will be headin’ back to the castle tomorrow mornin’. She was adamant that she stays to make sure everyone is healin’ as expected.”

Marissa nodded, clearly pleased with this answer.

“Have ye trained any of the locals?” she asked, prompting Eliza to nod.

“Aye,” she said quickly, her words coming out in an anxious rush. “Two women and a girl of near sixteen. They seem to be natural at it.”

Marissa paused, a thought clearly just occurring to her. She whirled on Conall.

“Why did ye seek out Eliza?” she hurled the question at him. “There are healers in other towns much closer than our hut. Why did ye come all that way for her?”

Conall’s mind whirled. He wasn’t sure why, but the approval of the woman before him seemed to matter quite a lot.

He knew he could say whatever he wanted, and she was a mere healer. She wouldn’t be able to question his authority or even demand that her daughter be brought back to their home.

But he didn’t want Eliza’s adopted mother to resent him.

So did he answer her with flattery? Did he tell her that he’d heard about how adept they were at healing and knew that if anyone could help the children of his lands, it was them?

Conall rejected the idea almost immediately. He had a feeling that Marissa was a woman who valued honesty. And he would not insult her intelligence by lying to her again, not when her daughter had already lied to her once.

“No other healer would help,” he answered honestly. “They dinnae think me people were worth helpin’.”

“Why would they think that?”

There was a glint in Marissa’s eyes, one which told him the old woman knew exactly why other healers would have rejected him. What he couldn’t tell, though, was whether or not she agreed with him.

“Because they’re me people,” he explained, leading with truth once again. “I am a laird; it is a title I hold with pride. I am fiercely protective of me lands and the people that live within them. And that fierceness has led to… sometimes violent consequences.”

Marissa stared at him, her grey eyes cool and unreadable. Her eyes swept from his boot to his brow, studying every single inch of him.

Suddenly, Conall was a lad again, his tutors admonishing him for getting his letters wrong. He was filled with the illogical urge to shrink away from the iron-forged woman before him.

I daenae shy away from crones. I daenae shy away from anyone.

He drew himself up to his full height, meeting Marissa’s gaze and refusing to back down. He met her gaze, holding it with unshakable confidence.

The corner of her mouth ticked up in a smile, and Conall knew that whatever test she had just setup for him, he had passed.

“It is a healer’s job to help,” she said simply. “It doesnae matter who they are. It is nay matter who their Laird is. We help. Whoever denied ye are sorry excuses for a healer. And they’re cowards.”

Conall snorted at the blunt way she spoke, but he found that he appreciated it. He nodded, an idea popping into his head.

“Would ye like to join us in the castle?” he asked, his eyes turning to land on Eliza.

Her cheeks had flushed with surprise the moment the offer fell from his lips. Was it a good surprise, though? He couldn’t be certain.

“I’m certain Eliza would like yer help,” he continued, watching Eliza closely as he spoke. “As would Kate, the maid who was attemptin’ to heal them before Eliza agreed.”

Marissa’s gaze fixed on her daughter. “Is that what ye want?”

Eliza nodded vigorously. “Aye, I would love for ye to join us.”

Marissa nodded as if the matter was considered settled.

“If ye go to the Thistlewood,” Conall explained, “tell them that ye’ll be stayin’ and to put the room under me name. Everythin’ that ye need while ye’re here will be covered by me.”

Eliza shot him a grateful look before turning her attention back to her mother.

“Go the inn,” she advised, “get yerself settled. I’d like some time to check in on me patients.”

Conall could tell that Marissa wanted to argue but seemed to decide better of it. She nodded, giving her daughter another quick hug before turning and walking in the direction of the inn.

The two of them stood in silence, watching her as she disappeared from view.

“Why did ye offer for her to come to the castle?” Eliza asked, and when Conall glanced at her, her face was unreadable.

He shrugged one shoulder, not wanting to be questioned further.

“Two healers is better than one,” he grunted before redirecting the conversation back to what he’d asked earlier. “Ye still dinnae tell me the truth of why ye lied. Why did ye cover for me?”

She rolled her eyes. “I told ye, if she kent the truth, she would have gone barmy. It wasnae worth it.”

Conall shook his head. He could sense that he wasn’t getting the full story, and he didn’t want to keep wondering about it.

“Tell me the truth, Eliza,” he ordered.

She stared at him. He stared back. He put all the force of his iron will behind it, knowing that he would not be the one to bend first. He couldn’t be. Not on this.

Finally, Eliza sighed.

“Alright,” she began, tone sounding resigned. “I dinnae tell her the truth because it doesnae matter. Daenae misunderstand me, ye kidnapped me. And I’m still angry as a hornet about it. But I understand why ye did it. And I’m glad that I could help the bairns.”

She pointed to the medical tent where the sick still lay just feet away.

“And Marissa knowin’ the truth?” Eliza continued. “Well, it would nae have been good for anyone.”

Satisfied, Conall nodded. She said nothing else as she turned away from him, walking into the tent to check on her patients, just as she said she was going to.

He stood and watched her, studying her as she tended to them. She had seemed so simple when he’d first thrown her over his shoulder.

Nothing more than a woman living in the woods with her mother, determined to make the world a better place by healing one person at a time. She might have been a pain in his arse, but he’d thought that he’d understood her.

Now, Conall wasn’t so sure. The more time he spent with her, the more of an enigma Eliza became.

She was becoming a puzzle to him. Something that he wanted to twist and turn and figure out all the ways in which she ticked, all the places in which she could fit.

Eliza bent, saying something to one of the men that caused him to smile. It was a pained expression, but the way the man gazed at her, it was as if she herself had hung the moon.

She is an angel to these people.

And she looked the part. Her blonde hair glinted as light filtered in through the opening in the tent. Her brown eyes were soft and gentle as she cared for her patients.

Just as he always did, Conall could not help but admire her beauty, the sheer perfection of her.

The familiar feeling beneath his kilt began to stir, and he stepped away. It would not serve him well to walk around with his cock pressing up from beneath his kilt.

“I need somethin’ to distract meself,” he said aloud, hoping that the act of speaking would serve to occupy his mind.

An idea struck him, something that he could do to pass the time. And so, he turned his back on Eliza, allowing her to continue about her work.

After all, he had his own work to do.