Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
"Show me the well."
Magnus's voice cut through the evening air as Ada finished washing her hands in a bucket of clean water. She'd spent the last hour helping Torvald set up the healing station in the village elder's cottage, organizing supplies, boiling water, preparing poultices.
Her back ached. Her feet hurt. But there was still work to be done.
"Now?" Ada asked, straightening. "It's getting’ dark."
"Aye, now. If we're right about the water being poisoned, I need to see it fer meself before we close it off completely." Magnus was already moving toward the southern edge of the village. "Are ye comin' or nae?"
Ada hurried after him, Torvald falling into step beside her. The well sat near a cluster of gorse bushes, maybe fifty paces from the nearest cottage. It was old, stone worn smooth by generations of hands drawing water from its depths.
Magnus reached it first, peering down into the darkness. "I ken we said it’s the water but this looks normal enough. How will we ken if it’s poisoned."
"The poison wouldnae be visible," Ada said, coming to stand beside him. "If it's there at all. I'll need to smell the water, maybe taste it if—"
"Ye'll nae be tastin' anything until we ken it's safe." Magnus's tone left no room for argument. "Torvald, help me draw up a bucket."
They worked the crank, the rope creaking as it descended into darkness.
Ada moved closer to the well's edge, trying to get a better view. The ground here was uneven, covered in scrub grass and those cursed gorse bushes that seemed to grow everywhere on Barra.
The bucket surfaced with a wet slosh. Magnus lifted it onto the stone rim, and Ada leaned in to examine it.
The water looked clear. No obvious discoloration, no floating debris. But when she breathed in…
"There," she said. "Dae ye smell that?"
Magnus moved closer, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. He bent his head over the bucket, breathing in deeply. "Smells like water tae me."
"Nay, there's somethin' else. Somethin' bitter. Almost like—" Ada leaned in further, trying to place the scent. It was faint, barely detectable beneath the smell of wet stone and earth. "Like metal, but nae quite. More like—"
Her foot slipped.
One moment she was standing on solid ground, the next her boot had caught on something—a root, a rock, she didn't know—and she was pitching forward toward the well's opening.
She saw the dark water below. Felt her heart leap into her throat. Reached out desperately for anything to stop her fall.
Strong hands caught her around the waist, yanking her backward so hard she gasped. She stumbled, her legs tangling in her skirts, and would have fallen anyway if Magnus hadn't had such a firm grip on her.
"Careful!" His voice was sharp with something that might have been fear or anger, she couldn't tell which.
Ada's heart hammered against her ribs. She'd been inches from falling headfirst into that well. If Magnus hadn't caught her…
"Are ye hurt?"
"Nay, I'm—" Ada tried to step back, but her skirts were caught on something. She tugged once, twice. Heard fabric tear. "Oh nay."
She looked down. Her skirt had snagged on one of the gorse bushes, and in her struggle to free herself, the fabric had ripped clean up the side. A long tear that exposed her leg from ankle to mid-thigh.
Heat flooded her face. "Oh God."
Magnus still had one hand on her waist, steadying her. His other hand moved as though to help with the torn fabric, then stopped abruptly when he saw how much skin was exposed.
Torvald, who'd been standing near the cottage, started forward. "Is the lady all right? Daes she need help?"
Magnus's head snapped up. The sound that came from his throat was low and dangerous, almost a growl.
"Leave," he said.
Torvald stopped mid-step. "What?"
"I said leave. Go back tae the village. Tell them we'll close the well taenight and post guards." Magnus's voice was tight, controlled, but something burned beneath it. "Lady Ada and I will return tae the keep. Alone."
Torvald's eyebrows rose. He looked between Magnus and Ada, seemed to understand something Ada didn't, and nodded once. "Aye. As ye say." He turned and walked back toward the cottages without another word.
Ada stared at Magnus. "Ye didnae have tae send him away. I'm fine."
"Ye're nae fine. Ye nearly fell into that well." Magnus's hand was still on her waist, his grip firm. "And now ye're standin’ here with yer leg exposed where anyone could see."
"It's just me leg."
