Healing the Highlander (26 page)

TWENTY-
SIX

How on earth had Ellie known the name of that song last night?

Leah sipped at the tea Drew had brewed for her before he'd gone. It hadn't even been daylight when he'd kissed her forehead and told her he was off to the lists. She was almost tempted to think he'd left early to escape spending time with her.

Not that she could blame him completely. She'd felt used up and foul when she'd first awakened.

Thank goodness for this tea. Now on her second cup, she could actually believe that her head wasn't going to explode after all.

No more honey ale for her. Not ever. It had clouded her mind and stripped her of every inhibition she had left.

Not that she appeared to have as many as she'd thought, based on her behavior over the last couple of days.

She laid her head against the back of the big chair, eyes closed, and stretched her feet toward the warmth of the fire. Unbidden, strains of her mother's favorite song drifted through her mind once more.

The damn thing wouldn't even be written for seven hundred years. There was no way Ellie could know its name ... at least no way unless Ellie had come from the future, too.

Leah lifted a hand to her temple, massaging. The whole thing was enough to give her a headache, if she hadn't already managed that herself with all the ale she'd downed last night.

It wasn't impossible. Look at her. If she'd managed to get here from the future, why couldn't Ellie. The people were Faerie descendants, after all.

Glancing up to the window casement, she noted the sun was high in the morning sky. Surely Drew should have returned by now. It had been hours since he'd left. No one worked out for that long.

Tired of waiting, she pushed up from her chair and crossed the room to the big chest in the corner. A clean shift, a drying towel, and she'd be ready to hit the bathhouse. A nice long soak and she'd feel like a new woman.

And if Drew still wasn't back by then?

She'd find something to do with herself. Maybe she'd hunt Ellie down and ask her where she came from. Or when. That should make for one interesting little conversation.

A contented smile curved her lips as she stepped into the hallway.

Ahead of her, maids hustled hack and forth through an open doorway, hauling bundles of bedding in and out

"Cleaning day?" she asked when she drew even with the door.

"No, my lady," one of the girls answered. "Sir Peter has taken his English arse back where it belongs." "Agnes!" another rebuked sharply. "You shouldna be saying such as that."

"True," the first replied, smiling. "As I've no proof he's gone back to England, only that he's left here."

The two of them giggled, heads bent as they continued their work.

Moreland was gone?

Oh, this was already shaping up to be the best day she'd had in a very long time.

bath taken, light lunch delivered to her room and finished, and still Drew hadn't returned.

It was almost enough to make a girl think he was avoiding her. But why on earth would he feel the need to do something like that?

Because Moreland was gone? Now that would make sense. She'd agreed to wait until the knight had left before pressing the issue of going to help the MacQuarries.

And yet. .. according to Rosalyn, Drew had already presented her case to the laird.

She paced, back and forth in front of the fireplace, her thoughts struggling to find a possibility that worked.

Unless ...

What if Drew had already received the laird's word on the matter? Word that he didn't want to pass on to her.

But would he hesitate because the laird's decision had come down against giving his help or for it?

Whatever the case, Drew might not want to speak with her, but she certainly wanted to speak to him. Even if only to put her uncomfortable suspicions to rest.

She stepped into the hallway to find Ellie hurrying in her direction.

"I was just coming to get you." Ellie grasped Leah's hand as she reached her side. "I want to show you something."

"Show me what?" Now that she'd made up her mind to hunt down Drew and confront him, she really wasn't up for a distraction.

"Puppies! The most wonderful little squirming balls of love you'll ever lay eyes on. They're just precious. And though they're only three days old, Missy assures me they're ready for visitors."

Puppies? Okay Maybe a short delay would do her good. Give her time to cool down a little so that she wouldn't be quite so confrontational when she found Drew. Confrontational could be bad. Especially if she'd simply made a big deal in her mind out of nothing. Besides, she'd wanted to talk to Ellie anyway.

"Let's go."

She followed quietly alongside Ellie as they left the keep and headed toward the outbuildings, but held back a step or two when she noted one of the stable boys out in the courtyard.

Confrontation might be a bad idea but simply knowing where Drew had gone off to shouldn't be a problem.

