The Healer's Gift

by Willa Blair

At that moment, the healer arrived and looked from Coira and Elizabeth to Logen.

  The older woman’s surprise at finding the laird confronting them was clear to Coira. Then that surprise changed to amusement in a heartbeat, causing Coira to raise an eyebrow at her.

  “Perhaps ye’d like to join us, laird,” the healer told him. “With ye and another man or two, I’m sure we’ll be quite safe.”

  What? The healer was up to something. Coira could feel it. But there was nothing sinister in the healer’s emotions. Sly, yes, but not sinister.

  She could feel pleasure suffusing Logen as he considered the healer’s invitation. Well then, they would have an escort, and now she could be glad of it. Some time with Logen, away from the keep and the many watching eyes, might be good for both of them. Despite their differences, the attraction between them was real, and becoming harder for her to fight as Logen gave her what she’d asked for—space and time to gain control of her gift and her feelings.

  “If ye’ll pardon a few minutes of delay,” Logen answered, “we’ll go.”

  The healer inclined her head, sagely.

  Logen stepped away, signaling to two men who were crossing the bailey.

  Coira pulled her gaze back to the healer, not wanting to be caught staring after Logen. The healer gave her a small, secret smile, and Coira pursed her lips. Sly, indeed.

  Elizabeth set down her basket, so Coira did the same, glad to be freed from the burden for a few minutes. She glanced around, but no one ventured near. To Coira’s great relief, they didn’t seem to be attracting any attention.

  Before long, Logen and the other men returned with rations of their own, weapons, and plaids against a change in the weather.

  “Shall we?” He swept an arm toward the gate.

  Coira nearly laughed out loud. Suddenly, Logen was impatient to be gone. Very well. They picked up their burdens and headed out through the wall, across the surrounding meadow and into the cool green shade of the woods.

  ****

  Logen sent the other two men, Ross and Andrew, out to form a perimeter watch while he stayed near the women.

  Coira and her cousin moved ahead of the healer and separated, their attention on the ground as they searched for the plants the healer required. The healer moved more slowly, but with purpose, and found the first of their quarry before either of the younger lasses.

  Logen watched the three of them, confident in his instinct to escort them. All were so intent on their search, they paid no attention to their surroundings. Granted, the noise of their movement and their voices would scare away most creatures, but some predators would not be so easily dissuaded. And some roamed on two feet, not four.

  Logen was not surprised to note Coira moving away from the rest of the group. No doubt she would be seeking solitude along with plants for the healer. As long as he could see her, he was content to let her wander unchecked. But soon she moved out of sight, and he caught the attention of the other two men.

  “Ross, stay with the healer. Andrew, stay with Elizabeth. I’ll find Coira.”

  As soon as the two men acknowledged his order, Logen started after her. Flashes of movement ahead confirmed her trail. Coira could walk quickly, but he would not lose her, even in these woods.

  Nor would he give up the chance to be alone with her, away from the others.

  All during the time he’d done as she requested and left her alone, he had craved her touch. It soothed him. Made him feel calmer, more himself, and kept the anguish at bay that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. The anguish that had consumed him for months after Flodden and still caught him unawares at times. Coira’s touch healed the holes in his soul, if only for the brief time while she touched him.

  He would not force her to such closeness if she did not desire it. He could be strong. But here, in the silence of the deep woods, away from the clan, away from their small group, he hoped for a few moments of the peace Coira could give him. If she would.

  Again, he caught sight of her. She had stopped at the edge of a small clearing to pick from a patch of something growing in a spot of sunshine. She held a bunch of crinkly leaves to her nose and smiled as he approached.

  “I canna believe I found these. We’re lucky they’re still here for us to enjoy.”

  “Ye kent I followed ye.”

  “Of course.”

  Logen nodded. Of course. She’d have sensed him, even if she hadn’t heard him.

  “What do ye think?” She held out the bunch for him to sniff.

  The fresh, bracing scent surprised him. “Mint?”

  “Aye. Growing wild. A different smell...” She paused and touched a leaf to her tongue.

  Logen felt his body harden at the glimpse she gave him of its moist, pink tip.