"It's nae just anything." His gaze dropped to the torn fabric, then away quickly, as though looking hurt him. "Ye're tae be me wife. I'll nae have other men seein' ye like this."
Ada's breath caught. The possessiveness in his voice, raw and unexpected, sent heat spiraling through her chest. She should have been offended. Should have told him he had no right to speak to her like that, to order Torvald away like she was property to be guarded.
But instead, all she felt was a strange, fluttering warmth.
She swallowed hard. "I didnae mean tae cause trouble."
"Ye're nae trouble." Magnus released her waist slowly, as though reluctant. "But we need tae get ye back tae the keep before anyone else sees ye like this."
"What about the well?"
"I'll send guards tae close it taenight." He moved toward where his horse waited, still saddled from their earlier ride. Magnus swung up into the saddle, then extended his hand down to her. "Come on."
Ada took his hand, let him pull her up. That time she didn't try to maintain distance. She settled against his chest immediately, acutely aware of the torn fabric and exposed skin beneath.
Magnus wrapped his cloak around her, covering the tear. The gesture was practical, protective, but Ada felt it like a caress.
"Better?" he asked, his voice close to her ear.
"Aye," she managed. "Thank ye."
He nudged the horse forward. They moved slowly at first, picking their way through the darkening landscape. The torn skirt made sitting difficult, with Ada having to adjust constantly to keep the fabric from tangling in the stirrups or exposing more than it already did.
"Hold still," Magnus said after the third time she shifted. "Ye're goin' tae fall off."
"I'm tryin', but the tear..."
"I ken." His arm tightened around her waist. "Just... lean back and let me handle it."
Ada obeyed. She let her weight settle fully against him, felt his chest rise and fall with each breath. The cloak cocooned them both, holding in warmth and giving off the faint scent of leather and salt.
They rode in silence for a while. The path back to Dun Barra was longer than Ada remembered, winding through rocky terrain that grew treacherous in the fading light. Magnus guided the horse with practiced ease, never faltering even when the path narrowed to barely more than a goat track.
Ada had spent most of her life avoiding men, fearing them, keeping herself small and quiet to escape their notice. But riding through the gathering darkness with Magnus's solid warmth at her back, his arm steady around her waist didn't feel dangerous.
It felt almost safe.
The realization unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
"Ye did well today," Magnus said suddenly, his voice low near her ear. "With the villagers. They trusted ye."
Ada's breath caught at the unexpected praise. "They were desperate. They would've trusted anyone who offered help."
"Nay. They trusted ye because ye earned it." He paused. "That's nae the same thing."
Ada turned her head slightly, trying to see his face in the dimness. "And ye?"
Magnus was quiet for a long moment. The only sounds were the horse's steady footfalls and the distant crash of waves against stone.
"Aye," he said finally. "I did."
"Why?"
Another pause.
"Because ye had nay reason tae lie. Nay reason tae care about people ye'd just met, in a village that's nae yer home." His arm tightened fractionally around her waist. "Ye could've stayed at the keep, safe and warm. But ye didnae. That tells me somethin' about who ye are."
Ada's throat felt tight. No one had ever spoken to her like that—like her choices mattered, like her actions revealed character rather than defiance. Her father would have called her foolish and would have locked her away for daring to leave without permission.
"I think someone put somethin' in the water deliberately," Ada stated quietly, changing the train of her thoughts.
Magnus went still behind her. "What makes ye say that?"
"Because natural poisons dinnae spread that fast or that evenly. And the smell—whatever it is, it's nae somethin' that would occur naturally in a well." She paused. "I cannae prove it. But I think someone wanted those people sick."
"Why?"
"I dinnae ken. Maybe someone with a grudge against the village?" She stopped, uncertain whether to voice her next thought.
"Ye're right tae think it." Magnus's voice was tight. "There are plenty who'd like tae see me fail.”
They rode in silence after that. The path grew smoother as they approached the keep, the terrain less treacherous. The sky had darkened to a deep purple, stars beginning to appear overhead.
Ada felt her eyelids growing heavy. The exhaustion from the day was catching up with her—the early morning, the ride, the hours spent tending the sick. Her body ached in places she'd forgotten could ache.