She veered her course, stopping just behind the boy.

"Excuse me. I was looking for Drew. Have you seen him?"

The boy appeared startled at first, then glanced up at the sky, one eye squinted, before answering.

"This time of day, it's likely he's in the lists, my lady. Should I take word yer looking for him?"

"No, thank you. I'll wait until he's finished." She turned from the boy, hurrying to catch up with Ellie.

"Is something wrong?" the woman asked as she joined her.

"Not really. It's just that I haven't seen Drew since early this morning so I thought I'd ask around to see if anybody knew where I might find him."

Ellie smiled and reached for her hand again, pulling her forward as she started walking. "No need to worry. This time of day he'd likely be in the lists."

But he'd gone to do that just as the sun was rising. Nobody worked out that much. Okay. Maybe professional soldiers who made their living fighting for whatever lord would pay them most might spend that much time practicing. But Drew wasn't a professional soldier.

He didn't even condone fighting. His mother had confirmed that herself.

They'd entered a small building off the side of the main stable and there, toward the back, stood the huge beast of a dog Ellie had sent to keep her company in the garden. If Leah didn't know better, she'd swear the animal guarded what looked like a padded box, where an alert-eyed little terrier and several squirming bundles of fluff lay.

"Hey, Missy. This is my new sister, Leah. She's the one I told you about. I brought her out to admire your beautiful babies. May we hold one?"

Was she serious? Leah found her head swiveling between the woman at her side and the dog at her feet. Ellie behaved as if she were actually having a conversation with the animal. More amazing was that the dog looked intelligent enough to be answering!

"Thank you, sweetie." Ellie bent, touching each little ball of fur in turn. "You did so good on these babies, Missy!"

Weird. Maybe that's what living in a nest of Faeries eventually did to you, set you to talking to animals.

"Ellie, I've a question for you. I may be totally off base but. . ." She paused trying to think of a subtle way to ask, realizing at last there was none. Maybe she could work her way up to asking what she really wanted to know. "You're not from around here, are you? I mean, not originally."

Ellie looked up at her, smiling as she rubbed one of the little furballs against her cheek. "No. I was born and raised just outside a little town called Prairieland."

"Uh-huh." Certainly didn't sound Scottish. Or medieval. "And what would you say if I were to ask something totally off the wall, like, have you even been born yet?"

The other woman laughed, handing the bundle she held up to Leah before standing with another curled in her hand. "I guess I'd have answer by saying, technically, no. No more than you have, am I right?"

"You are." At least she had her explanation as to how Ellie had known the name of that song.

"Believe me, Leah, it's a whole lot easier if you don't put a lot of effort into trying to wrap your brain around it. The Fae have their own reasons for everything they do. And while those reasons may not make any sense at all to us while we're in the middle of whatever's going on, once you get on the back side of it, the view is altogether different." Ellie snuggled her face into the puppy she held and smiled again. "Aren't they precious?"

The dark ball of fur in Leah's hand wiggled and a tiny pink tongue touched her finger. No wonder people loved puppies so much. They tugged at your heartstrings and made you happy no matter what your troubles, a living, breathing distraction from the concerns of the world.

Maybe she should bring Drew out here to try petting puppies for a while instead of spending all his time with that sword stuff.

Too bad the concerns of the world had a way of creeping back in.

"Don't you think it's strange that Drew spends so much time in the lists? He's always out there."

Two or three times a day ever since they'd arrived here, it seemed. How a man as thoughtful and caring as Drew, as opposed to fighting as he was supposed to be, could be so obsessed with participating in the violence pf practicing swordplay was beyond her ability to comprehend.

"Of course he is. He has to be."

"I don't understand. It's not like he's a mercenary or anything. Why does he have to? Why the constant practice to build his skill with a sword?"

Ellie tipped her head, smiling quizzically. "It has nothing to do with skill. You've seen his injuries. The exercise he takes in the lists is the only thing standing between him and the debilitating pain that threatens to make an invalid of him. Surely he's told you. He's spent years searching for some other relief, some miracle cure, but until he finds one, this is all he can do. If he stops, he'll end up confined to his bed in no time at all."

