Chapter 6 #2
“Wheesht.” She waved an open hand between them. “Ye men are all alike. ’Tis why I swore long ago never to marry. Likely after a month or two of being told what to do, I’d want to stab a husband in his sleep.”
For some reason, her vow not to marry felt like a punch to his gut, a punch he couldn’t resist returning. “Why do anything so brazen? Poison can be as fast… or as slow, as ye wish.” He softened the rebuke with a grin.
And why should he care what she did or didn’t do? Her life was here. His was at the Aerie.
“Ach, ye mean to drive me mad, do ye? Go on, leave me.” She waved both hands at him, palms down. “Wait outside if ye must.”
Jamie grinned again, willing to cede this round to her. In any case, what he had to say to Rory would best not be overheard by anyone else. He’d await the man just outside his door.
Aftyn knelt again, picked up Mhairi’s hand and stroked it, hoping to rouse her. Her breathing deepened, probably in response to Aftyn’s gentle touch, but she remained asleep. Likely she got little of gentleness in her life. Gentleness from a man like Rory came seldom, if at all.
Even Jamie had nothing to offer her save food and rest. Then again, she was sure he waited outside for Rory, despite what she’d said about taking care of herself and her village, so perhaps there was something he could do to help her.
Aftyn would be pleased, whether he used persuasion or threats, so long as it worked and Rory treated Mhairi better.
While she waited, she glanced around the cottage.
The main room’s fire had burned down to a glow.
Should she add some peat or leave it be?
What would Rory expect when he got home?
That Mhairi had worked in the cold, not wasting fuel he claimed for his own, or would he be angry that she had not warmed the house before he arrived, making ready for him?
Which would enrage Rory and cause Mhairi more trouble?
She decided it didn’t matter what Rory wanted.
Mhairi lay on a cold floor, and Aftyn had started to feel chilled as well.
She stood and stirred the embers, then added more fuel.
In moments, cheery flames leapt to life, and the room seemed warmer, even though she knew the fire had not had time to make much of a difference.
While she was up, she climbed a few rungs of the ladder leaning against the far wall and peered into the loft.
It was clean, bedding ordered, and blankets folded and piled nearby.
Mhairi kept a clean and neat home. As she climbed back down, Aftyn shuddered to think what the consequences might be if she did not.
The main level was as neat as the loft, table scrubbed, pots neatly stacked, clothes not in evidence, so likely they were folded into the chest she’d spied in the loft.
Another stood next to the hearth. For the lad?
Or spare linens? The cot in the main room must be for the lad.
His blanket cushioned his mother’s head, no doubt put there by Jamie.
It seemed like something he would do. They’d started badly, but she’d come to see there was more to him than his dismay over Niall’s condition and his reaction to it.
If he’d been warned—and if he knew about her beforehand—he’d have greeted her very differently.
Mhairi groaned and stirred. Aftyn returned to her and took her hand again. “Mhairi, wake up, lass. I’m here. ’Tis Aftyn. We are alone.”
“My lad…”
“He’s fine. He fetched us.”
Mhairi’s eyes blinked open. “Us? Rory?”
“Nay. The village now has two healers, at least for a few more days. Ye are too weak, Mhairi. Ye fainted. Ye must eat more.”
“I canna,” she said as she pushed herself to sitting, then lifted a hand to her face. “Dizzy.”
“No doubt. Why can ye no’ eat more?”
“The lad is growing. He needs food. And Rory works so hard…”
“He hits ye. Does he knock bread out of yer hand?”
Mhairi didn’t answer, but her shoulders slumped.
“Ye should leave him.”
“Ye ken I canna. Where would I go? I’d starve for sure. And the lad.”
“Why does he no’ have a name, Mhairi?”
“He did, once.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Alastair.” Then she looked up, her voice still weak, but stronger. “But Rory took it away.”
“Rory took it… he cannae do that.”
“Aye, well, he can and did. He beats me if he hears it. He beat Alas… the lad… near to death once for insisting it was his name. Now the lad stays out of Rory’s way.
” She dropped her head into her hands. “Mostly he hides. I’m surprised he kenned I needed help and fetched ye.
Rory would be pleased if he disappeared forever.
” She lifted her head. Tears glistened in her eyes.
“Ach, Mhairi, this isna right. Ye should no’ have to live this way.”
