Page 60 of Highlander the Conqueror

Slayer’s anger flared learning she had visited the hounds when he had warned her not to but now was not the time to debate it. “Do what is necessary to save Fane. He is my best hound, though a stubborn one.”

Sky caught the annoyance in his eyes at her for not staying away from the hounds though concern as well. His annoyance would have to wait. Her only concern now was for Fane.

“I must stick my fingers down his throat as far as I can to force him to empty his stomach.”

“Absolutely not. He will bite your fingers off,” Slayer warned.

“He is too ill, and he knows I mean him no harm.”

“I will do it,” Slayer insisted.

“Nay, your hand is too large,” she said and lifted Fane’s head off her lap. “I am going to help you. You must trust me, Fane.”

Slayer could have sworn the hound’s eyes pleaded for her help.

Sky spoke softly to the hound, letting him know repeatedly as she soothingly stroked along the top of his head that she would never harm him, that he was safe with her.

Slayer understood that she was earning his trust and confidence with her soothing words and comforting strokes, and he offered what little help he could. “I will spread his mouth for you.” He did not wait for her to agree, he gently spread the hound’s mouth open.

Sky was as quick as she could be about it, the hound not making a fuss as if he understood it was what he needed. She withdrew her hand and he continued to gag until he turned his head away from her to release a bit of what was in his stomach.

“It is not enough,” Sky said and did it again. It wasn’t until the third try that Fane spewed a sizeable piece of meat. “I believe that is the culprit.” She caressed the hound’s head. “You did good, Fane, very good. You will begin to feel better. I will get you settled with some water and a soft bed where you can rest.”

“He goes back to the pen,” Slayer ordered.

“You cannot mean that. He still requires tending if he is to get well. Please, my lord,” she said and rested her hand on his arm. “Please let me continue to help him.”

In the time since meeting her, she had never shown him an ounce of anger. Her plea was soft, her touch gentle, and he wondered if that, in itself, was what healed.

Slayer stood and cast a glance over everyone there. “There is no more to see here. Return to your chores.”

Some hurried a curious look at Sky and Fane, shaking their heads while others whispered amongst themselves. He knew what they thought. What strange powers did this woman with two different colored eyes possess that she could bend a fierce animal to her will?

“Please,” Sky pleaded again. “Fane has served you well, please let me care for him.”

“Care for him, but when he is well enough, he returns to the pen,” Slayer said.

Her happiness and relief shined not only in her smile but her eyes as well. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

He hunched down and scolded softly, “Do not tempt me, wife, or I will be sending you to your bedchamber to do penance.”

“I would do it most willingly.”

He grumbled to himself, imagining her naked, kneeling at the side of the bed in prayer and what he would do seeing her there.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he scolded and scooped Fane up in his arms, to keep his hands from touching her and walked to the keep, swearing beneath his breath as he went.

* * *

Sky had takengreat pains to see Fane made comfortable in the Great Hall, piling blankets so he would have a soft bed to sleep on. She kept a bucket of water close and made sure he drank from it. She kept the kitten with her as well and damn if the small ball of fur didn’t go to Fane and lick his face, as if empathizing with his plight, before settling against him to sleep, and Fane was too ill to object.

Slayer checked on the three now and again, spending a good portion of the night in his solar, wondering who could have poisoned Fane. He did not believe anyone in the clan poisoned him and since the hound got sick soon after their return home, he wondered if he had been poisoned before returning home. That seemed the most logical possibility. But why hadn’t Boden, the other hound, taken ill? Fane was the dominate of the four and he could have refused to let Boden consume any of the meat. Why the wolfhounds? Unless the meat was not meant for the hounds and how would he ever determine that, not knowing where Fane was poisoned?

He returned to the Great Hall to see his wife had fallen asleep sitting up against the wall, though it hadn’t taken long for her to slump to her side, her arm draped over Fane. He had desperately wanted to sit beside her and take her in his arms so she could rest against him, but he couldn’t let anyone see them being so intimate. He had reluctantly taken himself to bed after checking on the trio one last time.

In the morning Fane was much better, his eyes alert, his drooling normal, and not a tremor to him. She had gotten to Fane early enough to save him, though it had been Fane who had sought her help. He had instinctively known she would help him. His wife did have a way with animals.

With Fanes’ presence in the Great Hall, the servants avoided it. They were too fearful to be near him. Though they were in awe of Sky’s courage, but also cautious, not sure if her strange ability to calm and tend the fierce animal came from good or evil. Then, of course, there was the sudden friendship of Fane and Angel that Slayer had witnessed earlier today. He had to admit it was a sight to see the little ball of fur bouncing and swatting playfully at Fane and the hound poking the kitten with his nose to send her tumbling only for her to bounce back on her feet and start the playful game over again. Then, suddenly tired, Angel would curl herself against Fane and they both would sleep.

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