Leah's throat tightened as she listened to the words. As if she'd taken a punch to the stomach, a wave of nausea washed over her.

He'd found his miracle cure. Her. No wonder he was so kind, so accommodating. No wonder he'd insisted that they should marry. It had nothing to do with loving her. Nothing to do with thinking she was his Soulmate.

He only wanted to be healed and thanks to one careless moment, he knew she had the ability to make that healing happen.

TWENTY-
SEVEN

No more excuses. Time to face doing what needed to be done.

Drew gathered his dirty shirt and plaid into a bundle and left the bathhouse, headed for the bedchamber he shared with Leah.

His wife.

He'd done everything in his power to avoid the conversation he must have with her, even going so far as to borrow a change of clothing from Caden.

But now, as the sun sank low in the horizon, it was time to put aside the actions of a coward and tell her.

If only it wouldn't hurt her so much to hear that Blane had decided against helping her family. He'd give anything to avoid being the one to cause her pain.

Liar! His guilty conscience pounded in his brain, over and over as it had all day.

If her pain means so much, why didn't you fight your laird's decision? Why didn't you throw the full force of your support back in his face when he said no? Why did you agree he'd chosen the right path, like some pathetic bootlicking vermin?

Across the garden and into the kitchens, he listened to the accusations he was unable to shut out. Up the stairs and to his own doorway they followed, their indictment beating at him.

"No more," he whispered, his hand pressing on the door.

He hardened his mind to the argument. Steeled his heart for the confrontation to come. Refused to even consider at what point the voice of his conscience ringing in his head had become Leah's voice.

She sat quietly staring into the fire, her hands clasped in her lap. Nary a single candle was lit against the growing gloom of evening.

"Good evening, dearling." He forced the cheerful greeting in advance of the conversation to come. "Did you no want the candlelight to chase away the dark?"

He busied his hands, touching a twig to the fire to carry to the candles.

Stalling. Be a man for a change. Tell her the truth.

Her eyes bore into him when he turned. His traitorous imagination tried to convince him disappointment and accusation already swam in those depths. But that couldn't be. There was no way she could have learned the truth already. Blane had assured him he would be the one to break the news to her in his own good time.

The time that lay heavily upon him now.

"Our laird has advised me of his decision regarding yer request for aid to MacQuarrie Keep."

She didn't move, nor did her expression change. He wondered briefly if she even blinked.

"And?" she asked quietly when a time had passed uncomfortably long between them.

"Our laird has fully considered yer request but regrets he canna offer his help. Any attempt to save yer grandparents would result in a battle with the English who hold yer family keep and he canna justify exchanging the lives of our people for yers."

He waited. Waited for her response; waited for her eyes to soften.

Neither came.

"I ken yer upset, dearling, but yer bound to respect the decision of yer laird."

"Your laird, not mine." Slowly she pushed up out of the chair, her arms crossed over her breast. "All these days of waiting, for nothing. You've wasted my time. Wasted what little time my grandparents have."

"He's yer laird as well since we've married." He moved close to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You've no a need to worry over what's to happen to you. As my wife, this is yer home now."

He babbled, carrying on like some serving wench with good gossip, unable to stop his own blether, until she ducked her shoulder away from his touch. Backing away, she stepped behind her chair, placing it between them like a shield in battle, her hands clutching the wood.

"I didn't marry you to find a home for myself. I married you to get rid of Moreland so that I could get help to go to my grandparents. I was clear about that from the beginning."

As if her reason for marriage was important to him. "It's of no matter why we wed. We're wed. That's all that matters now."

"It's not all that matters. I was honest with you. You knew I agreed to the marriage because it was the only way you'd take me to the people who could save my grandparents. But you?" She shook her head, her fingers tightening on the chair back until he thought the blood might cease to flow. "You were only interested in what would benefit you."

She blamed him for Blane's refusal? "I took yer request to our laird. I'm the one who spoke on yer behalf." At least until Blane refused to help. Then, when it might have done some good, he'd been silent.

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. Why'd you agree to marry me?"

Did her disappointment make her daft?

"You ken the reason well enough. If we'd no wed it would have brought the wrath of Moreland down on my people. Him and the soldiers who amassed at our gates."