“I didna ken what he would be like when I married him,” she choked out on a sob.
“We lasses never do, do we?” Aftyn rubbed her back, trying to calm her.
In a few moments, the tears subsided. Maybe she should have let Jamie talk to Rory.
He sounded ready to pound some sense in to the man.
Rory was big, and well-muscled from working the fields, but Jamie was bigger, and something about his shape and the way he held himself, the confident way he moved, told Aftyn he would win any fight that came his way. Or any lass.
Jamie lounged against the sun-warmed cottage wall, arms crossed over his chest, dirk strapped to his thigh and a sgian dubh in his boot.
His longsword was stashed with his other belongings in the chamber the Lathans used in the keep.
He wouldn’t need it. And walking around the village with it slung on his back did not say “healer.” It said “warrior,” a message he did not want to send unless absolutely necessary.
Even without the claymore, if Mhairi’s husband refused to see reason, Jamie had other ways to drive a lesson home.
He uncrossed his arms and dropped his fists to his sides, wondering how long he’d have to wait.
The sun was melting into the western horizon.
Men should be returning from the fields very soon.
His thoughts went back to Aftyn and what she might be doing for Mhairi in the cottage. It was constructed well enough that he could not hear any conversation or movement inside, but he could picture Aftyn’s worried frown as she cared for the lass.
If the MacKyrie Seer had not told him he was bound for a life of service to those he loved at Lathan, he could find himself tempted by the village healer.
Yet how could he even think about taking a wife?
He was trained to fight and to heal. His skills would always be needed and would often take him far from home, even if he refused to use his talent.
He hadn’t been very successful in keeping his vow since he arrived here.
To be wed to a lass with a healer’s knowledge of herbs and potions and all their uses, he would have to guard his talent even more closely than he already did.
She would soon realize he relied on more than potions to care for the ill and injured.
He didn’t want to think about the consequences of having his talent exposed.
His elder brother was the heir. It would fall to him to marry and provide for the future of the Lathan clan at the Aerie.
His younger brother, one of the twins, served as the spare.
Jamie was free to make the best use of his abilities, no matter where he roamed or what battles he fought.
One day, he expected to become the Lathan arms master.
His youngest sister would become his mother’s replacement.
And though the Seer hadn’t said any more, he was certain she meant he’d use his prowess in battle, not his mother’s talent, for honorable service to his clan.
Yet he could not get Aftyn out of his mind.
Her beauty had captured his attention at first, but she was so much more.
Aye, not yet the best healer a clan could hope to have, but she led with her heart and did her best with what she knew.
Any man would be lucky to have a lass like that to care for him. To love him.
He shifted his stance as two men appeared on the track into the village, then one more.
They passed by with a nod, which Jamie returned and settled back to continue waiting, letting his thoughts wander to Aftyn in his arms. Aftyn in his bed, her hair unbound and spread on the pillow, her body bare for him to see and enjoy.
Another handful of men approached. Jamie reined in his fantastical imaginings and nodded as they passed by. In moments, one lone man coming up the track spotted him and increased his pace.
That must be Rory. He was shorter than Jamie expected, yet significantly bigger than his slip of a wife. Still, size did not make the bully, actions did. His glare as he approached didn’t invite explanations. Jamie let him get close, then to be certain, asked, “Ye are Rory, Mhairi’s husband?”
“What’s it to ye?” The man stood with fists on hips. “Get away from my door and go on yer way.”
“Or?”
“What have ye been doing with my wife?” He pulled the door open and took a step forward. “Mhairi, where are ye?”
Jamie grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it shut in his face. “Ye’ll no’ go in there until I have a word with ye.”
“I won’t, eh?” He reached for the door again.
Jamie could see until he established who was in charge, conversation was out of the question.
“Nay.” He grasped Rory’s shoulder and spun him around his body until he slammed against the wall Jamie had leaned on, his face to the side.
Jamie held him there for a beat to let the man’s predicament sink in.
Then Jamie bent in close to his ear and spoke softly.
“Ye have starved yer wife and mistreated her son. Ye have dishonored yerself and yer clan, if ye have one. Where I come from, ye would no’ be considered a man, no matter yer age or yer size. ”
Rory started to struggle then, but Jamie’s forearm across his back held him in place.