Page 47 of A Highland Healer Captured
She risked a glance. His eyes were on her mouth again. Saints, he was shameless.
“Daenae look at me like that,” she whispered, a warning to herself as much as him.
He didn’t move. “Like what?”
“Ye ken what I mean, Zander. Daenae continue to make this harder.”
His gaze flicked to the boy, then back to her. “I willnae. Nae here.”
The quiet that followed wasn’t empty. It carried the shape of something that might destroy them both if they let it, and the comfort of knowing they would not, at least not while a child slept between them.
She breathed. Counted to ten. Let her shoulders drop.Heal him,she told herself.Then run. Or run, then heal what ye can after. But choose.
She would not be the woman who drew hope from a man’s mouth and left a cousin to fight fever alone. And yet Grayson’s small fingers had curled in her skirt without waking.
At last the wind turned and brought with it the smell of the kitchens beginning to wake. Grayson stirred, opened his eyes, and smiled, and Skylar decided she could live with guilt for another hour if it bought him one more laugh.
They did not speak of the Kirn. They did not speak of escape. They did not speak of kisses or vows or who owed whom what. They packed up crusts and cheese rinds and the cup, and Zander lifted the boy and took him in with a care that made Skylar’s throat feel strange.
By the time they crossed the yard again, her mind was already turning like a mill wheel.Draught this evening, steam before sleep, keep him raised on pillows, check pulse at dawn.
And Ariella. Always Ariella. The name beat time under every plan.
She told herself thatif the boy is stronger before the Kirn, it’s working, and I’ll be able to go. Even though, the Kirn will hide me steps, Katie will nae be looking, and the west gate will be mine.
Then she told herself she was monstrous for thinking it while Grayson’s small head rested against Zander’s shoulder next to her.
Skylar managed to be both monster and healer until midday. Zander was called away by Mason on clan matters, and so he snuck away between his son’s soft snores.
Katie urged her back to her chambers, next, as she helped Grayson back into the solar. “I’ve got this. I’ll call if anythin’ changes,” she said smiling widely and even shooing Skylar back to her chambers.
Grateful for the break, Skylar bathed and let herself find slumber.
“What is it?” Zander said in a hushed voice, as he closed the distance across the glen to meet Mason.
“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s about a week until Kirn and there are villagers here with… issues.”
“Issues?”
“Aye,” Mason said, rubbing his temples. “I’ve tried to ease them, but a lot of it is up to ye.”
“I see… where are they?” Zander asked, gazing around the courtyard.
“They’re in the great hall.”
“I see,” he said quickly, and both men strode back into the keep.
Zander had learned long ago that a laird’s work was half steel and half listening. Today, Kirn a week off, it felt like three-quarters listening and the rest holding the hall together with the weight of his patience.
They’d barely stepped through the great hall when the first knot of petitioners surged up from the long tables—folk from Balmachrie by their plaid and badges—talking over one another with the frantic speed of people who’d rehearsed their complaints on the road.
Behind them waited a line from Glen Caillich, and further back he saw faces he knew from the scattered hamlets that clung to Strathcairn like moss to rock: Achnadarroch, Knocklea, Little Corrie, and the tiny clutch of crofts at Burnfoot.
Mason lifted two fingers. The room hushed on reflex. “One at a time,” Zander said, taking the dais step and planting his boots wide. “Balmachrie first. Speak plain.”
A wiry crofter with windburned cheeks shoved his cap in his hands. “Laird, the Glen Caillich men turned their ewes onto our stubble after cutting, and the beasts made straight for the kale. We posted boys to beat them off with switches, but Robbie MacRaw’s lad swung back at mine —”
A lad with Caillich braids blurted, “We only took the stubble as is right by the old accord, and if the kale was next door to it, well, kale’s a temptin’ sin for a hungry ewe, nay?”
