MacAlister’s Hope (Kilmartin Glen)

CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter Five

Fia pressed herself into the warm embrace of her bed. A familiar spicy-fresh scent wrapped around her, though she could not remember where it came from. Someone whispered her name and ran a callused hand down her arm, but she was so comfortable, so tired, she refused to rouse. Fingers twined with hers then, drawing her hand up. The softest, feather-light kiss skimmed across her knuckles, sending tendrils of desire through her sleep-fogged mind.

“Fia-love?”

The voice was close and tender, like a lover’s, in her dream. Another kiss, this time upon her forehead, just as soft. Such a lovely dream. She instinctively raised her lips to meet that kiss. Warm lips touched her own, but oh so gently.

“Fia, ’tis time to wake.” The words were whispered against her mouth, his lips never leaving hers.

His lips…

Fia opened her eyes and found herself staring into Kieron’s emerald gaze. He smiled at her and ran his palm over her cheek.

“You have slept most of the afternoon away, sweetheart. I would not wake you if ’twas not necessary, but the chief—” He nodded toward the bed and Fia gasped.

“The whole afternoon? Nay! I did not mean—“

“You did not mean what, lass?” The voice came from behind her where the MacKenzie chief was sitting up, watching them with a twinkle in his eye.

“I did not mean to shirk my duty, sir.” Fia leapt out of Kieron’s lap, suddenly aware that she did not know how she had come to be in it, but so pleased to see the chief much improved that she did not stop to question Kieron.

A quick check told her that the fever-shine was gone from his eyes—in fact, the swelling in his left eye was lessened enough that she could see both eyes now—and the grey pallor of his skin had been replaced with the beginnings of a healthy glow. And though there was still the telltale grimace when he adjusted the blanket, the pain was so much less than before, that he banished it and quickly replaced it with a genuine smile.

“How are you feeling?” she asked the chief.

“I dinna feel like dying anymore.”

Fia laughed. “An improvement to be sure!”

Kieron joined her at the bedside.

“Chief,” he said, “this is Fia MacLachlan. She is responsible for your return to health.”

Fia slanted a look at Kieron and cocked her head. “I am not entirely responsible.”

“Do not let her modesty fool you, chief.” Kieron smiled at her and took her hand. “She alone figured out how to help you.”

The chief was nodding his head as he watched them. “Then she should be rewarded, for I thought for sure there was a fire burning through me from the inside out. I have been wounded in battle more than once, but never have I felt such pain. You are an angel, lass, and you have my thanks. What would you wish of me?”

Surprised, Fia looked from the chief to Kieron and shook her head. “Nothing,” she finally said to the chief, who looked well pleased with himself, though she knew not why. “I want for nothing, except to return to my home now that you are better, and Kieron has already promised me that.”

The chief raised his eyebrows. “I think you want for something beside your home. When you decide, tell Kieron. I am sure he’ll be able to provide your reward.” The man actually winked his good eye at Kieron. “For now,” the chief continued, “I think a celebration is in order.”

“You cannot—“

“I can sit in a chair as easily as I sit in this bed, can I not, healer-lass?”

“But—“

“But nothing. Kieron, tomorrow evening we celebrate. See that it happens, aye? And I promise,” he reached for Fia’s free hand and gave it a squeeze, “to do naught but sit and enjoy not being in pain anymore.”

Fia had never felt so at home as she did standing by the chief’s bed with Kieron’s hand in hers. Yet guilt clogged her throat so much she could barely swallow, for she could never claim she was not loved and cared for at Kilmartin. Elena and Symon had taken her in when her mother died, raised her as one of their own, but even so, in Kilmartin she was always Wee Fia the orphan, or Wee Fia Elena’s shadow. Here in Kilglashan she had no past. Here there were no expectations of who or what she was beyond her healing abilities. Here she was needed. Here she found… She looked up at Kieron, only now aware that he was still talking to the chief.

Here she’d found love.

The feelings that had grown so swiftly in her for this man stunned her and unnerved her, for she did not know how she would be able to part from him when she returned to Kilmartin. And she must return to Kilmartin soon.

Would he stay there with her? She knew he had a grandmother who was dear to him, but she did not ken what his responsibilities were towards her. She realized she really knew little of him—if his parents were alive, if he had brothers or sisters, what his position was here in Kilglashan. Was he to be Tavish’s champion when Tavish became chief? Could he leave behind this place and these people to live in Kilmartin with her? Would he?

Fia knew she could not stay here, even if he wished her to. She had her own responsibilities to mind at Kilmartin. She owed her loyalty to Elena and Symon for the life and family they’d given her. Mairi was not fully trained in the art of herbs, and Elena needed Fia’s help minding the younger girls and the bairn due anytime now. And Elena had come to depend upon Fia to assist her in her healings, saving the Lamont gift for those ailments most dire.

Kieron squeezed her hand, drawing her attention away from the future and back to the moment. “I promised I would return her to Kilmartin when you were well,” he said to the chief, though there was a heaviness to his voice that matched her own mood. “You can show the women how to make the salve for the blisters that remain, can you not, Fia?”

She tried to smile but could only nod. Fia took a moment to gather herself, to pull herself back from the precipice of sorrow that just the thought of leaving Kieron and his village created deep in her soul. She would not waste the time she had with him by dwelling on the future.

“I will make a batch of the salve tomorrow and show them how ’tis done.” She leaned against him, their hands still clasped together. “But for now, I would see you drink some broth, chief, then rest. I ken you feel better, but the fever and pain has taken a toll upon you that will take more than a few days to recover from.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” the chief said. “Kieron tells me you have not slept a full night since you arrived here and I can plainly see your fatigue.”

“I am fine,” she said.

“I am the MacAlister.” His voice was a determined boom in the chamber that demanded her attention. “Kieron, summon one of the women to watch over me while you make sure my healer gets a proper sleep, then I suggest you introduce her to your grandmother, unless you have already done so.”

A fond smile lit up Kieron’s face, different from the smile he gave Fia, but just as deeply felt. “Fia has not left your side from the moment she came here, except to work in the stillroom now and then. I would like her to meet my grandmum,” he said squeezing Fia’s hand in his.

“And I’m sure your granmum will be most interested to meet her,” the chief said. “Now go.”

Before Fia could speak, Kieron pulled her toward the door. “You heard the chief,” he said. “I had a bath prepared for you, then ’tis high time you slept, and I am tasked with making sure you do.” The man had the audacity to waggle his brows, drawing a smile from her, and creating a pleasant tingling under her skin, as he dragged her away.

A few hours later, Kieron watched as Fia slumbered. His heartbeat was slow and steady as a deep peacefulness filled him with a sense of wellbeing and hope for his future. He had left her alone only long enough for her to bathe and rest in the chamber next to the chief’s, while he set the celebration preparation in motion and made sure Tavish knew of his father’s returning health.

And then he had returned to watch over Fia.

As he’d sat there, watching her breath move in and out, admiring the charming way she rested her face in one hand while the other curled under her chin, he’d had plenty of time to mull over the paradox of his feelings about the chief’s recovery. On one hand, he was relieved and happy that the chief was no longer in pain and would soon be able to resume his duties as head of the clan. On the other, he was heavy-hearted that it signaled the time for Fia to leave Kilglashan, to leave him—unless he could convince her to return once Elena had delivered her bairn.

The chief had gained Kieron an extra day with her when he proclaimed the celebration would be held on the morrow, for neither of them could leave the village until after that. But ’twas only one more day and Kieron itched to wake her, to hear her voice, and see her clear blue eyes smiling up at him. He itched to convince her to stay.