Page 8 of The Highlander’s Enchanted Healer (Spellbound Hearts #2)

I winced at that and made a mental note to tell the next lass, if I could find a willing one to serve Alba, never to approach her with anything that appeared to be a weapon. I was certain that was what had set Alba off.

“Thank ye,” I replied. “Go see Fenella to tend yer cut.”

“I’ll do it myself,” Isla said, giving a shudder, which wasn’t surprising.

Alba had run the last healer off, and Fenella had offered to fill in until we found a new one, but from everything I’d heard, being the head of the kitchens did nae equate to having the knowledge or light touch a healer needed.

I had to find a healer soon, and when I did, I’d send Isla back to the warrior quarters, where she’d served as the chamber cleaner.

“Isla,” I began, softer now, “ye’ve shown more patience than most would. I appreciate ye trying with Alba.”

She nodded. “I do nae mean to make matters worse, Laird, but the lasses in the kitchens and the chambers will nae serve her. They fear evil spirts have possessed Lady Alba what with the constant humming she does, her refusal to bathe, and the way she hits her ears. They say—”

“I take yer meaning,” I replied, my patience stretching to breaking as my chest twisted with pain for Alba.

“Isla, go ask the chamber lasses to come to the kitchens and tell Fenella I will be down shortly to speak to all of ye.” Anyone spreading such tales about Alba would answer to me. She was nae possessed.

A throat clearing came from the solar door.

Callum stood on the threshold with a woman at his side.

My breath hitched. I knew this woman. Well, I didn’t know her, but I recognized her from the Samhain festival.

She was the lass I’d watched cross the great hall one evening at Dunvegan.

She stood before me now with that same pride I’d seen in her that night.

Her chin was tilted at a challenging angle, and her bright blue gaze met mine without a hint of fear or awe that people normally stared at me with.

“Beg pardon, Laird,” Callum said. “This lass came to the outer courtyard gate, demanding to see ye. She says it’s a matter of great urgency.”

I studied her carefully as I motioned for Isla to go.

She departed in a trembling flurry, rushing past Callum.

The lass’s hair was the color of autumn fire, falling in waves around a face that seemed carved by some master craftsman—high cheekbones, full lips pressed into a determined line, and eyes that reminded me of the sky on a stormy winter day.

Blue with hidden depths of clouds. She wore a gown of deep green, travel-stained but finely made, and carried herself with the unmistakable bearing of a proud lass.

“Ye can return to the gate,” I told Callum. “Though he was certainly not the only warrior assigned to guard the outer gates, I did not like to be down even one in numbers there. As Callum left, I focused once more on the lass.”

Well, ye’ve managed to persuade my warrior to leave his post and bring ye to me.

” I did not need to ask how she’d done so.

She was the loveliest lass I’d ever laid eyes upon, but that was not an excuse for Callum to have brought her to me.

He should have sent one of the errand lads.

I would be speaking to Callum about his lack of judgment later today.

“So, who are ye, and what’s this urgent matter? ”

“My name is Aria Leslie,” she said.

Her name had been on the wind at Dunvegan.

I narrowed my eyes, suspicious of the timing and recalling what Thor had told us earlier about riders being seen headed to Clan Leslie and how the swirling gossip indicated Elena Gordon and Laird Leslie were to be wed.

“I can nae imagine why ye would be here, given I was just told yer laird is to wed the stepsister of my enemy.”

If I’d nae been staring at her I would have missed the slight widening of her nostrils. It was the only reaction she displayed. Her lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “I’m here because I was to wed Laird Leslie. He vowed he would wed me, and he broke that vow by committing to wed Elena Gordon.”

“I do nae see how yer anger at being duped brings ye to me,” I said.

“I heard a whisper at Dunvegan Castle that ye were looking for an experienced healer of broken minds. I’m such a healer, and I am offering my services to ye for yer sister.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“What do ye want in return?” Allan inserted from where he stood.

“I refuse to stay at Laird Leslie’s castle and serve him and that spoiled lass Elena. And her brother—” she shuddered “—tries to seduce me every time he comes. He’s nae a good person. I ken yer claims about him. Everyone does. And I want to help ye.”

I studied the lass’s face, searching for signs of deceit like a tic or a subtle flaring of her nostrils. She met my gaze, unflinching, and without any such signs.

“Ye claim to heal minds, do ye?” I kept my tone skeptical, though something inside me lurched with desperate hope. “What makes ye think ye can succeed where so many have failed?”

“Because I am the best at healing broken minds. I have had success with several others.”

“Who?”

“To tell ye would be to breach their privacy. I can nae do that.”

I stood close enough to her that her scent of heather filled my nose with each deep breaths, and I could see the fine lines around her eyes that spoke of both laughter and sorrow.

She was a petite lass, the top of her head in line with my shoulder.

I was aware of Allan’s quick breath nearby and Thor to the right of me who scrutinized the woman with skepticism.

A wise laird would send this lass away with her refusal to give names, and the unwanted way she made my blood thicken.

I’d been trying to ignore my reaction to her, but with each breath she took, her chest pushed high and my body grew tauter like a string of a bow being drawn back bit by bit.

A wise laird would nae trust a stranger who appeared like a specter at the exact moment when desperation had reached its peak.

But I would grasp at any chance, however slim, to make Alba whole again.

“Follow me,” I said, brushing past her, determined to keep her at a mental distance, if not currently a physical one.

“Are ye throwing me out?” she asked, and the worry in her voice was the first real emotion I’d heard from her.

I stopped and turned toward her, seeing Thor and Allan behind her, looking surprised. “Nay,” I answered, noticing her flawless skin and wishing I hadn’t. “I’m taking ye to meet my sister.”

“Ye won’t regret this, Laird Campbell.”

“I certainly hope nae,” I replied.