“Stay as you are, Doria!” Craven ordered, pointing his finger at her.
Doria obeyed and with Espy’s help lowered her back down on the bench.
Craven stepped in front of Espy and brought his face close to hers. “What are you doing?”
She stared at his lips, moist and full, and the memory of his powerful kiss came flooding back, fluttering her stomach, quickening her heart, and had her struggling to find her voice.
It was not anger that had Craven glaring at her, it was the reminder of how sweet and luscious her lips had tasted last night when he had kissed her. Damn if he did not want to kiss her again. Annoyed at himself, he barked at her more roughly than he intended. “Answer me now.”
His terse tone so startled her that she snapped back, “Your people came to me for help. They need a healer.”
“And they should trust you?”
“I trust her.”
Craven and Espy both turned to look at Doria.
“Forgive me, my lord, but I have lost two bairns. They did not even take a breath at birth. I do not want to lose another. The women talk about how Espy turned the bairn in Britt’s stomach and delivered him safely. Not many healers can do that. I want a healer who will fight to deliver my child alive. Please, my lord, I beg you, let her tend me.”
Craven heard his wife’s words in Doria’s and how she had begged him to let Espy tend her at delivery. He had agreed and looked what had happened. He turned away and was met with expectant faces, all waiting to see what his word would bring.
He saw then what he had not noticed before… clansmen who needed help. One person’s eye was swollen so badly he could not see out of it and it was not bruised. Another had his arm wrapped with a blood-stained cloth. There was a child with red blotches covering the whole side of his face and a pale, wee lass, her head resting on her mother’s shoulder, and the worried mother looking at him with pleading eyes.
Craven turned to Espy, though spoke loud enough for all to hear. “You might as well make yourself useful while you are my prisoner. Tend the ill.” He brought his face close to hers once again. “Save Doria’s bairn and I might let you live.”
He turned and walked away, not understanding why he was offering her a reprieve when he had yet to determine if she was guilty of his wife’s death. Or was he realizing that all signs pointed to her not being responsible? If so, who was responsible? Who could he blame? Or was there no one to blame but himself?
“Most grateful, Lord Craven.”
“Bless you, Lord Craven.”
Craven barely heard the words of gratitude that followed him through the hall from those waiting patiently to see Espy. He was too lost in his dark thoughts.
Espy watched Craven walk away, his powerful gait having lost its anger. She turned her head sharply when she felt a hand grasp her arm and she looked to see Doria, tears running down her cheeks.
“You will deliver my bairn safely and deliver your own salvation.”
Chapter 9
“That is the third practice pole you have felled in two days,” Dylan said, shaking his head.
Craven drew his forearm across his brow, wiping the sweat away and looked down at the felled pole he had toppled with a battle axe. “Did you send that message?”
“I did, and it should not take long to hear that Edward MacPeters is now physician to Laird Eason.”
“The Clan MacLagan?” Craven asked and Dylan nodded. “When did that come about?”
“I do not know, but we can ask him when he arrives in about two weeks as long as Eason doesn’t object to your request that the physician be sent here. Though, I see no reason why he would.”
“I wonder why MacPeters did not return to Edinburgh,” Craven said, resting the battle axe against the bench and snatching his shirt off it, though he did not slip it on. “He had come highly recommended, though I was warned that he would not journey to the Highlands.”
“You can be persuasive,” Dylan said.
“When necessary. How are your son and Britt?” Craven asked, leaving the practice field with Dylan walking alongside him. They had been talking more since the birth of his son, discussing clan matters daily as they once did, and Craven was pleased. They had grown up more like brothers than friends and he had not realized how much he had missed that strong bond. Or how much he had allowed grief to steal it from him.
Dylan beamed with pride. “He is good and has a strong cry and stronger appetite. Britt is good as well. There is no keeping that woman down.”
Craven stopped suddenly and Dylan looked to see why.
There was a line of people waiting to enter the keep.
“I heard Espy was tending the ill and those in need,” Dylan said.
Craven turned to him, openly admitting what had just dawned on him. “I have allowed my grief to steal far too much from me and the clan.”
“It has been a difficult time for you, but your grief is finally passing and you have begun to embrace your duties once more.”
“Like this one I am about to tend to,” he said as he took powerful strides toward the line of people, and Dylan followed behind him, shaking his head.
Faces paled as those in line moved to the side to let Lord Craven pass and whispers started to travel up and down the line, many worried that the beast’s sharp tongue would strike and stop the gentle healer from helping them.
Craven stopped a short distance from where Espy stood by a table in the Great Hall. Her long, dark hair was braided, though falling loose, several strands having already fallen free, looking as if it was about to come completely undone. Her cheeks were flushed red, her smile gentle, and her soft blue eyes were filled with just as much tenderness as her voice when she spoke. But what caught his attention the most was the caring and loving way Espy held the wee lass in her arms, swaying as if to a soft melody and rubbing her little back as she did.
