From the obvious look of pleasure upon his face, he was glad she’d summoned him. He found excuses to be near her, now that she was widowed. And he was the one man whom she could trust to help her.
‘Is the man alive?’ he called.
‘Barely. I’ll need your help bringing him back to the sick hut.’ She supported Connor’s body, raising him into a seated position. Throughout the awkward motions he did not stir.
When Riordan saw Connor’s face, his sympathy transformed into anger and jealousy. ‘Connor MacEgan.’ Bitterness lined his tone. ‘You should leave him where he lies, the bastard.’
‘I am a healer,’ Aileen argued. ‘If the Devil himself needed my care, I would give it.’
Connor might as well be the Devil, she thought. With him, she could not detach herself into the calm world where nothing else existed, save her healing. His very presence unnerved her.
Riordan grumbled, but helped her lift Connor on to the horse. His body hung motionless against the horse’s mane. As they guided the horse back towards her land, she found herself wanting to move faster.
‘What has brought him back here?’ Riordan asked. ‘I thought he’d returned to his kinsmen.’
‘If he lives, you may ask him that yourself.’
A dark look eclipsed his face. ‘I am helping him only for you, Aileen. I’ve no wish to speak to him at all.’
She hid her exasperation even as she urged the horse onward. ‘We must make haste. He has to live.’
‘Why? Because you’ve feelings for him?’
‘Because if he dies, it only proves that I am cursed. I cannot lose another person. If he lives, Seamus might let me heal again.’
‘No one knows you found him,’ Riordan pointed out.
‘Lorcan found him first. Everyone will know of it by nightfall.’ She had no doubt of that. ‘Did you send him home again?’
‘I did, yes.’
‘Good.’ Fear sank deep within, freezing her with worry that Connor would not wake. He had not moved once during the journey back to her land.
‘I still do not like it. We should bring him to Seamus instead.’
Aileen was not about to surrender this chance, not from one man’s jealousy. She laid her hand upon his shoulder. ‘Let your mind be at peace, Riordan. After he heals, he’ll be gone.’ Her touch sparked a flash of interest in his eyes, and she suddenly wished she had not made the impulsive gesture.
He gave her hand a squeeze, and yearning spread across his face once more. Aileen reminded herself that a steady, good husband such as Riordan was a sensible choice. She had long ago abandoned dreams of handsome warriors. Men like Connor MacEgan simply didn’t notice her.
Within moments, they reached the small plot of land she called her own. As she passed the rows of plantings, Aileen considered iris root or marigold flowers, should Connor’s wounds worsen. Silently, she said a prayer to both the Christian God and the gods of her ancestors for healing.
‘Bring him inside the sick hut,’ she ordered. The stone dwelling, erected a few paces from her own hut, was designed for treating the wounded and ill members of their tribe.
In the past two moons, not a single person had trusted her enough to make use of it. She had kept it meticulously clean, hoping that one day the villagers might call upon her. Inwardly she feared her chieftain would force her to go elsewhere when another healer took her place. Seamus had not forgiven her.
Bitterness welled up inside of her. Men had died because they were too proud, too superstitious to seek her help.
She opened the hide door and ducked beneath the bundle of dyed wool hanging to ward off evil spirits. Inside, the temperature was cool and it smelled of damp earth. Riordan set Connor’s limp body upon one of the pallets filled with soft straw. Though his unresponsive state suggested worse injuries, she held fast to her hopes.
‘Do you need a fire?’ Riordan offered.
Aileen hesitated. Though she knew he wanted to help, she preferred to work alone. ‘I will build one.’
‘It is no trouble.’
He started to gather peat to bring inside the hut, but Aileen blocked his path. She didn’t want the cloying scent of smoke to interfere with her healing. ‘Thank you, Riordan. I will be all right on my own now.’
‘I don’t want you alone with him. He is not to be trusted.’
