Page 8 of Cherished By A Highlander

His grip was far too strong to break free of it and foolish as it was, she did not want to. She had never been kissed, never had a man tell her that he loved her or claim ‘you are mine.’ Even though she knew those words were not meant for her, she let herself think they were so that she could feel what it was like to be kissed.

His lips claimed hers with a strength that had her whole body tingling. It was a hungry kiss like someone who had gone too long without food and was now famished. It was a kiss filled with need that could not and would not be denied, and it was a kiss filled with love. She could feel it all in him, see the way his heart reacted, thumping madly against his chest. Those thoughts sobered Shade and brought her to her senses. This wasn’t right. He was not kissing her. He was kissing someone he had lost and loved, not her.

It took her a few moments, a few kisses to get him to stop and for her to ease herself away from him and for him to settle down. Cool, wet cloths helped as did soothing words that she hoped were similar to what the woman he loved would say to him.

His restlessness finally stopped, and he slept peacefully but he would not let go of her hand. He had taken hold of it shortly after the kissing ended and he had yet to release it. He held it firmly as if afraid to let go, as if afraid of losing her again.

Shade sat there thinking how lucky the woman had been to know such a strong, unwavering love, to feel it in his kisses, his touch, and no doubt every time they made love. A single tear slipped down her cheek, sad for him and the woman losing sucha strong, indelible love. Something she would never know, never feel before death claimed her.

His hand finally went limp, and she removed her hand from beneath his and walked away from the bed. She silently chastised herself for being selfish. It had been improper and wrong to let him kiss her and for her to want to know a kiss. She was ashamed of what she had done, and she would not let it happen again. She raised her fingers to her lips that seemed to still pulse from the kiss or was it that she was eager for more kisses?

Her grandmother had warned her often that it would not be easy for her to find a good husband. That most men feared or were skeptical of healers while other men could not abide a woman who was more knowledgeable than them. But her interest in healing grew, not lessened, as she matured and when she discovered she possessed a rare skill inherited from her great-grandmother, she knew there was no turning back. Healing was as necessary to her as a limb, always a part of her, always something she could rely on.

Shade glanced at Quint. He was a warrior and would leave here as soon as he was healed to fight another battle, and he had already given his heart to a woman and sounded as if he would never love again.

She sat silent, indulging in thoughts, dreams, possibilities. Perhaps she was approaching this all wrong. Healing meant constant learning, discovering new ways to help the ill. How could she truly help women with intimate problems if she never truly experienced intimacy and felt it for herself?

An excuse.Was it or was it a valid question for a healer to consider?

Quint woke with a stretch,stopping when he felt the pain in his arm. He looked around to find the room empty and sat up slowly. He pressed his hand to his brow and was pleased to find it cool. His fever had broken, and he had no intention of spending another day in bed. Or for that matter, spending another day here. He had a task to accomplish, and he needed to be on his way.

He got dressed, grabbing a few chunks of bread off the table to eat, downed three of the six quail eggs there, and washed it all down with cider. His sudden hunger was a good indication that he was healing nicely.

He took advantage of the clean water in the bucket near the hearth and scrubbed his face, then ran his fingers through his hair, raking out the knots to fall in a smooth wave to the top of his shoulders. He tied his belt with the three sheathed daggers attached around his waist but left his sword leaning against the narrow table under the lone window.

He needed to talk with the healer and settle his debt with her before he took his leave. He decided it would be good to couple with the healer after recalling a dream he had of kissing the only woman he would ever love. He had forgotten how amazing it had felt and while he did not expect to feel that way with the healer, bedding her would at least satisfy the sudden need his dream had produced.

The sun was shining to Quint’s surprise when he stepped outside. Not seeing Shade anywhere, he assumed she was tending to her garden, but first he wanted to check on his mare, Gillie. He looked around and not seeing his mare anywhere, he quickly headed to the garden to find out about his horse.

He heard her soothing voice before he reached the garden.

“Onions are your favorite, aren’t they? I have never seen a horse who didn’t enjoy the wild onions that grow abundantly in the fields.”

Quint heard his horse snort as if answering Shade and his mare’s head shot up just before he emerged from the woods.

“You’re up and about and look much better,” Shade said cheerfully, getting to her feet and brushing the soil off her hands against her apron. When she saw his eyes drift to his horse, she quickly explained. “I did not think you would mind your mare spending some time in the sun and enjoying a few wild onions.”

His mare neighed and bobbed her head.

“That was generous of you, Shade,” he said, pleased that she had tended to his horse as well as him.

“Not at all. She kept me company while I worked.” She walked toward him. “I left food on the table for you.”

“I had some, thank you.”

She stopped a distance from him, almost as if she feared getting any closer. “I can see you are eager to take your leave, but I advise that you remain at least one or two more days so I can make certain your wounds heal properly and your fever does not hide and wait to resurface.”

“I have a matter I must see to, but before I go, I wanted to settle my debt with you,” he said. “I have someplace I must be today, but I can be back by this evening and bed you properly.”

She had thought long about this moment, but in the end, her decision had come easily even more so hearing him talk about coupling as a debt he owed her.

“I will be direct, Quint,” she said firmly. “I have no desire to couple with you, nor do I need compensation for tending to your wounds.”

“But you said?—”

“Nay, I never invited you into my bed,” she said before he could once again mention bedding her. “You misunderstood. I do not bed men in exchange for my healing skills.”

Was that disappointment he felt? He shook his head. “I truly don’t mind bed?—”

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