Espy not only had a loving heart but a tender soul. So how could such a woman have killed his wife? The more and more he saw of Espy and her kind ways, the more he believed her innocent in the death of his wife. His troubled thoughts slowed his gait, though the strength of them remained. He no longer appeared like a man charging into battle, though his lack of a smile gave one pause.
It did not take the tiny lass long once she caught sight of him to begin crying and instead of reaching out for her mum, the little lass threw her arms around Espy’s neck and clung to her.
Craven silently cursed himself for frightening the wee bairn and he attempted a smile and kept his tone gentle as he came to a stop in front of them. “It is a brave little lass we have here.”
The lass peeked out at him and he titled his head, narrowing his brow for a moment. She looked familiar and he looked to the lass’s mum. He realized then that he had seen them both. They had been on line the first day Espy had started tending people.
“Espy has helped you feel better?” he asked, his smile growing without difficulty.
The little lass raised her head and smiled with delight. “My tummy does not hurt anymore.”
Craven’s smile spread as the little lass’ smile stretched from ear to ear, highlighting the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks as her bright red hair sprung in curls around her head. That she was happy and well, pleased Craven.
“We are all so grateful, my lord, that we now have a healer here at the keep to tend us,” the lass’ mum said.
Craven looked to Espy and his smile faded some as he saw that her smile could not hide the fatigue in her lovely eyes, and the thought that she had tired herself looking after his clan that he had neglected disturbed him. She was giving all she could to his clan without thought to herself. She truly was selfless.
“I am pleased to know that Amber does well, Ellen, “Craven said with a gentle tap of his finger to Amber’s tiny nose, making the lass giggle.
Espy was surprised that Craven knew not only the mum’s name, but the little lass’ one as well. And from the look on Ellen’s face, she
was also surprised. She handed Amber to her mum. “She does well, Ellen. There is no need for more of the brew.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much, Espy,” Ellen said and with a nod to Craven, the woman hurried off.
“You know Ellen and Amber,” Espy said.
“These are my people, my family. I know many of them since I was young.”
Espy nodded, her hand going to her mouth to stifle a yawn.
“Have you eaten or rested at all today?” he asked.
She shook her head, he surprising her again with the concern in his voice.
Craven caught other signs of her fatigue in the slight slump of her shoulders and the way her eyes had lost some of their usual shine. They were minor changes, but noticeable, to him at least, and he wondered why he could spot them.
“You cannot keep tending people,” —he rushed his finger to press at her lips when she went to speak— “here in the keep. I will see that you have a cottage to use.” He lowered his voice. “You will see that you get rest and that you eat. You will also continue to sleep in the keep.”
Her warm, moist lips tingled the tip of his finger and sent his lips aching and tingles shooting down to tease his manhood unmercifully.
Damn, but he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he wisely turned and walked away without a word, his desire to kiss her much too strong for him to remain there and ignore it. What was it about the woman that made him want to kiss her, touch her, and aroused him much too fast? He had hated her this past year more than he had ever hated in his life. Yet now he found himself… he shook his head. How was it that he was feeling such desire for this woman? It had been too long for him, too long without a woman, though not any woman—his wife. After Aubrey, the thought of a fast poke with a woman did little for him. He wanted to feel, feel deep when he buried his manhood in a woman. He had known when he lost Aubrey he would never know that depth of love again. Would never want a woman with the hungry passion that he had wanted Aubrey… until Espy.
When he passed Dylan, he said, “Find her a cottage she can use for her healing. Make sure it is close to the keep.”
He was keeping her close. Lord help him, he was keeping her much too close.
Espy sat on the edge of the bed, fighting sleep. Her head bobbed with it and her body ached for it, and she needed it. Tomorrow would be a busy day. Dylan had taken her to a cottage that would be perfect for her. It needed cleaning, but she planned on rising early and seeing to it. She also was hoping that her grandmother would be permitted to visit. She had heard that Howe would be released from the stocks soon and she feared him going after her grandmother since as far as she knew Bonnie was still there with her. Then there was the help she would need. These were things she wanted to discuss with Craven and so she fought sleep, waiting for him to seek his bedchambers so she could speak to him.
It grew ever later and ever more difficult to keep her head up and her eyes open.
“Do you fight the nightmares?”
Espy jumped up off the bed, her hand going to her chest, her heart beating so madly she thought it would break free.
“I frightened you,” Craven said from the open doorway.
“I have waited for you,” she said, not bothering to answer his question since he did frighten her but not in the way he thought.
“Why?” he asked, stepping into the room and filling it with his massive presence.
“There were some things I wished to ask you,” she said, feeling the coward for drawing back away from him, his looming presence much too intimidating in this confined space. Or was he much too inviting?
He folded his arms across his naked chest, the muscles there and in his arms sprinkled with what Espy thought were dewdrops, the fire’s light making them glisten. His dark hair barely brushed his shoulders and was wet. Had he just bathed? When a fresh scent tickled her nose, she knew the answer and she envied him. She wished she could bathe, instead of using a washing jug to see to keeping clean.
“I am waiting.”
He startled her out of her musings and she silently chided herself for letting her thoughts drift off. She dared not step closer to him since she had the overpowering urge to lick the dewdrops off him and that was such a foreign thought to her that she wondered where it had come from.
