Page 11 of The Highlander’s Enchanted Healer (Spellbound Hearts #2)
I assumed she was referring to the feud with the Gordons, but I was not in the mood to speak on that. “I’m nae ruthless,” I assured her, which was the only thing I was willing to say on the topic. “And Alba is my sister. I would do anything for her.”
Aria opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead, she studied me for a long, quiet moment, and I got the feeling she was considering what to say.
“Ye said the humming was new?” she asked.
I nodded.
“When did it start?”
I thought about that for a moment and blinked in shock. “It started the last time Roger visited her.”
Aria nodded. I thought the humming was a good thing. That seems to confirm it. “Did anything unusual happen on the visit?”
“Nay…wait, aye. Roger told me in front of Aria that he had decided to wait a bit longer to take a wife. He’s the new laird of Clan Fergusson as his da recently passed.
“Did yer sister and Roger Fergusson have a tendre for each other?”
“Aye. Roger apprenticed with my da starting at fifteen summers, and I suspect Alba and Roger developed a tendre then.”
“’Tis horrid that the king forced yer da to break the alliance with the Fergussons. Especially for yer sister and Roger.”
“Aye, it was nae well accepted all around, but my da was loyal to the king, as I am.”
She frowned at my words, and it made her nose crinkle adorably, and her lips pursed. What the devil was wrong with me? Why was I having such thoughts about this woman?
“We should get going,” I said, a bit more gruffly than I’d intended. My irritation with myself was seeping out in my interactions with her.
She nodded, and we continued down the corridor, but as we started to turn toward the bedchambers, Myrtle came barreling around the corner with a tall pile of dirty bed linens in her arms and ran headfirst into Aria.
They collided with an oof , and Myrtle reached out and grabbed Aria’s arm to steady her, even as I placed my hand on Aria’s back to do the same.
Aria stiffened and stilled all in one motion, and the hiss of her sucking in a sharp breath filled the momentary silence.
For one moment, I thought she was hurt, but then she said, “Oh. Oh. Ye do nae need to fash so. The wash will get done.”
The chambermaid frowned, raised her eyebrows at me, and said, “Aye, my lady,” before she curtsied to us both and scurried away.
When Aria did not move, I stepped to her side and touched her elbow. “Are ye all right?” She seemed to be stuck in a stupor.
She blinked and blurted, “Ye’re verra handsome.” Her eyes went wide the instant the words left her mouth, and a blush stained her cheeks, making the freckles that dusted her face redden ever so slightly. It was obvious she had not intended to say that aloud.
Heat rose under my own skin, and the same urge to touch her that I’d felt before became fierce, burning in my chest. I wanted to slide my finger across her cheek, then down between the valley between her breasts to see how far the freckles continued.
Did they dust her stomach? Her thighs? Nay!
I clenched my fists at my side. My da’s blood still cried out for justice, my mama’s face still haunted my dreams. Yet, when I looked at Aria, their faces blurred, replaced by hers.
I would not dishonor their memory by forgetting my vow, even as every fiber of my being urged me toward her.
Torn between duty and desire, I gestured stiffly to the door at the end of the hall. “That will be yer bedchamber for as long as ye choose to stay.”
She nodded even as her hand fluttered to her blush splotched neck, and she pressed her fingers to her skin.
I imagined it was hot under her touch, then cursed myself for the thought.
My sister would be whole in body and mind had I not been so selfish before.
Yet, here I stood, already half-undone by a woman’s blush.
God’s blood. I took a step away from her, then half a step back before catching myself.
“I’ll send my younger brother, Allan, to yer bedchamber to fetch ye for supper. ”
“Thank ye,” she said, her tone choked with obvious humiliation.
With a nod, I turned and strode away, forcing myself not to look back, though I wanted to.
And the fact that I wanted to sent me striding down the hall, out of the castle and to the training ground.
I had a hundred tasks to see to before supper, but there were not any now that were as urgent as the one at hand: get Aria Leslie out of my head.
The flickering orange glow of the torches cast long, dancing shadows across the packed dirt of the training ground.
I was heartily glad in this moment, as lust gripped me, that when I’d become laird, I’d kept my da’s practice of keeping torches lit at night for men to train here if they wished.