"You lie!" she yelled, her eyes flashing with what could only be anger.

Daft or no, he'd had enough.

With one arm, he swept the chair from between them, sending it toppling out of his way to land on its side. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her close. He wouldn't be accused of something he hadn't done.

"We've covered this ground before, you and I. I told you then, I'm no a man given to falsehoods. I've no ever lied to you."

"Why did you marry me?" she demanded again, as if she'd never heard his answer the first time.

"Because Moreland—" he began, stopping in surprise when she slammed the side of her fist into his chest.

"Lies! You married me to use me. You said yourself you knew what I was. I should have paid more attention, but I didn't. I was too stupid. I'd been careless enough to heal that damn cut on your arm and you wanted me to heal all that afflicts your body." She jerked her hand from his hold, rubbing at her wrist as she backed away from him. "You married me to use me. Deny that if you can.

Of course he couldn't deny it. They both knew that well enough. So he stood there staring at her, his face a hardened, emotionless mask that might as well have belonged to a stone carving.

It hurt. She'd known it was true before he'd ever opened his mouth. Confirming it as he did with his silence cut her to the bone. She wanted only to have it over with. To end this miserable episode and move on.

"Moreland is gone. We should speak to your laird immediately and start proceedings to have our marriage annulled."

"There can be no annulment for us." He turned his back to her, leaning one hand against the mantle as he stared into the fire.

That's what he thought. Of course there could be. "You married me for something I have absolutely no intention of ever giving you so there's no point in hanging on. The whole thing is a farce. It has been from the beginning. We fill out papers or something and it'll all be over."

"There can be no annulment," he insisted stubbornly, turning his head to capture her with his eyes. "We presented ourselves as married to all we encountered, which on its own is enough to make it so. We said our vows on tire steps of the church in full view of all, sealing our fate. We are husband and wife."

"No," she denied. She wouldn't accept it. She couldn't. Spending her life married to a man who only wanted to use her? Whether it was using her to breed babies or using her for her Faerie gift, it was still using her. No. She wouldn't be used. That was what she'd risked everything, everything, to run from before. "There has to be a way to end this."

His eyes, dark and sad, bore into her. "The marriage has been consummated. There can be no possibility of annulment."

Yes it had been. But that had been when she'd imagined he might love her. "No one has to know about that." She wouldn't tell.

"I'll know." He shook his head, taking another step closer. "You'll know. You are my wife, Leah. I warned you it would be forever once we set foot in Dun Ard. You accepted those terms. You agreed to pay that price."

He reached a hand to her shoulder but she slapped it away, backing up another step.

"A price I agreed to pay to save my grandparents, which isn't going to happen now. Not to mention that I agreed before I knew what the price really was. Before I knew that all you really wanted me for was to use me as the magic cure you've been hunting for years."

"You'd refuse to use yer gift to help yer own husband?"

Oh, but he had that incredulous tone down just perfect.

"I won't use that damned, blighted Faerie curse for anyone, least of all someone who thought to trick me into it." She paused at the hitch in her voice, but only long enough to gather her control. "You've no idea what you ask of me. You don't know anything."

Without another word, he walked away, stopping only when he reached the door.

"I may ken little, my lady. But one thing I do ken is that I'd do all in my power to aid my own wife. My honor would demand it."

"You and your honor can just get the hell out!" she yelled, though in truth, her words were lost to him in the slamming of the door. He'd gone before she'd had the chance to demand he leave.

She'd wanted so much for it not to be true. Prayed it would all be some big mistake he would explain away when she confronted him.

Instead, he'd acted as if he were the injured party when she'd refused to heal him.

"Honor, my ass," she seethed, squatting down in front of the fire, her head in her hands.

Just last night he'd said he loved her. How could it turn out like this?

Because he'd never said any such thing.

He'd never said those words. She realized now it was only that she wanted so badly to hear the words, she'd accepted what he had said.

He'd said he needed her. About that he absolutely had not lied. He wanted to use her as much as Lord Moreland had. He wanted her for her gift. Just like the Nuadians had.

And using her against her will was something she'd determined long ago no one would ever do again.