Page 1 of Cherished By A Highlander

CHAPTER 1

Shade approached the slight rise wishing she had taken a different path home, but with the gray skies promising rain, she wanted to get home as quickly as possible. And this was the fastest way. It wasn’t that she feared taking this path. It was that it broke her heart every time she came this way and was reminded of the tragedy.

A slow gait would not help. It was better to hasten her pace and be done with it. Walk right past it, but as usual she couldn’t. As soon as the abbey came into view, she knew she could not avoid it, go past it as if it didn’t exist, or ignore the memories that rushed at her.

It was a small abbey and it had been shuttered for several years until about two years ago, when eight monks arrived and took residence. They had kept their distance from her, claiming she was no healer and suggesting she was possibly a witch because her healing skills came from the old ways of the Highlands. But one monk thought differently, Brother Emmett. He had come to her cottage and requested her help in identifying Highland plants and learning their properties. She was surprised and a bit skeptical, but she obliged him. Overtime, they became friends and would meet in the woods, where she would teach him about the plants.

Shade stopped in front of the abbey, something she would not have considered doing if the monks were there. But no monks were in residence and the abbey was once again shuttered. The area folk wondered if any monks would ever occupy the abbey again after the tragedy that took place there. A tragedy that began with the arrival of a new monk.

Brother Emmett had confided in her about the man, not truly a monk, but more a man in need of help. She recalled him telling her that he was a troubled soul with much anger raging in him. He had been a fierce warrior whose wife had been murdered by renegades while he was away, called to battle. He hunted the men down and made them pay for what they had done to her. Unfortunately, his revenge brought him no peace and he joined the monks hoping to find it.

Regrettably, he only found more rage.

Shade walked over to the spot that marked the graves with wood crosses, eight in all.

It was said that one day the warrior monk returned from hunting to find every one of the monks slaughtered. However, most believe that the warrior monk suffered a fit of rage and killed every one of them. He buried the monks along with the help of some of the farmers in the area, never speaking a word as he did. He left after that with some saying he swore revenge against those who took the monks’ lives. While others said the fierce warrior in him emerged and his thirst for blood was too great to ignore and he returned to his old life. Whatever had happened, he now killed for coins, and you better have plenty of them if you wanted to hire The Monk.

Shade believed the tale had grown from its first telling and that the truth lay somewhere within it. Either way, she missed her friend Brother Emmett. He was a kind soul, and he honestlybelieved that there was a goodness to the man now known as The Monk. She liked to believe he was right.

Shade continued walking, recalling with fondness the times she had spent with Brother Emmett. He had been a man of at least thirty-odd years, shorter than her by a head and with one shoulder lower than the other due to an accident when he was young. He had told her that was why he was so interested in healing. He hoped to discover ways to heal such injuries and save others from endless suffering.

She had suggested that a broken bone that wasn’t set correctly was probably the reason for his shoulder not allowing the bone to heal properly, causing the droop to his shoulder. Brother Emmett was curious about her suggestion, and they often discussed broken bones and how they should be tended to. She missed her conversations with him and the times they spent together had provided something she lacked in her life, a bond of friendship. Her heart had ached when she heard of his death. He would have made an excellent healer, and she continued to miss him as she missed her best friend, Ula.

They had been friends since they were young. Ula had met and fallen in love with a fine man from Clan MacLeish and wed him. While she was happy for her friend, her heart had ached the day she had left to go begin her married life with her husband Caleb at Clan MacLeish. It was a full day’s ride there, which meant they would see little of each other. Though Shade had given her word that she would be there for Ula when she delivered her first bairn. That had been at least six moon cycles ago and she had yet to hear from her. And with tongues wagging about an imminent battle between Clan MacLeish and Clan Glencairn, she was worried about her friend.

It was recalling such memories and having such thoughts that left her feeling lonely at times. She didn’t live a completely solitary life, with people frequently seeking her healing skills. Itwas the close friendship she missed and the caring that came along with it. Lately, she wondered what her life would be like if she had wed and had bairns. But she worried that time had passed, her twenty and six years being considered too old to wed and bear children. Childbirth could be deadly for women at any age, but even more so as a woman grew older, the demands of endless work to survive life in the Highlands wearing women down.

Stopping when her cottage came into view, Shade greeted the welcoming sight with a gentle smile. The dense forest canopy above provided a sanctuary and for a moment the sun broke free of the clouds and dappled sunlight filtered through the colorful autumn leaves, casting a serene, almost magical light around her cottage. Here, deep in the woods and far removed from any well-worn traveling path, she found peace.