She tried to fight it. Tried to stay upright and alert. But Magnus's chest was warm behind her, his arm steady around her waist, and the rocking motion of the horse was strangely soothing.
Her eyes drifted closed.
Just for a moment, she told herself. Just to rest them.
Ada woke to the sensation of falling.
She jerked upright with a startled gasp, her hands flailing for purchase, and realized too late that she'd been leaning heavily against Magnus's chest.
The sudden movement threw her off balance. She tipped sideways, sliding toward the edge of the saddle—
Magnus caught her with both arms, hauling her back against him. "Easy! What’s going on?"
"I'm sorry!" Ada's heart hammered. "I fell asleep, I didnae mean tae startle ye."
"Ye almost fell off the horse!" Magnus's voice was somewhere between anger and disbelief. "What were ye thinkin'?"
"I wasnae thinkin', I was sleepin'!" Ada clutched at his arms, her face burning with embarrassment.
"Are ye hurt?"
"Nay, I'm—" Ada looked around and realized they were already in the keep's courtyard. Torches burned along the walls, casting flickering light over the stones. Several guards were staring at them. "Oh nay."
Magnus dismounted smoothly, then reached up to lift her down. Ada stumbled when her feet hit the ground, her legs still half-asleep and uncooperative.
"Careful." Magnus steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. "Can ye walk?"
"Aye, I’m just tired. " Ada took a step and nearly fell. Her legs were cramping from sitting so long in the saddle, and the torn skirt wasn't helping. "Maybe if I just folded the skirts."
Magnus muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse. Then, before Ada could protest, he bent and scooped her into his arms.
"What are ye daeing?"
"Ye can barely stand. I'm nae lettin' ye walk up three flights of stairs like this." Magnus carried her toward the keep's entrance, his expression daring anyone to comment.
The guards wisely said nothing.
Ada should have protested. Should have insisted she was fine, that she could walk on her own. But her legs really were shaking, Magnus's arms were solid and warm, and she was too tired to fight anymore.
She let her head rest against his shoulder and tried not to think about how right it felt.
Magnus carried her through the corridors without speaking, taking the stairs to the east tower two at a time. When they reached her chamber, he kicked the door open and set her down carefully on the edge of the bed.
"Thank ye," Ada said quietly.
"Ye did good work today." Magnus stepped back, putting distance between them. "Me people will remember what ye did fer them."
"I just did what any healer would dae."
"Nay. Ye did more than that." He moved toward the door, paused with his hand on the latch. "Why did ye want tae come? Really?"
Ada looked down at her torn skirt, at her dirty hands and travel-stained gown. "I told ye. Because they're me people now. Or they will be."
"That's nae the whole truth."
She was quiet for a moment. Then, "Because bein' a healer is the only thing I've ever wanted.
The only thing that's ever been mine, nae somethin' me faither chose fer me or forced on me.
And if I have tae marry ye, if I have tae be lady of this keep, then I need tae ken ye will still dae let me dae that.
Help people. Be useful in a way that matters. "
Magnus studied her face. "Ye think I'd stop ye?"
"I dinnae ken what ye'd dae. Most men wouldnae want their wives workin' as healers. It's nae proper. Nae ladylike."
"I'm nae most men." Magnus's voice was quiet but firm. "If ye want tae heal, then heal. I willnae stop ye. Me people need a good healer more than they need a proper lady who daes nothin' but embroider and plan feasts."
Ada's breath caught. "Ye... ye truly mean that?"
"Aye."
For the second time that day, Ada found herself seeing Magnus Haraldson as something other than the cold, ruthless jarl everyone claimed he was.
He was still guarded, still distant in many ways. But beneath that icy exterior was a man who cared deeply about his people. A man who valued skill and competence over propriety and tradition.
A man she might actually be able to respect. Maybe even trust.
"Thank ye," she said softly.
Magnus nodded once. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we'll send word tae the other villages tae check their wells."
Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.
Ada sat on the edge of the bed, her torn skirt pooled around her, her body aching with exhaustion. But for the first time since she'd arrived on Barra, she felt something that might have been relief.
Maybe this marriage wouldn't be a prison after all.