  “And taste from what the healer grows in the keep’s garden.” She dropped the bunch into her basket and inhaled against her palm. “I love the way the scent lingers.”

  Logen took her hand and held it up to his face. Indeed, mint perfumed her skin. He was tempted to kiss her palm. The idea of it suddenly surged through him, firing his blood and tightening his groin even more. Aware of the blush stealing over her cheeks, he could not resist. He blew gently to tease her senses. Her sharp intake of breath rewarded him. Then he kissed her palm. Sucking lightly, he pulled the minty fragrance into his mouth, and when he heard her moan, only then did he lift his head. He glided his tongue across her palm to savor the taste of the mint on her skin, then released her hand, plucked another leaf, and rubbed it gently across her full lower lip as he asked, “More?”

  “Aye.” Her breathless answer parted her lips.

  Logen smiled. She had to be feeling the desire raging within him. “Ye are a brave lass to tease me so,” he told her before he allowed her to take the tip of the leaf into her mouth.

  She raised her eyebrow, her invitation clear.

  “I wish to share that one,” he warned as he allowed the leaf to fall between them and bent to kiss her.

  She lifted her arms and threaded her fingers into his hair.

  “Ach, that’s an ‘aye’, is it?” he challenged just before his lips met hers.

  In answer, she tugged him closer. Her kiss tasted as sweet as the last berries of summer, infused with the mint she had used to tease him. The heat from her mouth beckoned him to touch the tip of her tongue with his. When she pulled her body against his, he swept his tongue into her mouth, taking possession, and wrapped her in his arms. He didn’t need her special sense to know she welcomed him. Her body told him, as well as her taste, and her scent. The peace he’d hoped to find with her was there, but he’d found so much more.

  He wanted her and he would have her. But not here, not like this. He broke off the kiss and just held her, reveling in the feel of having this woman in his arms, welcoming him, soothing him, firing his blood. She deserved more than a tumble in the woods. He’d like nothing more than to lift her skirts and sink into her, to find the sweet oblivion that existed nowhere else. But nay, he thought as he dropped gentle kisses on her face, he would not use her that way. “Ye try me, lass,” he whispered into her ear and felt her shiver in his arms.

  “I do?”

  “Ye ken how ye make me feel. Ye canna mistake it.” He tipped her face up to his with a gentle finger under her chin.

  “Nay, I canna.”

  “Can we set aside everything else? Yer talent? The clan? For now?”

  “And just be? Aye.” She kissed him back, searing his lips with her breath.

  “When ye touch me, when I touch ye,” he continued, stroking the side of her face, “nothing else matters. It all goes away.”

  “I had hoped for that.”

  Logen wrapped her in his arms and held on for dear life. For the peace and tranquility that slowed his heart and settled his mind. She did care for him. She would not allow this if she did not, not after what she’d said on the beach. She risked much, knowing his feelings, his pain, his desire for her.

  “I want ye, Co
ira, past all reason. And I need ye, just ye. Can ye understand that?”

  Her hesitation stilled his heart, but then her hand slipped from his shoulder to cup his face. “I do understand, Logen. I feel what ye feel, after all. Even if I canna do everything ye wish for me to do, it doesna mean I dinna want ye. If I could be strong enough—”

  “Ye will, lass. Ye are, even though ye dinna trust yerself, yet.”

  “If only I could.”

  He covered her hand with his own and leaned his head into them. “Then I’d make love to ye as I truly wish to do. But I’d no’ take ye here, on the cold ground, where others may interrupt our coupling. Ye deserve a fine chamber, a warm fire, silken sheets, and furs piled high.”

  “I wouldna need those things.”

  “But I will give them to ye.” He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed each one in turn. “When the time is right.”

  Her cinnamon eyes were bright with unshed tears. “If that day ever comes. But Logen, I fear it never will.”

  ****

  Logen’s mouth on Coira’s palm set her whole body to tingling. His kiss melted her bones. She held on to him, certain she could no longer stand on her own. The fire that raged within him burned in her as well, making her weak, making her forget who he was. What he was. She could feel nothing but the desire sweeping through him. It heated her blood, overwhelmed her senses, and made her bold.

