Page 40 of The Irresistible Warrior
Her jaw tightened. “Is there harm in it if it brings comfort?”
“There is harm when comfort gives way to heresy,” he said, his tone sharpening just enough to cut. “A woman with a keen interest in plants and potions, making charms for protection… one might mistake such things for witchcraft.”
Declan stepped forward, his stance protective, his voice hard. “Enough. You’ll not accuse my wife on the weight of idle gossip that breeds fear.”
He moved to walk to his wife’s side and suddenly lost his footing. In an instant, he pitched forward… face-first onto the floor at Aura’s feet.
A startled gasp swept the hall. Declan pushed at the ground, trying to rise, but his arms trembled as though some unseen weight pressed him down.
Aura dropped to one knee beside him. “Declan?—”
“I’m fine,” he ground out, but when he tried again, he barely managed to lift himself before sinking back.
It wasn’t until Aura stepped away that he finally managed to get his knees beneath him and rise, his breathing tight.
The room buzzed with whispers.
“Like the women before…”
“The curse… it’s turned on him.”
Cleric William shook his head, his gaze never leaving Declan. “Your wife… has cursed you.”
For a heartbeat, the Great Hall was silent, the cleric’s words hanging heavy in the air. Then the murmurs began—soft, hissing, and urgent.
Aura’s back stiffened. “That is a lie,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest.
William’s eyes narrowed. “You are skilled with plants, talismans, potions. You’ve been to the ring of stones. And now the curse that once brought women to fall at his feet has turned upon him. If that is not your doing, whose is it?”
Declan stepped forward, placing himself squarely between them but a safe distance from Aura.
“Enough.” His voice rang through the hall, low and dangerous. “You’ll not speak of my wife that way again.”
William didn’t flinch. “I speak only what is plain to see.”
“Then perhaps your eyes don’t see clearly,” Declan shot back. “She is no witch. She is my wife, and she is under my protection.”
The whispers sharpened, darting from mouth to mouth like sparks seeking dry tinder.
Someone muttered, “Protection won’t save him if she’s cursed him.”
Declan turned, sweeping the crowd with a glare that made several drop their gaze to their boots. “Every man and woman in this hall know Aura has done nothing but help this village with her growing knowledge, from working with the healer to helping Ruth improve her cooking.”
Several people smiled and nodded at that as well as Ruth, who had stepped out of the kitchen along with other servants to listen to the cleric.
Declan continued. “And you think to repay her with lies and fear when she would be the first to offer you a helping hand?”
Hamish pushed forward, his voice sharp enough to cut through the rising whispers. “Enough of this! Every one of you knows how Aura’s knowledge has kept sickness at bay, healed wounds, and eased pain when nothing else would. And, aye, she has also made Ruth’s food enjoyable to eat. You’ve all sought her help at one time or another. How dare you doubt her now.”
There was a murmur of agreement, but William’s voice cut through it. “Tell me, where does that knowledge stem from?”
The question hung in the air, and a few heads began to nod, doubt creeping in where gratitude had been moments before.
Declan’s jaw tightened. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms but he could not risk another scene like the one just now—could not take the chance of stumbling at her feet again, not here, not in front of so many eyes that were judging her.
“Aura,” he said, his tone brooking no argument, “go to my solar. I’ll be there shortly.”
She caught the unspoken reason in his stern voice and hurried from the hall, the hem of her garments brushing the wood floor with her hasty steps.