“With so many needy people to look after, I was hoping it would be permissible to have someone help me,” she said, glad she was able to speak without her voice quivering. “If it is permissible, I was hoping I could request Tula. Also, I would so appreciate it if my grandmother would be allowed to visit with me. I worry with Howe being released from the stocks soon that he will go after her and harm her.” She rushed her hand to her mouth to cover the yawn that unexpectedly crept up on her.
He did not answer her. He stood there and stared in thought, annoyance, disinterest? Or had his dark eyes softened? A strange thought that left her wondering.
“You are tired. You need sleep.”
That may be so, but sleep was not her friend and after what happened with Craven the other night, she feared even more going to sleep only to wake clinging to him. Not that she had not found it pleasant, it had been more than pleasant and that was the problem.
“Do you fight the nightmares?”
Espy had not answered him when last he asked and she would not answer him now. “You are right. I am tired and need sleep.”
That she would not even acknowledge his question told him that she was keeping something from him, and he did not like secrets. Secrets never failed to cause problems. He would find out sooner or later.
“Good-night then,” Craven said and turned.
“Will you grant my requests,” she asked, but her question followed him out the door unanswered. He did to her what she had done to him, ignored the question.
Espy was surprised to not only see Tula but three other women already at work cleaning the cottage when she arrived. She was also surprised to see that the cottage was larger than she had expected and it had two windows. What she liked most though was the large garden on the side that ran the length of the cottage and had good width to it. She could grow many of the plants and herbs she needed there.
Tula waved from the door, a broad smile on her face, and hurried toward her. “Lord Craven instructed me to serve you. That is my daily chore now to help you and I am thrilled to do so.”
Espy’s smile showed how pleased she was as well that Craven had granted her request. “You will make an excellent helper.”
Tula nodded vigorously. “I will work hard, for I enjoy helping you much more than working in the kitchen.” She turned to the three women who had stepped out of the cottage and waited behind her.
“This is Faye and you know Elva and Mina. They have come to help prepare the cottage. More women will be joining us as well and some of their husbands will arrive to make some needed repairs.”
“How generous of all of you,” Espy said, looking to each woman. “I appreciate the help.”
“When word spread that you were to get a cottage where you would tend the ill, everyone rejoiced. It has been difficult for many of us to visit Cyra,” —Tula lowered her voice— “and many were fearful that Lord Craven would grow angry if they did.”
“You have brought good changes in such a short time,” Faye said, her cheeks growing fuller with her wide smile and highlighting her pretty features.
“I have brought no change,” Espy said, wondering what the woman meant.
“You have,” Mina said with a firm nod. “Everyone has seen it. Even before Lord Craven brought you to the keep things had begun to change for the better.”
“You have quieted the beast and we are grateful,” Elva said, a tear in her eye.
“We must get to work,” Tula ordered, a tear in her eye as well as she shooed the women into the cottage.
Espy stared after them, too shocked by their words to move. She had done no such thing, had she?
Tula turned in the doorway, waving at Espy to join them. “Come
and see. It will make a good healing cottage.”
Espy hurried forward, chasing the ridiculous thought from her head.
While work went on around her, Espy saw to tending those who sought her healing skills. She also shared a brief repast with the women who came to help, enjoying the talk and laughter. She had forgotten the camaraderie a clan, a village, a family provided, and she realized how very much she had missed it.
The women drifted off when it drew nearer the evening meal and shortly after the last woman left, Tula told her it was time for them to return to the keep.
“Go on ahead, I will be there shortly,” Espy said. She wanted a moment alone in the cottage to gather her thoughts.
Tula seemed reluctant to leave her. “Lord Craven will expect you.”
“I will not be long. I just want a moment,” Espy assured her.
Tula smiled, nodded, and took her leave.
Aubrey had been mentioned now and again when the women had talked and not a bad word had been spoken about her. She had been admired and respected, which was what Espy had seen for herself for the brief time she knew Aubrey. That would rule out anyone hating Aubrey enough to want her dead. So why would someone want her dead?
Through the years, Espy had seen the greed and heartlessness in people and more than once she had seen a life taken for the purpose of gaining wealth, for power or simply for revenge.
So the question begged, what benefit had served Aubrey’s death?
Craven would inherit MacVarish land because of his marriage to Aubrey, but he would inherit whether Aubrey was alive or dead. So there would be no reason for him to want his wife dead. Besides, everyone knew how much he loved her.
She wondered if Craven knew anything of Aubrey’s life before she came to live with her uncle. Could there be something in Aubrey’s past that could be the reason for someone wanting her dead? Or could someone have wanted revenge against Craven and took it by killing Aubrey?
“Were you not told to go to the keep?”
Espy jumped and turned away from the small fire burning in the hearth to see Craven standing a short distance from her, the door to the cottage closed behind him. Espy’s heart began to quicken in her chest as the once good-sized cottage suddenly began to close in around her.
To Love A Highlander (Highland Warriors Book 1) Page 8