  “Dinna release me,” she warned. “I will fall.”

  “Have I harmed ye then?” The sudden cold fear that lapped at her senses mirrored the concern in his voice.

  “Nay, nay. Dinna fash.” The chill receded. Coira lifted a hand and touched Logen’s face yet again. His gaze burned into her as if he was trying to read her mind. She knew he could not do that, but the idea he wished to know her so well pleased her. “The opposite. Ye make me feel...things I’ve never felt before.”

  Logen stayed silent, his gaze moving over her face.

  The feelings flooding through him seemed to well up from his soul. His unspoken longing brought tears to her eyes and threatened to consume her. Coira’s throat tightened as her own impossible longings escaped her control, blending with his.

  He finally spoke. “Ye bring me peace. Did ye ken that? I desire ye. I canna hide it. But ye bring me peace.”

  “Ach, Logen.” She kissed him softly while her heart broke in two. “Ye make me wish to weep.” He was completely open to her, strong and confident, yet she only sensed his vulnerability. “No one has ever said anything like that to me. Has the Healer’s gift changed me so much, then?”

  “I think it was always a part of ye, lass, this caring.” He tipped her head back with a gentle finger, so her gaze met his. “Perhaps ye buried it deep under yer own pain, to protect yerself. The Lathan Healer broke down yer walls and helped ye find it again. She didna give ye anything ye didna already have.”

  Coira shrugged, unconvinced—though it was a beautiful thought, and Logen’s conviction of its truth pleased her. “If it helps ye, I’ll try to be content with it.”

  “Nay, Coira. I think she meant ye to find joy in it. To ken who ye could trust, who really cared for ye, who loved ye without reason, so ye would never again feel unwanted.”

  Coira laid her head on Logen’s shoulder and considered his words. “But I also ken who I canna trust. Who scorns me. Who hates me.”

  “And ye can avoid them, or if ye wish it, if ye think they’re worth the trouble, work to change their minds. Ye have the means to do that now.”

  “I hadna thought of it that way.”

  “Then I’m glad to have said it.” Logen stroked a hand through her hair, then lifted her chin again and gave her a wistful smile. “Ye still have our healer’s work to do. What will she think if we return with an empty basket?”

  Coira chuckled and stepped out of his embrace. It was all she could do not to step back into his arms. He’d said she gave him peace. With all her heart, she wanted that to be true. Because he gave her strength, and she needed his strength to keep her distance from him. After one last tender glance, she nodded and bent to pick up her nearly empty basket. “Ye have the right of it again. Verra well, let’s dig up some of this mint for the garden, then see what else we can find.”

  Chapter 7

  “Someone’s coming.”

  Logen barely heard Coira’s whisper, so deeply was he lost in the memory of her in his arms. But the words set him on immediate alert. “Who?”

  “I dinna ken, but I dinna think I like it. I thought I felt…but perhaps I was mistaken.” She shrugged, but her expression told him she was still concerned.

  Logen frowned and studied the woods around them. No one in their group had elicited a concern from Coira. Had someone else followed them? “How many?” He kept his voice low.

  She held up one finger. Then after a moment, four. “It must be Elizabeth, the healer and the guards. Aye, I recognize Elizabeth.”

  “Ye do? Does she seem upset?”

  Coira’s eyebrows lifted. “Nay.”

  “Keep picking, then. I’ll watch for them.”

  In moments, he saw movement through the trees and heard the sounds of four people moving through the woods—twigs snapping, bushes rustling.

  “Ah, here’s some!” Elizabeth’s voice carried through the undergrowth. Whatever they searched for, she’d found.

  “Elizabeth! Over here!” Coira’s exclamation startled Logen, but he should not have been surprised that she would summon her friend. He had resigned himself to the fact their time alone had ended. And now that it had, he wanted Coira to tell him which of the guards had caused her such disquiet.

  “That’s where the two of ye got off to,” Elizabeth exclaimed as she approached them.

  “Aye, and look at what we found!” Coira held up her basket brimming with herbs and roots.

  A bit eagerly, Logen thought, but he hoped no one noticed.

