Page 19 of A Highland Healer Captured
The girl tilted her head, unconvinced. “Folk say ye’re here because ye’ve powers.”
Skylar shook her head, still smiling. “The only powers I have are herbs, hot water, and patience. Nothin’ darker than that.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed a little, though her tone softened. “If ye’re nae a witch… then why did the laird bring ye? Is it true ye’re his new wife?”
Skylar nearly choked on air. “What?”
The incredulity burst from her in a laugh so sharp and startled it echoed against the stone walls. A wife? To Zander Harrison? The brute who had dragged her through storm and mud, who had shackled her freedom with no more thought than binding a hawk?
Saints preserve her, the very notion was absurd. And yet, traitorously, her mind betrayed her.
In an instant, unbidden, came the memory of him pinning her to the ground that night in the ruin. The weight of him pressed firm against her body, the raw heat of his chest against her cheek, the way his voice had rumbled when he growled her name.
Another flash. His broad hand cupping the reins above hers, his head bent low to kiss his son’s brow. The strength in him, the tenderness he had thought no one saw.
Skylar’s stomach lurched. She spun away from the child, fixing her eyes hard on the jars before her, as if the neat row of comfrey and willow could scrub those images from her head.
She was not here to think of Zander Harrison’s body. She was here to save his son and escape. Nothing more.
She dragged in a breath, forcing her voice calm. “Nay, lass,” she said, though the words caught. “I’m nae his wife. Heaven forbid.”
The girl was silent. Skylar felt the weight of her gaze on her back. She turned at last, ready to put the foolish rumor to rest, and maybe ask the girl her name.
But the doorway was empty.
Skylar frowned, moving quickly across the chamber. She pushed the door wider, peered into the stairwell. Empty. The only sound was Katie humming faintly down in the hall, the same tune she always seemed to hum when she sorted linens or stacked pots.
The girl had vanished.
Skylar’s lips pressed tight. She returned to the surgery, unsettled in a way she couldn’t name. She had meant to scold, to tell the lass not to repeat such wild gossip. Instead, she had been left with her own thoughts. Thoughts that betrayed her more cruelly than any whisper could.
She set her hands firmly on the worktable, staring down at the jars until the labels blurred. “I’m nae his wife,” she muttered under her breath. “Nae now, nae ever.”
But the heat that crept up her neck told another story, and Skylar hated herself for it.
7
Zander leaned against the edge of his desk, hands braced wide, staring down at the maps spread before him. The ink bled faintly where damp had touched it, curling at the corners. He hadn’t noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere… down the corridor, in the solar, where a MacLennan witch crouched over his boy.
Mason’s voice broke the silence. “Ye’ve stirred a hornet’s nest, Zan.”
Zander lifted his eyes. His oldest friend lounged in a chair, boots crossed at the ankles, looking for all the world as if they were discussing sheep, not war. But there was steel under his calm.
“They’ll be sharper than hornets,” Mason went on. “Crawford. Muir. MacLennan. Ye ken they’ll come rattling at yer gates once word gets out ye stole their lass.”
“I daenae care if the whole Highlands rattle at me gates,” Zander said flatly. “So long as Grayson breathes.”
Mason tilted his head. “And if they bring fire with them?”
Zander’s hands clenched the edge of the desk. “Then we put it out.”
Silence stretched. The fire crackled.
Mason leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I ken what ye’re feeling. But ye’re pacing the cliff’s edge, man. Kidnapping a laird’s daughter isnae a move ye can simply talk yer way out of.”
Zander’s chest ached. “Would ye have me watch him waste away? Another week, maybe two, and I’ll be carrying him to the kirkyard. I’ll nae do it. Nae again.”
Mason’s gaze softened. “Nay. I wouldnae ask it of ye.”
