“A lowly profession?” Owen snorted. “He wasnae sayin’ that when he had his men ambush me, and I doubt he’d dare to say that to any healer who tends to him when he’s in need of one.”
Heather nodded eagerly. “That is precisely my argument, whenever he makes such remarks about healing. Now, I have met someone who is both a Laird of high stationanda healer, so it is surely proven that healing is not lowly in any respect.” A smile curved up the corners of her ripe, bitten-red lips. “Perhaps, if you are not averse to the notion, you could… instruct me?”
“How would ye have me do that?” he replied, noticing her gaze drop to the bare skin of his chest. He had lost most of the buttons in battle and saw no reason to ask for replacements, if his life was to end in this place.
She hesitated, hooking her finger over her lower lip as she contemplated the question. Never in his life had he envied a finger more, though he longed to press his lips to that spot.
“If I return here every night, maybe you could tell me of some of the healing you have done?” she said, eventually. “I could write it down and study each process, to gain a better understanding. It is not quite practicing the art, but it is closer than reading the same books again and again. Truly, I have exhausted my brother’s library.”
Owen wanted to say, “And when yer faither has killed me, ye can study me dead body, too.” However, seeing the eager light in her eyes and the excited bounce of her leg, he could notbring himself to strike her enthusiasm down with stark reality. Besides, he had no heirs or lovers or a wife to whom he could impart his knowledge and skill, so why not this exquisite angel?
“Aye, we can do that,” he agreed, though his reasons were not entirely for the purpose of education.
She clapped her hands together. “Do you truly mean it?”
“I wouldn’ae toy with ye, Lass.”
Tipping further forward, she put her hands through the bars in a gesture of trust. “Thank you kindly, Laird—I mean, Owen. You do not know what this means to me.”
“Aye, I think I’ve an inklin’,” he replied, taking hold of her hands. Slowly, he lifted them to his lips, daring to graze a kiss upon her buttery soft skin. “If ye can learn how to heal, ye can learn how to save, and if ye can learn how to save, then maybe ye will nae have to lose another person that ye love.”
Her eyes widened, but she did not withdraw her hands. “Yes, I do believe you stole the very words from my lips.”
Och, Lass, that’s nae all I’d steal from them, if ye’d let me.But that was almost as impossible as the prospect of getting out of this castle alive.
7
“Brandon!” Heather hissed from the shadowed corner of the stables, where she would not be seen. The sweet, grassy scent of straw mingled with the earthier aroma of beasts, prompting her nose to itch and trickle. Having hidden there for several hours, she had had to smother a sneeze on far too many occasions, and she feared her legs would never cease aching after being crouched down for so long.
Brandon blinked in alarm: his head twisting this way and that to try and locate the voice.
“Over here!” Heather urged, poking half of her body out of her hiding place.
His eyebrow arched in bemusement. “What in heaven’s name are you doing down there?”
“Waiting for you, obviously.” She beckoned for him to come closer. “I have been here since just after breakfast. Fortunately, no one has noticed my absence yet.”
As it turned out, Jemima was an exceptionally good source of information. Or, rather, the gossip of the household was. A guard had told a maid who had told an ostler who had told a footman who had told a stable hand who had told Jemima, that Brandon was returning today. The only part they had not been able to say, however, was when. Heather was just grateful he had come back earlier, rather than later.
Brandon frowned. “Why are you waiting for me? Is something the matter? Has something happened? I have only been gone for four days. Surely, nothing bad has befallen… uh… anyone.”
“With your assistance, I pray it will not,” Heather urged, peering over Brandon’s shoulder to make sure there was no one observing the peculiar scene. “I have spoken with Owen, and I have come to the conclusion that he is not the wretched killer that my father believes him to be.”
Brandon gasped in astonishment. “Pardon?”
“Do not look at me that way, Brandon. It is entirely your fault that I went to see him a second time, for I had intended to go and speak with you, but you were nowhere to be found,” she scolded lightly. “So, I went to the dungeons, and I allowed him to tell me his side of the tale. I believe him, Brandon, and I think you do, too. At least, that is what he has told me.”
Heather had spent the past four nights in the dungeons with Owen, discussing everything from anatomy, poetry, healing, music, military tactics, to their favorite walks and landscapes and peaceful moments. Indeed, they had discussed everything in between, too, discovering an entire world of mutual interests and shared sensibilities.
Although, her favorite part of the night was when she had to say farewell, and he would take her hands in his and press them to his lips. It had stunned her, at first, to feel his bare mouth upon her equally bare skin, but that shock had swiftly given way to a wondrous thrill that continued to linger within her veins. A thrill that left her wanting more of his tender, warm kiss upon her skin.
“Am I mistaken?” She swallowed uncomfortably, trying to read Brandon’s blank expression.
Have I allowed Owen to cloud my judgment? Did he lie about his unexpected meeting with Brandon?
“No, dear girl, you are not mistaken,” he said, at last, “but you must not repeat anything you have heard to anyone within the castle. I would like to say that your life would not be in danger, but I cannot.”
Heather nodded. “Owen said you would say that. He has also urged me into silence, though I do not see why I cannot use my influence to persuade Father of Owen’s innocence.” She furrowed her brow. “I understand the effects of grief upon aperson, for I feel them within myself, but that does not grant anyone the right to punish a blameless soul.”