  Logen traded glances with the healer, who gave him a knowing smile, eyebrows raised as she glanced to Coira and back. Logen should have been irritated by her presumption, but relief flooded him instead. Perhaps there would be one person in the clan who would not object to the idea of Coira and him together. He kept his expression impassive and turned his attention to the two guards. Both seemed intent on the surrounding forest, as they should be. Coira did not seem to be concerned by their presence. She and Elizabeth were busy comparing the contents of their baskets.

  “A successful outing, laird?”

  The healer’s question, asked as she moved to stand next to him and regard the lasses, could have seemed innocent enough, but Logen knew from her smile a moment ago that she had something besides foraging in mind. He chose to take the high road and ignore her implication. “It appears so. ’Tis good the autumn has been mild so far. I’m surprised ye had such success this late in the season.”

  “It seems we all did.”

  He kept his gaze on Coira and Elizabeth, but felt the healer shift beside him.

  “She’s a riddle, our Coira. But worth the effort.”

  “Ye think so?” What was the healer trying to tell him?

  “She’s been hurt, healed, and changed by it. Much as ye have been.”

  That brought him up short. “I havena changed.”

  “Aye, Logen MacDugall, ye have. I remember the lad who left here all those years ago. Anger over yer parents’ deaths drove ye to fight anything that moved. Eventually, ye learned how to win. That may have saved yer life at Flodden, but since then, ye think before ye decide to resort to violence. An admirable trait in a laird, if ye want my opinion, and one lacking in the last three who graced the high table by treachery.”

  Logen swallowed, forcing back the bile that rose at the mention of Flodden. “We’ve no’ seen the last of that.”

  “Nay, and those who remain have learned to keep quiet and carefully choose their time to strike.”

  “Who are they?” The healer passed almost unnoticed among the clan. Perhaps she’d heard things.<
br />
  “I wish I could tell ye. I dinna ken. But whoever leads them is crafty. And careful.”

  “Ye have some ye suspect.”

  “Aye. Watch yer back, laird. Fortunes have changed with the slash of a dirk.”

  ****

  Coira breathed a sigh of relief that Elizabeth seemed focused on the late-season bounty they’d discovered, rather than on the fact that she and Logen had been alone for quite some time. As fast as Elizabeth talked, it was clear what they had found excited her.

  Logen and the healer were deep in conversation, but she couldn’t hear them over her chatty companion.

  “Let’s try this way,” Elizabeth said at the end of a long, breathless sentence.

  Coira realized she intended to head off into the woods again. Why not? They were out here for that reason. Coira let her take the lead, but as Elizabeth moved away, something else started to invade Coira’s senses.

  Hatred. Not heated fury. Cold, calculating hatred that she recognized. Coira froze in her tracks. Where? One of their guards? Why had she not sensed this before? The person who’d pitched Logen overboard into shallow water was here. She spun in time to see Elizabeth’s guard draw his sword and rush at Logen and the healer.

  Coira screamed a warning, but Logen was already pulling his claymore and moving away from the healer, drawing his attacker with him. Coira ran to the healer and pulled her back so that several trees provided a barrier between them and the combatants. Elizabeth had run up at Coira’s scream and now stood at her side. “Where’s the other guard?”

  Ach nay! Was he in league with the attacker and trying to get behind Logen? Coira searched the surrounding area with her eyes and her empathy. There! Thank goodness, he was making his way toward them while keeping one eye on the two men fighting. Intent on his duty to protect them? She couldn’t tell yet. Elizabeth’s fear and excitement were too close, too loud. Coira reached for the healer, hoping to find calm, but a deep sense of foreboding swirled like a whirlpool in open ocean, treacherous, ready to pull her into its depths. Nay! The healer had given up on Logen, but Coira would not.

  She stepped away from the other two women. The healer’s guard, intent on the combatants, radiated concern—but for whom? At least he wasn’t trying to interfere, so Coira turned her attention back to Logen. He fought with cool precision, blocking each attempt to injure him or take his life. The guard was neither as skilled nor as lucky. In moments, Logen backed his attacker against a tree, his dirk’s edge against the man’s throat while his sword braced against the man’s sword arm, preventing him from using the weapon.