Page 36 of Highlander's Captive Bride
“That is some tale. Now I understand why Violet means so much to ye and why it’s so important to ye to get home to help her.” Bellamy took her chin gently in his fingers and tilted it up so she looked into his eyes. “Thank ye for sharing all this with me, Daisy, when ye didnae have to tell me anything. I feel bad for kidnapping ye the way I did and keeping ye from Violet for so long,” he admitted with sorrow in his eyes. “But I cannae ask ye to forgive me, for I’d so the same in a heartbeat to save Elodie.”
“Aye, I ken. Still, ’tis a great pity we cannae turn back the clock on that,” Daisy said with regret for the men who had died protecting her, while at the same time feeling somehow lighter for having told him about her past.
She felt a strange urge to comfort him as he had comforted her.
“But ’tis worth remembering that Fergus ordered the attack on yer men first. Maybe if we had been able to talk a bit more, and ye had had the chance to tell me about Elodie, I would have come with ye of me own free will.”
“Aye,” he agreed with a small smile that spoke of gratitude.
“So, now ye ken how I became the great healer everyone says I am, though I’m nae so sure of it meself,” she said finally.
“Ye’ve certainly been devoted to yer art,” Bellamy observed, and Daisy warmed to hear the admiration in his voice.
She laughed lightly. “Ye dinnae think me a witch, then, with all me special healing powers?” she asked jokingly. “’Tis what many folks think, though they’re only too eager for me to cure them when they’re poorly.”
He nodded. “Aye, I suppose that’s the case. Folks are superstitious,” he said, tightening his hold on her arm as they navigated a small rocky outcrop. “But nae, I dinnae think ye’re a witch, though ye have many powers to heal. For one thing, witches are supposed to be ugly, old crones, with warts on their noses, are they nae?”
Daisy laughed at that, feeling lighter of heart than she had since leaving Castle Rottrich.
“Now, if that’s true,” he added matter-of-factly, “ye cannae be a witch, for ye’re far too bonny.”
Daisy’s pulse quickened further, and a warm thrill shot up her spine as his words sank in. She found she could not resist responding.
She stopped, so he had to stop, too. She looked up at him. “Are ye trying to butter me up with yer compliments?” she asked, knowing she was being flirtatious but quite unable to stop herself.
“Why d’ye ask? Do I need to butter ye up?” Bellamy asked back, gazing down at her with a lazy grin on his face.
As his gaze dwelled intensely upon her, Daisy’s eyes wandered admiringly over the curve of his cheekbones and the firmness of his lips. She suddenly felt far hotter than the warm day justified.
“D’ye nae like me compliments?” Bellamy added, his voice soft and enticing. His warm breath fanned against her skin as he moved closer and raised his hand, gently brushing the back of one finger across her cheek.
The tiny touch was electric, knocking the breath out of her and making her whole body sing like the plucked string of a fiddle.
As if he had put a match to oil, the flame inside her which he had lit with his kisses leaped to life again, flaring hotly in her belly. Daisy suddenly wanted so badly to feel his lips on hers again. She leaned towards him, rising on tiptoe, while Bellamy bent his head, clearly with the same idea in mind.
“Da! Daisy!” came the sudden call.
In one swift movement, they instantly straightened and moved apart.
“She’s awake,” Bellamy murmured hoarsely, turning to look behind them.
“Aye,” Daisy breathed, the fire in her belly dying down as she followed suit.
Elodie was waving at them merrily from her chair.
Daisy waved back with as much cheer as she could muster, unable to help the disappointment welling within her. The sudden interruption had brought her back to herself somewhat. It was almost as if she had woken up from a dream herself—an impossible dream.
“Let’s go back,” she murmured.
They returned to Elodie’s side, and the three of them spent another pleasant hour or so polishing off the food and drink. By the time they finished, Daisy felt a little tipsy again.
“Ye’ve done well today, lass,” Bellamy told Elodie as he and Daisy began packing things away into the basket in a leisurely fashion. “Ye’ve eaten well, and ye havenae been sick. How are ye feeling, eh? D’ye think our picnic has done ye some good?”
Elodie nodded enthusiastically and beamed at him and Daisy. “Aye, I do feel better, Da. I havenae felt sick all day,” she told them.
“That’s wonderful, Elodie,” Daisy said, her heart warmed by what seemed, at face value, to be good news.
It occurred to her that the sickness, whatever it was, might be something temporary, that it would eventually burn itself out, so that Elodie would recover by herself. It was unlikely in her experience, but she supposed it was possible.