She hurried inside eager to get a fire going. Autumn nights in the Highlands often brought with them a strong chill. It was winter’s way of saying it was eager to wake from its slumber. Her cottage was a good size. The wall containing the lone window was surrounded by rough-hewn shelves and held a variety of crocks containing salves, mixtures of plants, and baskets that held stalks of dried plants. A narrow table ran the length of the wall and contained even more of her healing items, and a sizeable mortar and pestle sat in the center under the window. She loved glancing out on the beauty of the forest that surrounded her while working. Underneath the table were stored baskets and buckets.

A table, sufficient for two people, two benches, a chair by the hearth, a generous-sized bed with a chest beside it and another chest at the bottom of the bed occupied the rest of the cottage. She smiled, the comfort of her home surrounding her like loving arms. Though, she briefly wondered how it would feel to be welcomed home in the arms of a man who loved her.

There was too much to be done to spend time on wasteful thoughts. She hung her brown wool cloak on one of the few pegs on the wall next to the door and grabbed her apron that hung there. Since early morning, she had been tending to an elderly man who claimed he had outlived his years and welcomed death. But death wanted no part of the spry man and by the time she finished with him, he was ready to take his great-grandson fishing.

With dusk not far off, she had little time to get things done. It didn’t take her long to get a fire going and to bring in more logs for the night. She had hoped to fashion an autumn wreath for the door from the branches she had collected yesterday, but that would have to wait for tomorrow. It was more important that she gathered what she needed to get supper started. Kale with wild onions would make a good stew and would warm her and fill her belly for the night along with the bread she had left from yesterday.

She hurried to her garden. It sat to one side of her house just past a line of trees in an area that provided sufficient sunlight. Her garden brought her much pleasure, whether planting or harvesting, she cherished every moment she spent there.

Clouds continued to gather and darken overhead. She would have preferred to linger in her task, but the impending rain had her hurrying to fill her basket with bunches of kale and onions. She heard what sounded like footfalls as she stood, ready to grab her basket and head inside. She rarely got people seeking her help this late in the day, especially in the autumn when night fell early, so she was a bit apprehensive. She shook her worry away, reminding herself that someone might need her help, and she turned and froze.

A man stood on the border of her garden not far from her, his horse behind him. He was tall, his dark hair brushing his broad shoulders that were drawn back. His handsome featurescould easily capture a woman’s heart though the slight tilt of his chin and his rigid stance warned he was a man always in command, as did his eyes focused intensely on her. His dark cloak was drawn back over one shoulder, and it was easy to see he possessed a lean, muscled body beneath his shirt and plaid. Three sheaths hung from his belt, daggers snug in all of them, and the leather straps that crisscrossed his chest no doubt supported a sheath strapped to his back that held his sword, which meant he was a warrior. If so, Shade logically concluded that he had suffered a wound that needed tending.

Shade picked up her basket and walked toward him. “Can I help you?”

“Are you the healer Shade?”

His voice held power even though he had not spoken loudly, and it almost brought her to an abrupt halt. “I am. Are you in need of healing?”

“Aye,” he said.

She got a better look at him as she got closer. A few wrinkles hugged the corner of his eyes and silver strands ran through his dark hair. It was obvious his youthful days had passed him by. Neither, however, hampered his features far finer up close and no doubt sent women’s hearts fluttering with one glance. And she was not immune to it, flutters rippling through her stomach. The color of his eyes, however, warned. The color reminded Shade of an approaching summer storm when the sky was a bold blue with a swirl of angry gray clouds. A storm brewed within the man, and she would not want to be around when he unleashed it. The quicker she tended to his wound the quicker he could be on his way.

She did not bother to tell him to follow her. He tethered his horse to a tree branch and stepped alongside her as soon as she stepped out of her garden and followed her to the cottage. Shadeplaced the basket on the bench near the door and wiped her hands on her apron as she asked, “How may I help you?”

He shoved his cloak off his left shoulder that remained covered and Shade almost gasped. Blood soaked his shoulder and sleeve. Her healing instincts took command.

“Take your cloak and shirt off and sit, she ordered with a nod at a bench to the side of the door. “I will be right back.” She scooped up the basket and went to enter the dwelling and stopped. “Remove those straps that hold your sword as well,” she ordered, nodding at the ones crossing his chest.

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