My da’s gruff voice echoed in my memory: “Idleness breeds laziness, lad.” The scent of pine pitch and smoke hung heavy in the crisp night air as I approached the outer ring where a dozen sweaty men circled each other like wolves, their breath forming small clouds in the chill.
“Who’ll test their steel against mine tonight?
” I called, my voice carrying across the yard.
“That would be me,” came Thor’s rumbling bass from the darkness behind.
I pivoted on my heel, my boots grinding against the gritty soil, just as the wooden practice sword spun through the torchlight toward me.
I snatched it from the air, the worn grip familiar against my calloused palm, and beckoned him with two fingers.
Thor’s weathered face split into a lopsided grin, revealing the jagged gap where a Gordon axe had claimed his tooth in the last skirmish.
Though his beard was streaked with silver, his massive frame still moved with the deadly grace of a mountain cat.
Without warning, he lunged. Our practice blades met with a resounding crack that vibrated up my arm.
I matched him blow for blow, the solid thwack of wood on flesh punctuating our deadly dance.
Sweat soaked through my linen shirt as we circled, our shadows merging and separating in the torchlight.
My blade found his thigh with a satisfying thud.
He countered with a stinging strike to my shoulder.
I moved left, then spun right, my blade whistling through the air before connecting with his midsection, then pivoting again to deliver sharp raps to his back and wrist in quick succession.
“I yield!” he bellowed, his exaggerated grimace betrayed by the twinkle in his eye.
The men around us chuckled and murmured their approval, but their camaraderie only fueled the dark fire burning in my chest. I stalked away toward the straw-stuffed dummies, my boots leaving deep imprints in the dirt.
With a guttural cry, I fell upon them, hacking and thrusting until wooden splinters flew like deadly rain and salt sweat stung my eyes like the tears I refused to shed.
“Ye’ll break the wooden blade acting crazed as ye are,” came Allan’s familiar drawl.
I turned to see my brother standing at the edge of the woods, goblet of wine in hand, grinning like the fool he was.
He swigged his wine as he approached me then held the gold goblet out to me. “Mayhap the wine will make ye forget the new healer, and dare I say, wine ’tis much easier a lust killer than training yerself to death.”
I brought my wooden blade to a stop and glared at my brother. “Ye talk too much,” I huffed.
Allan chuckled at that. “I have nae seen ye this worked up over a lass ever. ’Tis good to see ye can still feel things like desire.”
I slammed the wooden blade into the sand and faced him, chest heaving. “Did ye nae hear me?”
“Aye, I did. And ye do nae need to talk at all,” he shot back. “Yer face reveals what ye do nae say. The men are already placing wagers on how long before the healer winds up in yer bed.”
Allan’s words called Aria’s image up like a siren sent to torment me. Her likeness danced before me—vibrant silky hair, bright eyes, inviting curves, long graceful line of her throat that I imagined was verra kissable. I barely held my groan in.
Allan must have seen something on my face, because he gave me a sly look and said, “Do nae fight it, Brother. Even a laird needs someone to warm his nights.”
I clenched my teeth so hard they ached. When I felt the danger of saying something I’d regret later had passed, I said, “The lass is here to aid Alba, nae warm my bed.”
Alan gave me an irritating and knowing smirk. “Then why did ye take her to Alba’s bedchamber yerself?”
“Because of the incident earlier with Isla.”
“If ye say so,” Alan replied, but his disbelieving tone spoke volumes for how he really felt. He turned away, whistling some bawdy tune, and left me standing in the torchlight, jaw clenched so tight once more that pain radiated from my mouth, up my cheek, and to my head.
For a long breath I stood there, letting the cold air burn in my lungs and willing myself to never allow images of Aria to fill my head again.
But even as the thought left my mind, new memories replaced the ones I’d only just managed to banish.
I felt my hand on the warm skin of her gently curved back, and I saw her berry red lips as they formed the words, “Ye’re verra handsome.
” I heard the throaty rumble of her voice and smelled the heather that clung to her skin and hair.
Desire hardened me, but I was stronger than my animal instincts. I would not weaken. I could not. I’d made a vow, and I intended to keep it, no matter what it cost me.